when they dig them up again and use the fibres to make mats with,
and for various other purposes. As this process has been going
on for generations, the condition of the shore can be better
imagined than described. I have smelt many evil odours in the
course of my life, but the concentrated essence of stench which
arose from that beach at Lamu as we sat in the moonlit night
- not under, but _on_ our friend the Consul's hospitable roof
- and sniffed it, makes the remembrance of them very poor and
faint. No wonder people get fever at Lamu. And yet the place
was not without a certain quaintness and charm of its own, though
possibly - indeed probably - it was one which would quickly
pall.

'Well, where are you gentlemen steering for?' asked our friend
the hospitable Consul, as we smoked our pipes after dinner.

'We propose to go to Mt Kenia and then on to Mt Lekakisera,'
answered Sir Henry. 'Quatermain has got hold of some yarn about
there being a white race up in the unknown territories beyond.'

The Consul looked interested, and answered that he had heard
something of that, too.

'What have you heard?' I asked.

'Oh, not much. All I know about it is that a year or so ago
I got a letter from Mackenzie, the Scotch missionary, whose station,
"The Highlands", is placed at the highest navigable point of
the Tana River, in which he said something about it.'

'Have you the letter?' I asked.

'No, I destroyed it; but I remember that he said that a man had
arrived at his station who declared that two months' journey
beyond Mt Lekakisera, which no white man has yet visited - at
least, so far as I know - he found a lake called Laga, and that
then he went off to the north-east, a month's journey, over desert
and thorn veldt and great mountains, till he came to a country
where the people are white and live in stone houses. Here he
was hospitably entertained for a while, till at last the priests
of the country set it about that he was a devil, and the people
drove him away, and he journeyed for eight months and reached
Mackenzie's place, as I heard, dying. That's all I know; and
if you ask me, I believe that it is a lie; but if you want to
find out more about it, you had better go up the Tana to Mackenzie's
place and ask him for information.'

Sir Henry and I looked at each other. Here was something tangible.

'I think that we will go to Mr Mackenzie's,' I said.

'Well,' answered the Consul, 'that is your best way, but I warn
you that you are likely to have a rough journey, for I hear that
the Masai are about, and, as you know, they are not pleasant
customers. Your best plan will be to choose a few picked men
for personal servants and hunters, and to hire bearers from village
to village. It will give you an infinity of trouble, but perhaps
on the whole it will prove a cheaper and more advantageous course
than engaging a caravan, and you will be less liable to desertion.'

Fortunately there were at Lamu at this time a party of Wakwafi
Askari (soldiers). The Wakwafi, who are a cross between the
Masai and the Wataveta, are a fine manly race, possessing many
of the good qualities of the Zulu, and a great capacity for civilization.
They are also great hunters. As it happened, these particular
men had recently been on a long trip with an Englishman named
Jutson, who had started from Mombasa, a port about 150 miles
below Lamu, and journeyed right round Kilimanjaro, one of the
highest known mountains in Africa. Poor fellow, he had died
of fever when on his return journey, and within a day's march
of Mombasa. It does seem hard that he should have gone off thus
when within a few hours of safety, and after having survived
so many perils, but so it was. His hunters buried him, and then
came on to Lamu in a dhow. Our friend the Consul suggested to
us that we had better try and hire these men, and accordingly
on the following morning we started to interview the party,
accompanied by an interpreter.

In due course we found them in a mud hut on the outskirts of
the town. Three of the men were sitting outside the hut, and
fine frank-looking fellows they were, having a more or less civilized
appearance. To them we cautiously opened the object of our visit,
at first with very scant success. They declared that they could
not entertain any such idea, that they were worn and weary with
long travelling, and that their hearts were sore at the loss
of their master. They meant to go back to their homes and rest
awhile. This did not sound very promising, so by way of effecting
a diversion I asked where the remainder of them were. I was
told there were six, and I saw but three. One of the men said
they slept in the hut, and were yet resting after their labours
- 'sleep weighed down their eyelids, and sorrow made their hearts
as lead: it was best to sleep, for with sleep came forgetfulness.
But the men should be awakened.'

Presently they came out of the hut, yawning - the first two
men being evidently of the same race and style as those already
before us; but the appearance of the third and last nearly made
me jump out of my skin. He was a very tall, broad man, quite
six foot three, I should say, but gaunt, with lean, wiry-looking
limbs. My first glance at him told me that he was no Wakwafi:
he was a pure bred Zulu. He came out with his thin aristocratic-looking
hand placed before his face to hide a yawn, so I could only see
that he was a 'Keshla' or ringed man {Endnote 1}, and that he
had a great three-cornered hole in his forehead. In another
second he removed his hand, revealing a powerful-looking Zulu
face, with a humorous mouth, a short woolly beard, tinged with
grey, and a pair of brown eyes keen as a hawk's. I knew my man
at once, although I had not seen him for twelve years. 'How
do you do, Umslopogaas?' I said quietly in Zulu.

The tall man (who among his own people was commonly known as
the 'Woodpecker', and also as the 'Slaughterer') started, and
almost let the long-handled battleaxe he held in his hand fall
in his astonishment. Next second he had recognized me, and was
saluting me in an outburst of sonorous language which made his
companions the Wakwafi stare.

'Koos' (chief), he began, 'Koos-y-Pagete! Koos-y-umcool! (Chief
from of old - mighty chief) Koos! Baba! (father) Macumazahn,
old hunter, slayer of elephants, eater up of lions, clever one!
watchful one! brave one! quick one! whose shot never misses,
who strikes straight home, who grasps a hand and holds it to
the death (i.e. is a true friend) Koos! Baba! Wise is the voice
of our people that says, "Mountain never meets with mountain,
but at daybreak or at even man shall meet again with man." Behold!
a messenger came up from Natal, "Macumazahn is dead!" cried he.
"The land knows Macumazahn no more." That is years ago. And
now, behold, now in this strange place of stinks I find Macumazahn,
my friend. There is no room for doubt. The brush of the old
jackal has gone a little grey; but is not his eye as keen, and
are not his teeth as sharp? Ha! ha! Macumazahn, mindest thou
how thou didst plant the ball in the eye of the charging buffalo
- mindest thou - '

I had let him run on thus because I saw that his enthusiasm was
producing a marked effect upon the minds of the five Wakwafi,
who appeared to understand something of his talk; but now I thought
it time to put a stop to it, for there is nothing that I hate
so much as this Zulu system of extravagant praising - 'bongering'
as they call it. 'Silence!' I said. 'Has all thy noisy talk
been stopped up since last I saw thee that it breaks out thus,
and sweeps us away? What doest thou here with these men - thou
whom I left a chief in Zululand? How is it that thou art far
from thine own place, and gathered together with strangers?'

Umslopogaas leant himself upon the head of his long battleaxe
(which was nothing else but a pole-axe, with a beautiful handle
of rhinoceros horn), and his grim face grew sad.

'My Father,' he answered, 'I have a word to tell thee, but I
cannot speak it before these low people (umfagozana),' and he
glanced at the Wakwafi Askari; 'it is for thine own ear. My
Father, this will I say,' and here his face grew stern again,
'a woman betrayed me to the death, and covered my name with shame
- ay, my own wife, a round-faced girl, betrayed me; but I escaped
from death; ay, I broke from the very hands of those who came
to slay me. I struck but three blows with this mine axe Inkosikaas
- surely my Father will remember it - one to the right, one
to the left, and one in front, and yet I left three men dead.
And then I fled, and, as my Father knows, even now that I am
old my feet are as the feet of the Sassaby {Endnote 2}, and there
breathes not the man who, by running, can touch me again when
once I have bounded from his side. On I sped, and after me came
the messengers of death, and their voice was as the voice of
dogs that hunt. From my own kraal I flew, and, as I passed,
she who had betrayed me was drawing water from the spring. I
fleeted by her like the shadow of Death, and as I went I smote
with mine axe, and lo! her head fell: it fell into the water
pan. Then I fled north. Day after day I journeyed on; for three
moons I journeyed, resting not, stopping not, but running on
towards forgetfulness, till I met the party of the white hunter
who is now dead, and am come hither with his servants. And nought
have I brought with me. I who was high-born, ay, of the blood
of Chaka, the great king - a chief, and a captain of the regiment
of the Nkomabakosi - am a wanderer in strange places, a man
without a kraal. Nought have I brought save this mine axe; of
all my belongings this remains alone. They have divided my cattle;
they have taken my wives; and my children know my face no more.
Yet with this axe' - and he swung the formidable weapon round
his head, making the air hiss as he clove it - 'will I cut another
path to fortune. I have spoken.'

I shook my head at him. 'Umslopogaas,' I said, 'I know thee
from of old. Ever ambitious, ever plotting to be great, I fear
me that thou hast overreached thyself at last. Years ago, when
thou wouldst have plotted against Cetywayo, son of Panda, I warned
thee, and thou didst listen. But now, when I was not by thee
to stay thy hand, thou hast dug a pit for thine own feet to fall
in. Is it not so? But what is done is done. Who can make the
dead tree green, or gaze again upon last year's light? Who can
recall the spoken word, or bring back the spirit of the fallen?
That which Time swallows comes not up again. Let it be forgotten!

'And now, behold, Umslopogaas, I know thee for a great warrior
and a brave man, faithful to the death. Even in Zululand, where
all the men are brave, they called thee the "Slaughterer", and
at night told stories round the fire of thy strength and deeds.
Hear me now. Thou seest this great man, my friend' - and I
pointed to Sir Henry; 'he also is a warrior as great as thou,
and, strong as thou art, he could throw thee over his shoulder.
Incubu is his name. And thou seest this one also; him with
the round stomach, the shining eye, and the pleasant face. Bougwan
(glass eye) is his name, and a good man is he and a true, being
of a curious tribe who pass their life upon the water, and live
in floating kraals.

'Now, we three whom thou seest would travel inland, past Dongo
Egere, the great white mountain (Mt Kenia), and far into the
unknown beyond. We know not what we shall find there; we go
to hunt and seek adventures, and new places, being tired of sitting
still, with the same old things around us. Wilt thou come with
us? To thee shall be given command of all our servants; but
what shall befall thee, that I know not. Once before we three
journeyed thus, in search of adventure, and we took with us a
man such as thou - one Umbopa; and, behold, we left him the
king of a great country, with twenty Impis (regiments), each
of 3,000 plumed warriors, waiting on his word. How it shall
go with thee, I know not; mayhap death awaits thee and us.
Wilt thou throw thyself to Fortune and come, or fearest thou,
Umslopogaas?'

The great man smiled. 'Thou art not altogether right, Macumazahn,'
he said; 'I have plotted in my time, but it was not ambition
that led me to my fall; but, shame on me that I should have to
say it, a fair woman's face. Let it pass. So we are going to
see something like the old times again, Macumazahn, when we fought
and hunted in Zululand? Ay, I will come. Come life, come death,
what care I, so that the blows fall fast and the blood runs red?
I grow old, I grow old, and I have not fought enough! And yet
am I a warrior among warriors; see my scars' - and he pointed
to countless cicatrices, stabs and cuts, that marked the skin
of his chest and legs and arms. 'See the hole in my head; the
brains gushed out therefrom, yet did I slay him who smote, and
live. Knowest thou how many men I have slain, in fair hand-to-hand
combat, Macumazahn? See, here is the tale of them' - and he
pointed to long rows of notches cut in the rhinoceros-horn handle
of his axe. 'Number them, Macumazahn - one hundred and three
- and I have never counted but those whom I have ripped open
{Endnote 3}, nor have I reckoned those whom another man had struck.'

'Be silent,' I said, for I saw that he was getting the blood-fever
on him; 'be silent; well art thou called the "Slaughterer".
We would not hear of thy deeds of blood. Remember, if thou comest
with us, we fight not save in self-defence. Listen, we need
servants. These men,' and I pointed to the Wakwafi, who had
retired a little way during our 'indaba' (talk), 'say they will not come.'

'Will not come!' shouted Umslopogaas; 'where is the dog who says
he will not come when my Father orders? Here, thou' - and with
a single bound he sprang upon the Wakwafi with whom I had first
spoken, and, seizing him by the arm, dragged him towards us.
'Thou dog!' he said, giving the terrified man a shake, 'didst
thou say that thou wouldst not go with my Father? Say it once
more and I will choke thee' - and his long fingers closed round
his throat as he said it - 'thee, and those with thee. Hast
thou forgotten how I served thy brother?'

'Nay, we will come with the white man,' gasped the man.

'White man!' went on Umslopogaas, in simulated fury, which a
very little provocation would have made real enough; 'of whom
speakest thou, insolent dog?'

'Nay, we will go with the great chief.'

'So!' said Umslopogaas, in a quiet voice, as he suddenly released
his hold, so that the man fell backward. 'I thought you would.'

'That man Umslopogaas seems to have a curious moral ascendency
over his companions,' Good afterwards remarked thoughtfully.


CHAPTER II
THE BLACK HAND


In due course we left Lamu, and ten days afterwards we found
ourselves at a spot called Charra, on the Tana River, having
gone through many adventures which need not be recorded here.
Amongst other things we visited a ruined city, of which there
are many on this coast, and which must once, to judge from their
extent and the numerous remains of mosques and stone houses,
have been very populous places. These ruined cities are immeasurably
ancient, having, I believe, been places of wealth and importance
as far back as the Old Testament times, when they were centres
of trade with India and elsewhere. But their glory has departed
now - the slave trade has finished them - and where wealthy
merchants from all parts of the then civilized world stood and
bargained in the crowded market-places, the lion holds his court
at night, and instead of the chattering of slaves and the eager
voices of the bidders, his awful note goes echoing down the ruined
corridors. At this particular place we discovered on a mound,
covered up with rank growth and rubbish, two of the most beautiful
stone doorways that it is possible to conceive. The carving
on them was simply exquisite, and I only regret that we had no
means of getting them away. No doubt they had once been the
entrances to a palace, of which, however, no traces were now
to be seen, though probably its ruins lay under the rising mound.

Gone! quite gone! the way that everything must go. Like the
nobles and the ladies who lived within their gates, these cities
have had their day, and now they are as Babylon and Nineveh,
and as London and Paris will one day be. Nothing may endure.
That is the inexorable law. Men and women, empires and cities,
thrones, principalities, and powers, mountains, rivers, and unfathomed
seas, worlds, spaces, and universes, all have their day, and
all must go. In this ruined and forgotten place the moralist
may behold a symbol of the universal destiny. For this system
of ours allows no room for standing still - nothing can loiter
on the road and check the progress of things upwards towards
Life, or the rush of things downwards towards Death. The stern
policeman Fate moves us and them on, on, uphill and downhill
and across the level; there is no resting-place for the weary
feet, till at last the abyss swallows us, and from the shores
of the Transitory we are hurled into the sea of the Eternal.

At Charra we had a violent quarrel with the headman of the bearers
we had hired to go as far as this, and who now wished to extort
large extra payment from us. In the result he threatened to
set the Masai - about whom more anon - on to us. That night
he, with all our hired bearers, ran away, stealing most of the
goods which had been entrusted to them to carry. Luckily, however,
they had not happened to steal our rifles, ammunition, and personal
effects; not because of any delicacy of feeling on their part,
but owing to the fact that they chanced to be in the charge of
the five Wakwafis. After that, it was clear to us that we had
had enough of caravans and of bearers. Indeed, we had not much
left for a caravan to carry. And yet, how were we to get on?

It was Good who solved the question. 'Here is water,' he said,
pointing to the Tana River; 'and yesterday I saw a party of natives
hunting hippopotami in canoes. I understand that Mr Mackenzie's
mission station is on the Tana River. Why not get into canoes
and paddle up to it?'

This brilliant suggestion was, needless to say, received with
acclamation; and I instantly set to work to buy suitable canoes
from the surrounding natives. I succeeded after a delay of three
days in obtaining two large ones, each hollowed out of a single
log of some light wood, and capable of holding six people and
baggage. For these two canoes we had to pay nearly all our
remaining cloth, and also many other articles.

On the day following our purchase of the two canoes we effected
a start. In the first canoe were Good, Sir Henry, and three
of our Wakwafi followers; in the second myself, Umslopogaas,
and the other two Wakwafis. As our course lay upstream, we had
to keep four paddles at work in each canoe, which meant that
the whole lot of us, except Good, had to row away like galley-slaves;
and very exhausting work it was. I say, except Good, for, of
course, the moment that Good got into a boat his foot was on
his native heath, and he took command of the party. And certainly
he worked us. On shore Good is a gentle, mild-mannered man,
and given to jocosity; but, as we found to our cost, Good in
a boat was a perfect demon. To begin with, he knew all about
it, and we didn't. On all nautical subjects, from the torpedo
fittings of a man-of-war down to the best way of handling the
paddle of an African canoe, he was a perfect mine of information,
which, to say the least of it, we were not. Also his ideas of
discipline were of the sternest, and, in short, he came the royal
naval officer over us pretty considerably, and paid us out amply
for all the chaff we were wont to treat him to on land; but,
on the other hand, I am bound to say that he managed the boats admirably.

After the first day Good succeeded, with the help of some cloth
and a couple of poles, in rigging up a sail in each canoe, which
lightened our labours not a little. But the current ran very
strong against us, and at the best we were not able to make more
than twenty miles a day. Our plan was to start at dawn, and
paddle along till about half-past ten, by which time the sun
got too hot to allow of further exertion. Then we moored our
canoes to the bank, and ate our frugal meal; after which we ate
or otherwise amused ourselves till about three o'clock, when
we again started, and rowed till within an hour of sundown, when
we called a halt for the night. On landing in the evening, Good
would at once set to work, with the help of the Askari, to build
a little 'scherm', or small enclosure, fenced with thorn bushes,
and to light a fire. I, with Sir Henry and Umslopogaas, would
go out to shoot something for the pot. Generally this was an
easy task, for all sorts of game abounded on the banks of the
Tana. One night Sir Henry shot a young cow-giraffe, of which
the marrow-bones were excellent; on another I got a couple of
waterbuck right and left; and once, to his own intense satisfaction,
Umslopogaas (who, like most Zulus, was a vile shot with a rifle)
managed to kill a fine fat eland with a Martini I had lent him.
Sometimes we varied our food by shooting some guinea-fowl, or
bush-bustard (paau) - both of which were numerous - with a
shot-gun, or by catching a supply of beautiful yellow fish, with
which the waters of the Tana swarmed, and which form, I believe,
one of the chief food-supplies of the crocodiles.

Three days after our start an ominous incident occurred. We
were just drawing in to the bank to make our camp as usual for
the night, when we caught sight of a figure standing on a little
knoll not forty yards away, and intensely watching our approach.
One glance was sufficient - although I was personally unacquainted
with the tribe - to tell me that he was a Masai Elmoran, or
young warrior. Indeed, had I had any doubts, they would have
quickly been dispelled by the terrified ejaculation of '_Masai_!'
that burst simultaneously from the lips of our Wakwafi followers,
who are, as I think I have said, themselves bastard Masai.

And what a figure he presented as he stood there in his savage
war-gear! Accustomed as I have been to savages all my life,
I do not think that I have ever before seen anything quite so
ferocious or awe-inspiring. To begin with, the man was enormously
tall, quite as tall as Umslopogaas, I should say, and beautifully,
though somewhat slightly, shaped; but with the face of a devil.
In his right hand he held a spear about five and a half feet
long, the blade being two and a half feet in length, by nearly
three inches in width, and having an iron spike at the end of
the handle that measured more than a foot. On his left arm was
a large and well-made elliptical shield of buffalo hide, on which
were painted strange heraldic-looking devices. On his shoulders
was a huge cape of hawk's feathers, and round his neck was a
'naibere', or strip of cotton, about seventeen feet long, by
one and a half broad, with a stripe of colour running down the
middle of it. The tanned goatskin robe, which formed his ordinary
attire in times of peace, was tied lightly round his waist, so
as to serve the purposes of a belt, and through it were stuck,
on the right and left sides respectively, his short pear-shaped
sime, or sword, which is made of a single piece of steel, and
carried in a wooden sheath, and an enormous knobkerrie. But
perhaps the most remarkable feature of his attire consisted of
a headdress of ostrich-feathers, which was fixed on the chin,
and passed in front of the ears to the forehead, and, being shaped
like an ellipse, completely framed the face, so that the diabolical
countenance appeared to project from a sort of feather fire-screen.
Round the ankles he wore black fringes of hair, and, projecting
from the upper portion of the calves, to which they were attached,
were long spurs like spikes, from which flowed down tufts of
the beautiful black and waving hair of the Colobus monkey. Such
was the elaborate array of the Masai Elmoran who stood watching
the approach of our two canoes, but it is one which, to be appreciated,
must be seen; only those who see it do not often live to describe
it. Of course I could not make out all these details of his
full dress on the occasion of this my first introduction, being,
indeed, amply taken up with the consideration of the general
effect, but I had plenty of subsequent opportunities of becoming