While engaged in the busy work of the Station, we learned that a shipment of supplies and other necessities, which had been ordered from London, was lying at the Coast; but that adequate caravan men could not be gathered. So it was necessary for my husband to take a company of men down country and bring up the loads himself.
Many would have shrunk from such an adventure after the sad experiences of the former expedition, when he lost five of his men and was on the very verge of forfeiting his own life. The necessities of the situation, however, led him to encounter willingly the risks of the dangerous project once again. Although suffering occasionally from attacks of fever, yet without much loss of time he got the caravan together; and, leaving with me for the work of the Station a number of natives of mixed tribal descent, including Kikuyu and Masai, he departed.
It was not without considerable worries that I saw my husband leave the Station, as the long, dry season of five months' duration was drawing to its close, and I knew that water would be difficult to obtain on the way.
One bright ray illumined the dark view ahead of him, and that was the fact that the Uganda railway had already thrown its dual line of metal rails across the terrible desert of Taru, and had stretched forth its arm over the dry, arid and treacherous country through which the Voi and Tsavo flowed; and therefore the mileage of wilderness to be covered by the slow marching of human feet had been greatly reduced. I had considerable doubts and apprehensions regarding the men now on the station. Most of them were new to me. The Kikuyu and Masai had begun to come to us freely, and my husband encouraged these natives, as he was anxious they should hear the message of salvation and carry the news back to their own country. He gave them work, and rewarded them with the barter goods which were wanted within their borders. They were inexperienced and difficult to deal with. Some of the Kikuyu had never seen a European before. The idea of having to obey a woman, even though she had a pale face, tickled them immensely.
In the house was a huge spear which had been obtained from a Masai warrior, and it had somehow got circulated in their camp that if they misbehaved themselves in any way I would use this big weapon upon them. In one sense I was glad that they feared me, but I did not like the idea of them thinking that I would use such a long, sharp blade on any human being. Nevertheless, they called me "Kitumo," which signifies "The Great Spear."
It was quite a privilege to me to have the opportunity of delivering to them the simple message of the love of God in Christ Jesus. Soon they got tired of working, and, having received their wages in barter goods, they started off to their own country. It is useless to expect children of the wilds, whose lives are spent in continual roaming and wandering, to remain in one place any length of time. A good deal of work had to be done in my husband's absence, and it was necessary to get materials to build another hut. Trees had to be cut from the forest and grass pulled for thatching, and the fencing of the garden repaired, as wild animals were destroying the contents. Firewood, too, had to be cut and stored up for the long, rainy season.
Another batch of Kikuyu natives came across the plain who were anxious to live with us for a month, and I accepted these men for work, although the difficulty of dealing with them seemed a greater trial than I was able to bear. In the homeland one seems to think that murderers are beyond all hope of reclamation, and few would care to travel with them even for half an hour in a railway carriage, or walk the street with one on a dark night. Yet every one of these men had taken human life. In fact, when we arrived in the country among these tribes, it would have been difficult to find a full-grown man who had not shed the blood of a brother native. The warriors of the Akamba, Kikuyu and Masai were then wholly busy in violent and murdering exploits.
Few can realize what a strain it is upon the nerves to dwell for the greater part of one's life with the wild tribes among an often barbaric way of life. To spend one's time with them as my husband has done, to reduce their language to writing, to enter into their joys and sorrows, their hopes and fears, to lie out with them in the bush night after night, to be aware of their inexpressibly low and corrupt life, and, amidst it all, to bring up a family of young children, is a duty from which most people might well turn away. However, apart from the joy which obedience to the Savior's command brings to every faithful heart, there has been the great compensation of the conscious presence of the Lord Jesus Christ, who said, "Lo! I am with you always"—with us even when our house is in the very presence of Satan's throne. One must also remember that in ancient Europe and elsewhere in the world the same barbarism was and is still exhibited. The heart of man apart from Christ is the same in the jungle as it is in the city. The children and I rejoiced when we received a letter from my husband written at the Kibwezi Mission. He had then reached within ten miles of railhead, the point to which the rails had already been laid. He had suffered a good deal from malarial fever and lack of water. The letter brought to us the following news: -
My dear Rachel,
I hope this letter will find you and my dear little children in good health and everything going on all right around the station. I am fairly well just now, although the malarial fever held me in its grip nearly all the way down.
I must first give you a word or two about our journey. You remember I was feeling a little feverish the day I left you. We camped that evening in the dip beyond Manyani, and I had quite severe fever that night. Before midnight my pajamas were drenched with feverish perspiration.
In the morning I had the usual worn-out feeling which follows A night of fever, but started on my journey as dawn was breaking, with the fever still in my body. On that day we reached Mukungani, getting there about four o'clock in the afternoon.
The following morning we were off before daylight, ere the leopards had returned to their lairs, and went on right through Kilungu, camping at the far end of the river through which you and I waded when on our way up country. The river is now dried up, and we suffered from intense thirst: we had to dig a deep hole in the sandy bed before we could get enough dirty liquid with which to cook our food. The sun was scorching and the wind from the dry, parched bush seemed as if coming from an oven, and was very trying both to the men and myself. Fever still in my body, and no appetite for anything. I took fifteen grains of quinine every day, but all to no purpose. I am losing my faith in quinine absolutely.
The next day we passed the beautiful valley of the N'dange river. You remember the terrific flow of water which swept over its rocky bed when we first encamped on its banks. You could not conceive the appearance of that bed now—only a few holes here and there, in which there is a little muddy water all full of and covered with green vegetable matter.
At N'gurungani camp, in the wilderness beyond N'dange where we slept, the water was actually thick, of a pale yellow color like pea soup, and full of grubs. We had to put it through a piece of calico before boiling it. There I had another severe attack of fever but got over it all right and started on the march the next morning. We came on past Kiboko and Mekindu, covering about thirty-five miles in one day, and getting in here very tired, between eight and nine o'clock.
Mr. Watson was very kind to me. We had some supper together, and I got to rest in my tent at about eleven. No fever last night, for which I praise God. Mr. Watson gave me very sad news concerning those who were helping him in the work. He came down hurriedly from Kikuyu, where they are making a new station, having heard that Dr. Wilson was dead and that Lundy was dying. Poor Wilson had gone down from Kibwezi to Mtoto-wa-N'dee to bring up some loads, and while there he was stricken with hematuric fever, and was dead in thirty-six hours. After Wilson's death, Lundy proceeded to bring up the loads for which Wilson had set out, and he too was also smitten with the same fever, and was sent down to the railway hospital-camp at Voi. He got a little better, and was then sent on by rail to the Coast, and put on board a boat for home.
Recently there have been a good many deaths down here among the Europeans who have been sent out to superintend the building of the railway, and they have had great trouble with lions. They do not yet know much about the power of these beasts, nor how to guard against their nightly incursions. Neither Lundy nor Watson saw Wilson after he left to bring up the loads. He had died and was buried by the railway people, before either of them knew anything of what had happened. It was a very sudden call for dear Wilson.
Do not send any letters down country. Watson was in a great state because he could not get his letters here. The collector would not give them to him because the bag was addressed to Kikuyu. His letters therefore were sent on to Kikuyu and then had to be returned to Kibwezi. The poor fellow was terribly anxious to see his news from home.
They are getting on with the railway very quickly, but the Indian coolies who have been imported for the work are said to be dying in large numbers, and the railway bank is flanked with graves. Hoping that you are well, and praying God's gracious blessing upon you and our dear little children, I say good-bye for the present.
With much love, Stuart.
It was sad to hear of the tragedy which had befallen the Mission of the Church of Scotland at Kibwezi. The first superintendent, Dr. Charters, with his friend Mr. Colquhoun, had lost their lives under dreadful circumstances. The doctor and his companion had gone out with a native following to shoot some meat, and having dropped an antelope, they left their men to cut up the carcass and carry it to camp. The hunters were also to proceed there by an indirect path, on which they might have the opportunity of getting another shot.
The porters completed their task and waited all the evening but no Bwana came. They searched the district, but could not find any trace of the Europeans. Then returning to the Mission station at Kibwezi, they told their story. Mr. Patterson, who was on the station, went out with a band of men and for many days made a diligent search, ranging the whole district and exploring every retreat and nook of the surrounding forest; but not the slightest clue was discovered, nor was the mystery of their death ever solved.
In all probability the two Europeans were met by a prowling band of Masai, who felled them to earth, and thrust their bodies into some of the large, animal burrows frequently met with in the forest, and then hid every mark and evidence of their vile deed.
My husband and his men were able to board a construction train near to a place named Masongoleni and, reaching the Coast and securing the loads, they came back by another heavily-laden trail of cars, and arrived at the same advanced point at railhead in a period of four days.
The sun was low in the heavens when the panting engine was brought to a standstill at the end of the rails in the jungle. The loads were taken out and regulated, and a short march into the wilds was begun, in order to stretch the limbs of the porters and prepare them for the journey up country, as they were quite stiff and cramped after the long period of confinement in the wilderness train, which sometimes attained the speed of eight to ten miles per hour.
The natives were in no way amazed at their progression through the country on wheels, headed by a puffing fire monster engine. It takes a great deal to startle the acute, cool and calculating Bantu tribes of the East Equatorial Regions. If today an airplane dropped down from the air into the wilds, where these natives flit among the bushes with poisoned arrow or glittering spear, they would greet its arrival with sheer disinterest, so self-possessed are these naked sons of the forest.
An hour's march from the end of the two bright lines of rail which were piercing the jungle, the porters camped for the night. My husband was anxious to go forward that evening some distance further inland, to the Kibwezi Mission, to have an hour's Christian companionship with Mr. Watson, but the porters were unable to march any further with their heavy loads, as darkness was already fast approaching. He himself, however, could not resist the temptation to proceed to the Mission Station, and, leaving the porters under the charge of his headman and asking them to follow him early in the morning, he started alone on his night tramp to Kibwezi with a walking-stick in his hand. He left his only rifle with the chief of the caravan, to enable him to guard the camp against the invasion of wild beasts.
Before setting out on the usual winding caravan track through the thick bush, he had heard that the railway bank was already made for the greater part of the way to Kibwezi, and almost ready to receive the sleepers. Thinking that the broad, straight path of the new railway might be more easily followed than the narrow, winding track through the jungle, my husband chose the former, and during the first few miles made considerable progress, though the night was dark as can be.
Sometimes the bank seemed only about two feet higher than the surface of the surrounding forest, and again, in passing over depressions, it rose to a considerable altitude. Hyenas were prowling about in great numbers, making the forest ring with their monotonous growl. They begin in a low, sustained, humming tone with their lips tight together, and then, with an explosive sound from a suddenly expanded mouth, they end abruptly on a high key.
Panthers were much in evidence, and sometimes their short, choppy grunt was heard in alarming nearness to my husband's footsteps; and then for the first time he felt keenly his dangerous position, and wished he had kept his rifle.
While he was tripping along in the dense darkness at a quick rate, he felt all at once as if he were stepping into air, and immediately found himself rolling down a steep mound of soft earth, which was probably fifty feet deep. Only when he reached the bottom and got to his feet again did he realize how matters stood and the cause of his fall. The railway embankment ran near to the center of a deep gully in the forest, and there abruptly terminated at the deepest part, where a bridge was to be built to cross the waterway.
Scrambling through the thick bushes which fringed the gorge, he sought on hands and feet to climb the steep side of the ground on the other side. The sandy side of the embankment had not become stable or compact, and the footsteps sank twelve inches or more in the loose, open earth. He at last reached the top in a breathless condition, and the roar of a lion in the jungle below was not very reassuring.
When this reverberating bellow sounded out in the solitude of the night in that lonely forest its thrilling effect was indescribable. Three times it was repeated with ever-increasing volume, making the gully echo, and then the serenade ended with a few low, penetrating grunts.
Continuing along the bank, my husband was careful to use his stick, lest he might drop once again into space and turn a few more somersaults in the darkness. He had not traveled far when he came to another and yet another ravine yet to be bridged, and had to climb down and then up repeatedly. Deeply he regretted that he had not taken the ordinary, winding, caravan track through the jungle; but in the blackness of the night there was no other course to take than to go along the way in which the detached earth banks led where the railway was being built.
After about three hours' plodding march, the ridge of the newly-made line ran across an elevated plateau, where two great circles of blazing lights could be seen in the forest, on either side of the railway bank, but each of them removed from it by about the space of half a mile. My husband knew that these flaring flames rose from the camp fires of the Indians, who were engaged in raising the earthworks of the railway, and he was glad to be within a mile at least of the resting place of human beings and see the lonely jungle glowing with their blazing fires.
The dazzling light, however, which leaped high from their camp logs only made the dense blackness of night seem even darker on the railway bank, and made it necessary to feel for every step of the way. My husband had picked up a dry sapling of seven or eight feet in length, and, with the aid of this small pole and his walking-stick, he managed to determine if he was too near the side of the bank, or if there was any object or dip immediately in front of him.
Thus proceeding on his unsafe way, he was startled to find an animal plunging across the line a few yards behind him. As there was neither growl nor grunt nor roar, he had no means of knowing what danger lurked by his side. Stopping for a moment to listen with intent, so that he might discern the species of animal which came with such a headlong rush into such close quarters, he could hear one low grunt which betrayed the presence of a sly leopard. No more wily beast could hunt for human prey, for they often rush on ahead, as if they were seeking to flee, and then turning back on their tracks, they lie in wait to spring suddenly upon the unsuspecting traveler.
Still forward into the darkness my husband went, along the gloomy, solitary path, feeling his way with the two sticks he held in either hand. Often he had wished that one of them were a rifle, so that he might be prepared to defend himself against the night-time, bloodthirsty beasts of prey which surrounded his path.
The guiding providence of God was soon manifested, even in the matter of not being armed against lions and panthers and pachyderms. As he proceeded along the dismal, dark embankment, when everything immediately around was invisible but the blackness of night, and had reached a position in line with the camp fires, which glowed in the distant forest on right and left, he heard before him what seemed to be the faint footsteps of a lion approaching cautiously towards him. Plainly could he hear the delicate footfall of his four huge, cushioned paws as he advanced, and then the sound suddenly ceased, when not more than about ten or twelve paces away. The darkness was so dense that no outline of the lurking enemy could be discerned.
Thinking that the animal was probably preparing to spring, my husband also came to a halt, and while considering in his own mind the best course to pursue in his defenseless position, there burst forth, from the object in front, a double-barreled scream, which seemed to rend the very firmament with its piercing notes of shrieking agony.
My husband then challenged the foe in the Kiswahili language, "Nani huyu?" (Who's there?), when two human figures rushed forward and knelt at his feet, kissing them and crying alternately, "Sahib! Sahib! Bwana wangu! Bwana wangu! " (Sir! Sir! My Master! My Master!).
The two men, Indian coolies, who were frantic with fear, had been visiting friends in the camp on the one side of the line, and were returning to their own quarters on the other side. The silent footfalls of their two pairs of bare feet on the soft, sandy earth of the embankment closely resembled the stealthy approach of one of the great felines; while to them the thud of my husband's forward advance in heavy jungle boots, as he beat his way in the darkness with a stick in either hand, indicated to them the oncoming tread of a rhinoceros, and, believing that their doom was sealed, they were simultaneously constrained to give forth that great piercing yell which at once solved the difficulty of the situation.
After a word of encouragement to the two sons of Islam, and with their loud salaams ringing in his ears, my husband pressed forward into the inky blackness of the wilderness, and soon came to the end of the raised railway earthworks. He had then to force a passage through thick bush without any pathway, towards the faint light of the Kibwezi camp, which was reached two hours before midnight. He was there able to eat with his brother Missionary and compare notes before retiring to rest.
The following day his faithful men came in good time and all proceeded on their way up country, and eventually reached the Mission Station without any troublesome circumstances, except for the fact that on the second day's march from the railway line, while the caravan was passing through thick, bush country, it was found that one porter and his load were missing from the ranks.
Immediately a halt was called, and it was then discovered that when crossing a certain deep ravine, only about eight hundred yards in the rear, the porter was seen dropping behind the caravan, and shortly afterward vanished from sight. Two reasons only could be given for his disappearance. Either a lion had sprung upon him and carried him away, or else he thought the load he bore might be very valuable to him some day, and had made off with it under the cover of the thick jungle. My husband believed that the latter was likely to be the case. Anyhow, several men were sent back at a trot to see if there were any signs of the missing porter or package, while others were dispatched to search different sections of the deep ravine we had crossed, and seek to discover the runaway or his booty.
The first party sent out soon returned with news that there was no appearance of any load about the track and no marks of any struggle. In a short time afterward the other band of men returned with the missing case, which had been broken into by angular pieces of rock. The native had evidently been interrupted while opening the box and, finding his pursuers upon him, had made his escape through the dense bush that bordered the gully in which he had been hidden.
In the course of an hour, every man who had been sent to hunt up the missing load and its carrier had returned, except one of the most faithful men of the caravan. It was thought that he might have come across the delinquent native in the forest and had got into difficulties with him. A number of men were then sent out to search for him, in that part of the deep, bush-covered gorge to which he had been sent.
In a short time they returned with Muthama, the missing warrior, who looked as if he had passed through some terrible experience. His eyes were almost starting from their sockets, and his sleek, black skin all streaked with light marks as if his body had been pulled through a bramble brake.
Having been asked for his news, he told of his wonderful escape. While making his search for the missing porter, he got into a section of the low ravine, where it was difficult for him to make his way due to the interlacing growth which blocked his progress. Knowing that the runaway was likely to select some impenetrable place in which to hide his stolen goods, the searcher continued his course through the network of intertwining jungle, until he emerged into a more open part of the gully, where grass and boulders covered the spaces between the trees.
Passing along the base of the gorge, his alert eye caught the movement of a few stems of long grass some distance above him, on one side of the declivity which ended at his feet. Thinking he had caught the fugitive, the stalwart native cautiously approached the spot, when, to his dire amazement, he caught sight of a lion preparing to spring upon him.
Turning his back to the lion he made a desperate attempt to flee, but the ferocious beast had already made his terrific spring, while the man, losing his footing on a boulder, fell to earth at the base of a tree. As he did so, he was conscious of the swish of the animal through the air, as it passed over his face down body.
Jumping to his feet, the agile native climbed up the tree like a cat, and never stopped until he put about sixteen to eighteen feet between him and the ground: then peering down, he saw the enraged lion looking up at him and showing his gleaming teeth.
There the lion remained, giving forth at times a low, angry growl, as he glanced upwards at the prey which had escaped with such skill. The native called for help, but the deep, bush-covered ravine smothered the sound of his voice. Eventually the lion impatiently moved away, and, when out of sight, the man warily came to earth, and rushed through the bushes in a direction opposite to that in which the lion disappeared, and, on coming forth from the thick jungle, he met the men who had been sent out in search of him.