In the afternoon we reach Bolobo, the head quarters of the Baptist Mission, which is presided over by Mr. Grenfell, a missionary who has resided for over twenty years in the Congo. He has taught the natives to make bricks and build houses and has erected a Mission Hall, a hospital and a printing house. The mission enclosure is well laid out with mango trees and other useful fruits and many fat ducks and fowls pass a contented existence there. Unfortunately Mr. Grenfell was not at home, but we were fortunate in finding Mr. Scrivener, another missionary, who has resided some years in Africa. He stated that the natives were emigrating from the District of Lake Leopold, which lies behind Bolobo and is Domain Land, because they were forced to collect rubber and were flogged if they refused. He had never himself seen a native who had been ill treated, but had been told so by natives. Asked whether the people were ever mutilated, Mr. Scrivener looked very surprised and answered "Oh no, there is nothing of that kind now!"

Bolobo is very populous and many natives flocked down to the beach immediately the steamer arrived and at once held an outdoor market on the beach selling manioc, fish, clothes, pots of various kinds and other articles to the crew and passengers. A Congo flat fish of the perch family is found here, smoke dried and sold for food and is very good eating indeed.

Two of the crew were chicotted. to-day by order of the captain. One had attacked another boy with a knife and wounded him and the other had stolen, and then falsely blamed another. The chicotte is a plain strip of hippo hide and the punishment was administered publicly by the capita on the bridge of the steamer and did not appear to be more painful than an ordinary birching at a public school.

At 10 p.m. we decide to take the big iron boat of the steamer and go hunting. The natives are exceedingly skilful and know all the likely places for hippo. They first paddle hard up stream and having arrived at the hunting ground allow the boat to drift down with the current in perfect silence. It is clear moonlight, but it is necessary to cover the fore sight of the rifle with white paper in order to see it clearly. After a time, up rises a great head with a great pant and there is just time for a shot before it sinks again. Hippos frequent shallow water and are indifferent swimmers. They walk about on the bottom and rise at intervals to breathe. It is thus impossible to know in which direction a beast will next appear or whether he will come up under the boat and capsize it. This night there were great numbers and we had excellent sport. One shot in the head is sufficient to kill a hippo which then sinks and the body does not rise again for some hours. One unfortunate animal was however, shot in the back and rearing straight up on his hind legs rushed for some yards in that attitude until a second shot in the head put him out of his misery.

Next day we reach Lukolela, a Wood Post and telegraph station. The line runs along the bank all the way from Leopoldville to Coquilhatville and was very difficult to erect. A space had to be cleared in the forest nearly two hundred feet wide and the line erected in the centre on iron posts, so that any falling trees would not destroy it. At first, the elephants strongly resented these novel posts and frequently knocked them down as easily as if they had been nine pins, but have since become used to them. At Lukolela there is excellent teak wood which is fashioned into doors and windows and shipped to various places ready for building. The nights are quite cool, although we are near the Equator and the heat in the day time is not nearly as oppressive as it is at Aden or Shanghai in the summer. Cultivation is much more advanced here than in the lower Congo and the physique of the natives is remarkably fine.

The navigation of the river here becomes very difficult, for the water is shallow at this season of the year and there are many sand banks which frequently change their position. Charts are therefore, practically useless and each skipper has to feel his way each voyage. Indeed, the whole time two boys sit on the bows of the vessel with long poles sounding the water and shouting out the depth. It is curious that when the vessel is travelling in shallow water, the engines at once go slow of their own accord. One of the engineers explained that this phenomena was produced by the difficulty the wheels experienced in dragging away, so to speak, the water from under the ship when there was little depth. Still the ships, frequently run on the banks, but as they are flat bottomed, are not usually injured. The method of mooring is very rudimentary although practical. One of the crew jumps overboard with a steel rope, swims ashore and makes it fast to a tree. All of them are expert swimmers and seem to enjoy their frequent dips, and as their clothes consist of a loin cloth only, they do not require to undress.

On August 1st at sunset we reach Irebu, an exceedingly beautiful place. An avenue of palms stretches parallel to the river and about twenty yards from it the bank itself being fenced by white wooden rails. This leads to a large open square around which are the brick houses of the European officers. Beyond, along the river front, are more brick houses, the Mess and the Magazines, and gardens are laid out the whole length of the town. This is one of the large military training centres, where about a dozen officers prepare more than a thousand recruits for the Force Publique.

In the evening the place was illuminated by very simple, but effective, means. Stakes were driven into the ground and on each was placed a tin which presumably had contained condensed milk. These were filled with palm oil and pieces of wood to serve as wicks. The mosquitoes here are very bad indeed and it is necessary to take quinine every day to counteract the effects of their poison.

At daybreak next morning most of the troops were exercising in the square and their precision and manoeuvring were really marvellous. Any European colonel might indeed be proud to hear such a single click as his regiment shouldered arms. The officers state that the natives attend very carefully all the time for the word of command and act very quickly after it is given. The native corporals evidently make good instructors and the raw recruit is soon converted into a smart and responsible soldier. This military education is certainly the best that could be given to a savage; it teaches him punctuality, regularity, obedience and collective responsibility; it shows him how to build houses and keep them clean and it gives him an idea of justice for he knows he will be punished for wrong doing. The soldier therefore soon becomes an altogether different person and realises that he is no longer an animal-man living wild in the forest, but a soldier-man and a friend of the great Bulamatadi. who governs the country. What we may call the caste feeling has indeed contributed greatly to civilising the country. Anyone who is brought into direct contact with the whites as a soldier, a worker in the plantation or on the roads, soon feels that he is superior to the wild bushman and then becomes more attached to his new master than to his own cousins. It is rather amusing to hear the native domestics or boys. who probably rank higher than any other natives on the social ladder, speaking of the indigenes. with great contempt as though they were quite another and an inferior species. Speaking of Bulamatadi, it may be of interest to state the origin and meaning of the term—it means literally in the native tongue one who breaks stones. and was given to Stanley, when he blasted rocks to make roads the term being afterwards buried with him on his coffin. Since then it has been applied to all officials of the State and is used to connote anything and everything connected with the State. Thus the State side of the river is Bulamatadi, a State Post is Bulamatadi, a State steamer is Bulamatadi, anything indeed belonging to the State is Bulamatadi. White men traders and hunters, not State officials, are mundellas, but the native at once has a nick name for everyone which describes his chief characteristic. Lord Mountmorres usually wore long hunting boots and was named big boots. and as I wore eyeglasses, I became double eyes.

We left Irebu on August 2nd and at once disturbed many crocodiles and hippos, which abound in this district. An unfortunate accident happened in the afternoon. One of the crew fell overboard and must have been drawn under the stern wheel and struck by a paddle, for he never re-appeared and no sign of the poor fellow could be found, although diligent search was made for a long time.

Just before sunset a canoe comes alongside and fastens to the ship, although it is travelling at full speed. It is indeed wonderful to see the way the natives manipulate these narrow dug-outs not two feet wide. In this one were three fishermen with some fish which looked like trout for sale. At once a great clamouring takes place among the native passengers and it soon becomes plain that the chief fisherman was a good man of business. Having taken an empty bottle for one fish and a piece of cloth for another, he refused more of those articles and demanded either salt or mitakos for his goods. In a short time however, he had disposed of his cargo and paddled contentedly away.



The natives are very vain and take much trouble over their personal appearance. As their clothes are very simple this is concentrated on their tatooage and on their hair dressing. From a hopeless looking tangle of black tow a very pretty erection is created by the barbers who are of both sexes. Often the hair has five or six separate partings and quills or feathers are inserted into the ridges in between. All the women here wear a simple piece of cloth as they do in the Lower Congo and sometimes a plain leather belt is worn round the waist. The arms and legs are bare and covered with plain bangles made of mitakos. The women wear no hat of any kind, but the men ape the Europeans and appear in old helmets or straw hats. Both sexes are very clean personally, and bathe frequently in the river, but never dry themselves afterwards. The men keep on their loin cloths, but if they wear also shirts or trousers, take these off, while the women bathe in a white linen loin cloth and everyone afterwards pulls on his other clothes without drying. Many natives rub a red powder into the skin made from cam-wood and thus acquire a copper colour, while others paint their faces with various stripes of red, yellow or white. On the Congo however, where the natives are becoming civilised, this custom seems to be dying out.

On August 3rd we cross the Equator marked by a post on one side of the river and the point of an island in the centre. Here used to be a settlement, but most of the people have moved higher up. There is still a Mission near the place and a good road runs along the bank between plantations of bananas and gardens to Coquilhatville which we reach in the afternoon.



CHAPTER IV.

The Equator District.

Coquilhatville, the capital of this important District is the largest town in the Upper Congo. The roads are formed by bamboos laid in rows, upon which sand and mud are placed the whole forming an effective pavement for foot passengers and no other is required for there are no carriages and only a few horses. All the officers don white uniforms with full dress, badges and medals, and together we proceed to make a formal call on Captain Stevens, the Commissaire of the District with whom is staying Mr. Malfeyt, Commissaire du Roi. Some of the officers take their dogs with them, which at once make a furious onslaught on the numerous cats of the Commissaire and have to be suppressed. Mgr. Derikx places a particularly pugnacious fox-terrier under the basket work of his chair the little animal being literally sat upon by the dignitary of the Church.

The Residency is a large brick building situated on a low hill and raised above the ground, the space beneath being enclosed and loop-holed, thus forming a small fort. The gardens are particularly pretty and well kept. Beer is handed round and we sit chatting on the verandah until Mr. Grenfell, the head of the Baptist Mission, arrives. He has travelled up the river in the Mission Steamer from Bolobo and was on his way when we stopped at that place. As he has been in the Congo for more than twenty years, he knows the country well and thus speaks with authority. He thinks the system of Government excellent, but that it is administered better in the Lower than the Upper Congo, because there are not enough officials in the latter. He is convinced the population has greatly decreased on the riverside of the Bangala District, and attributes it chiefly to Sleeping Sickness for he cannot say if emigration to the French Congo has been extensive or not. No case of ill-treatment of natives has come to his notice during the last three years, but he thinks the State does not give them enough work to do. He has seen natives without hands, but does not believe that any atrocities have occurred for many years. Generally speaking, he thinks it would be better if the State acquired all the property of the Companies. Although he does not know of any definite cases of ill-treatment, he has heard reports and thinks there is "no smoke without fire." However, he is quite prepared to agree that a very little fire in the Congo makes a great deal of smoke. Altogether, Mr. Grenfell spoke very calmly, and is evidently not carried away by emotionalism or strong prejudice against the State.

At Coquilhatville, as elsewhere in the State, the prisoners are given useful work to do. Near by a party were digging a hole by the roadway. They were chained together but the chain was so long that it did not hamper their movements. Two policemen were on guard, but the whole gang were evidently taking matters very easily.

In the evening we dine with the Commissaire and a party of sixteen or eighteen, including many of our fellow travellers, Mr. Grenfell and Dr. Button, of the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine, who is here studying the Sleeping Sickness. Everyone we meet who has travelled in other countries and also visited the Congo, is astonished at the wonderful development of the place. It is indeed becoming more and more apparent that the State has gone ahead very fast and that the stress has been great, both for Europeans and natives. Probably, now the machine is fairly set rolling, it will proceed more steadily in the future.

Next day we decide to leave the Flandre and stay for a week or so at Coquilhatville. Commandant Ankstroem, the Adjoint Superieur to the Commissaire, kindly lends us his house and we at once move in, glad to leave the mosquitoes of the river and to sleep in a room once more. Everything in the house and garden is scrupulously clean and tidy, characteristics which I may add were found in nearly every Post and house in the whole country. The sanitary arrangements are the perfection of simplicity. There are no drains, but simple receptables which are emptied and cleaned every morning while carbolic acid is used liberally. This admirable system is carried out in every Post, however large or small, and I never once found it unobserved. The natives themselves are also very cleanly in their habits, so that although the heat is great and decomposition proceeds very rapidly, bad smells are absolutely unknown. Near the residency is a well kept farm and the mutton tasted particularly nice after the diet of goat on the steamer.

The effect of the climate on my digestion is curious. In Europe all forms of starch and sugar give me indigestion and I have therefore to avoid bread, potatoes, jam, sugar and kindred substances. Here however, I have a craving for these things and never have indigestion. I mention this personal trait, because many other travellers in the tropics have often stated that they could march on rice and jam for days without desiring meat of any kind. No doubt the system is working at, so to speak, high pressure, but it is curious that a complete change in one's idiosyncrasies should take place even in the first month.

On August 5th the Flandre proceeds up the river, and we bid farewell to our travelling companions, who seem to have become old friends in the last six weeks. Everyone, is always most kind and courteous, and not only gives every information, but also the benefit of his experience, and thus affords much valuable assistance. The town of Coquilhatville consists of rows of brick houses standing in their own gardens and fronting on avenues. It may seem that one insists unnecessarily on the fact that the houses are brick in all the towns, a fact which the European would accept as a matter of course. The traveller however knows that in most tropical countries, wood is usually employed instead, as being easier to obtain and work. Indeed in the United States, the country seats of even the very wealthy are generally constructed chiefly of that substance. Bricks however, are by no means easily made in the Congo, for in many places the soil is very sandy and it is therefore difficult to make the brick bind. Again, lime is very scarce and all manner of substances are used to make mortar. Among these the ant hills are much in favour, for it has been observed that these structures which are often thirty feet high and in proportion great in diameter, never disintegrate in the heaviest rain. When dug out and mixed with sand their substance makes an excellent mortar. Again, the shells of oysters, which abound in some parts of the river are also used to make mortar with good results. The roofs are thatched with palm leaves wherever obtainable, and if well constructed are quite water tight. Glass windows are not much used, for as much air as possible is desirable and the verandahs are so broad that rain rarely enters. The openings are thus closed only by shutters or by wire gauze to keep out the numerous insects.

Living here is very expensive. The usual money is the mitako, but the native likes salt and will sometimes take cloth if he fancies it. He is however, very independent, and on one occasion a native refused 14/- in cloth for a single duck. Fowls and eggs are about the same price as in the West End of London, but the latter are very scarce. Fruit is however, cheap, as it is abundant. Near the town is a large coffee and cocoa plantation arranged in square fields, separated by avenues of palms, which both form grateful shade and yield much palm oil. On each field is a large board on which is painted the number of bushes. Papye, coeur de boeuf, bananas and pineapples abound.

The system of work in every Post is exactly the same, so that a description of it as witnessed in Coquilhatville would equally do for every place in the Congo. At 5.30 a.m. reveille and at 6 a.m. roll call of all the Europeans and native workers who then, led by a bugler, march off to their respective duties. At 11.15 a.m. bugle call and all the natives march to the river and bathe. At 11.30 a.m. bathing ceases and they march off behind the bugler to dinner and rest. At 2.30 p.m. they assemble again and at 5.30 p.m. finish for the day. The native thus works eight hours and a half and rests in the hottest portion of the day. The workers in the plantations are entirely volunteers and so do not come under the 40 hours' rule, which is only applied to those who live in the villages and are not in the State service. The women do the light work in the plantations and thus fare much better, than when forced to do all the work by their husbands, which happens in all the villages. It is curious to see them brushing the roads with palm leaves. Six or eight women walk abreast and push away the dust and dead leaves which are then collected in baskets and thrown into the river.

As our house looks into the square where the Force Publique drill, we witness the methods employed. At first the recruit is taught which is right and which is left. Droite and up goes the right hand, gauche and the left follows. The native corporal, however, has corrupted these words into hi hoo so that, as is usual in military commands, no mere civilian can possibly understand them. Afterwards when he comes to mount guard and relieve sentries, the order presentez armes! might be anything from the sound.

The band practices also close at hand. First the cornet picks out some air he has heard, note by note, and like a child who is learning the piano, always goes back to the beginning of the piece when he strikes a false note. After many trials the whole air is discovered. Then the trombones and bass instruments put in the accompaniment also by experiment, and in the end the result is really quite good for Africans unlike Asiatics, take kindly to European music.

The method of moving heavy weights is necessarily very primitive, for, with the exception of a few wheel-barrows, there are no vehicles of any kind here. A huge tree trunk was carried into the square one day; pieces of wood had been lashed across it about two feet apart throughout its length. One or two men on each side of each piece then lifted it and the whole eighty or hundred men marched the trunk along with ease at a jog trot. It would indeed be impossible to use heavy trolleys in this part of the Congo, for the roads are sandy and the wheels would at once sink deeply into them.

A walk through the plantation, which extends over some square miles, is very pleasant, as the palms spread their leaves across the avenues until they nearly touch each other thus forming beautiful shady groves. Ferns grow round the stems and the whole is extremely pretty and cool-looking. Beyond the plantation is the cemetery for the whites. Each grave is covered with bricks and has a wooden cross at the head on which is inscribed the name and date of death. The age however, is omitted and this is perhaps as well, for the Congo exacts a heavy toll of young lives and new comers are often depressed already by the accounts of the climate which have reached Europe.

Further on is a forest through which runs a narrow native tract. This demonstrates well the extreme indolence of the native. If a small branch of a tree falls across the path, he steps over it, if a large one, he walks round it. Time is no object, so the length of the road is immaterial. No attempt is made to form bridges, for the streams are not deep and are easily fordable, nor even to break off the branches of trees which obstruct the way. It is easier to stoop and pass beneath. The forest paths have indeed been made simply by the pressure of bare feet on the soil and undergrowth. A few monkeys and parrots chatter overhead and an occasional pigeon coos, but the chief forms of animal life here, are thousands of the most lovely butterflies. These are coloured to suit the surroundings and are therefore usually of subdued tints. Occasionally however, a great insect nearly as large as one's hand, flies by exhibiting the most vivid greens, reds, and blues. Bananas, rubber plants, palms and acacias crowd each other in the forest through which we walk for three or four miles, until we reach a native village consisting of a few square huts in a clearing. A handsome looking fellow comes up to us, salutes and desires to know if we wish to buy anything. Having neither mitakos, salt, nor cloth except the pyjamas we are wearing, we cannot deal and leave the man wondering probably—if the native ever does wonder—why we walked all that distance if we did not require anything.

On August 8th we visit the Botanical Gardens at Eala, which is about three miles from Coquilhatville. Mr. Pinard, the Director of the Gardens, shows us the various plants indigenous and imported which he has collected, and although the place has only been formed for three years, almost everything which could possibly grow has been planted. The soil is sandy, the altitude about 1100 feet above sea level and the temperature is about 90 deg. F. Numerous varieties of rubber plants are arranged here for experimental purposes, and gutta percha also is slowly attaining maturity. Bushes which yield acid, suitable for coagulating the milk of the rubber plant, grow alongside. Cotton does not do well here owing to the scarcity of rain, but coffee and tea flourish. All the palms, many ferns and orchids and nearly every fruit and vegetable, European as well as tropical, grow in great profusion while the melons, vegetable marrows, beans, peas, potatoes, lettuces, cucumbers and tomatoes look healthy. Croton, belladonna and other medicinal herbs are cultivated and there are many beautiful flowers, whose use is chiefly ornamental. The gardens are of great extent, well laid out and beautifully kept, so that it is difficult to believe that four years ago this site was wild forest.

Adjoining the gardens is a large farm in which cattle, resembling those of the Lower Congo, look well. It is however, unfortunate that the cows only give sufficient milk to rear their calves. Horses, asses and pigs live healthily and the native sheep thrive, but are very thin. Although wheat will not grow, maize is easily raised and the grass, if coarse looking, is good for grazing. The farm buildings are kept most scrupulously clean, for the slightest neglect would probably occasion an epidemic of trichinosis among the pigs.

The villages in the neighbourhood of Coquilhatville seem very populous and prosperous. Any morning early whole families can be met—father, mother and children, with bundles of manioc fastened on their backs by broad grass fibres—going to the town. Everywhere the natives seem contented and happy. When not working, they sit in the roads and dye their skins or have their hair dressed, while the children play around with bows and arrows or other pugnacious kind of toys. The wealthy wear heavy brass rings extending from the ankle to the knee and the discomfort must be very great, but as is proved by the tatouage, the natives will bear much pain in order to beautify themselves. Before leaving Coquilhatville, we send for the boy Epondo, who was rendered famous as an example of an atrocity by Mr. Casement, the late British Consul at Boma. Epondo is now employed as a gardener by the Commissaire of the District and is always at hand when visitors desire to see him. Four inches below the elbow joint of the left arm there are two deeps scars, three inches apart, which could certainly have been produced by the bite of an animal of about the size of a wild boar. The stump of the forearm is covered with irregular scars, such as would remain if the hand had become gangrenous and fallen away. It was useless asking him questions, as he had already told two distinct stories which have been related above.

On August 10th, we leave Coquilhatville and steam down the river to Irebu, which we reach after a few hours hot journey. Mr. Jeniaux, the Commandant, has spared no pains to make the camp not only beautiful but attractive in every way and it has well earned its reputation as one of the show places of the Congo. Lord Mountmorres is lodged in a spare house used for guests and Lieutenant Hoyer kindly lends me his during our stay. The Mess is very comfortably arranged, and the dinner based on antelope and wild pig is excellent.

Next day I go hunting with Mr. Hoyer in a canoe propelled by twenty paddlers. These at first keep up a kind of chant to the time of the paddles which is quite musical and pleasant. As we approach the game grounds however, they become quite silent. After travelling up stream for about a mile, we land in a kind of bog which is full of a species of duck, somewhat resembling a wood-cock. A sergeant of the Force Publique acts as guide and hunter, and it soon becomes apparent that the native is in the habit of stalking even birds and shooting them sitting. This is natural enough for formerly they were armed with bows and arrows, and now the army of course use only rifles. Shot guns, therefore, are only known to the boys of the white men, some of whom are very good shots. The hunter seems quite annoyed because I only shoot at birds on the wing, but is delighted when one falls. So far indeed, the only enthusiasm a native has shown, has been while hunting after a successful shot. The paddlers at once re-enact the scene, put imaginary guns to their shoulders give a loud bang and then describe circles with their hands to give a dumb show of the bird falling, laughing and shouting all the time. They are really just like young children and are easily pleased by trifles. After walking some distance the sergeant becomes wildly excited and clutches me violently by the arm but makes no noise. Looking up I see a large monkey but signify that I will not shoot those beasts. He then asks permission to fire his rifle and brings it down with a shot through the head. After this we paddle on to the hippo ground. After the very first shot at a head fifty yards away, the canoe suddenly gives a great lurch and as nearly as possible capsizes. Another great beast had evidently chosen that moment to come up just under it and if we had not been a heavy load, would undoubtedly have thrown it high in the air. As it was, beyond a shaking, no one was damaged and we had excellent sport for a few minutes until the animals made for the bank and hid themselves in the long grass.

Behind Irebu is a plain, where the grass is really green, the green that is only seen in the tropics. Here and there are clumps of palms and patches of forest, the whole giving the appearance of a well kept park. There are antelope and wild pig here but they are very difficult to stalk owing to the open character of the ground. There are also a few red-legged partridges and many pigeons so that one always found something to shoot.

The native camp here consists of a large square shut off by a wooden fence. Inside are large huts in which the soldiers live, and oddly enough, they all prefer to have separate establishments, each woman preparing the food for her husband. These women also work in the plantation when they are not concerned with the business of maternity, which judging by the number of children about, must be very seldom. The native cemetery is a curious-looking place, for on each grave is placed the clothes of the dead one and any other belongings he has. No one knows the origin or object of this custom. They are not for the journey to the happy hunting ground apparently, for missionaries say they have never heard the natives speak of any kind of a future state. It may be that these articles are merely to show the wealth of the departed; they are however, all broken or torn to shreds, so that no robber should be tempted to take them. Many of the tribes are said to eat their dead, except those of high position and those who die of infectious diseases, and others used to throw the corpses in the river. Some tribes however, have a very elaborate funeral with much wailing and lamenting and the departed is interred beneath his own hut, which is never occupied again.

At Irebu, the narrow river from Lake Tumba joins the Congo, and from its small size is known usually as the canal. The current sometimes flows up and sometimes down, according to the height of water in the Congo, but it is obvious that the general direction must be down, as many small streams flow into the Lake, and all their water is certainly not dispersed by evaporation. Many crocodiles pass up and down the canal and it would be easy to shoot them from the windows or verandah of my house, but it seems to be rather a waste of cartridges which, like most other things, must be carried the whole tour, for none can be procured in the Congo. I do not therefore, care to run the risk of running short when the hunting grounds of Uele are reached.

Sunday is usually a very busy day in Irebu. No work is done, but all the Chiefs come in to call on the Commandant, who is evidently regarded as a species of parent. Indeed, the nickname of Commandant Jeniaux is the native word meaning Father. All the sick are brought in and receive treatment; children are vaccinated, and any little native disputes are brought before him to settle. These nearly always relate to women. One man will complain that his wife has not behaved herself properly at home, that she has not prepared his food nicely, or much more rarely, that she has run away with another. Sometimes a Chief complains that another one has stolen some of his women or goats, and then the other side is heard and the judgment pronounced. These are of course, not formal trials, and the judgment is more in the shape of advice. It is however, always acted upon, for the time being at least. Serious cases are left to the Courts, but this institution of friendly palavers is an excellent one and establishes confidence and good will among the natives. It is here indeed, that the personal character of the white man is put to the test. A calm, just, firm rule will win both the love and respect of these over-grown children, but an excitable, harsh, uncertain temper and manner, will only awaken distrust and hatred. The more popular the head of the Station, the easier it is for him to find workers in the villages, which in turn affect the general condition of the country around. Although the system of work is absolutely uniform and every official is tied in a particular groove, yet the whole welfare, work, and indeed, appearance of the country and villages, is good or bad according to the moral character and personality of the chief white man in the neighbourhood. I would therefore, say, with however some reserve, that when the natives are discontented and rebel, it is not because they dislike the system of Government, but are dissatisfied with the man who administers it.



On August 16th, Inspecteur d'Etat Warnant, Commander in-chief of the Force Publique, arrives at Irebu. He is on a tour of inspection, and has every reason to be satisfied with the efficiency of the troops. Perfect discipline and harmony is maintained throughout all ranks and all the officers are agreed that the troops are perfectly steady when fighting and never show the least sign of cowardice. Many are very good shots and their drill certainly leaves nothing to be desired.

On the same day Mr. Joseph Clarke, of the American Baptist Mission at Ikoko, calls at Irebu and kindly invites me to his house for a few days. This is situated on the banks of Lake Tumba, or Mantumba or Lac N'Tomba, whichever you prefer. Lord Mountmorres remains at Irebu, but I leave in Mr. Clarke's boat, propelled by twenty four paddlers, and journey along the canal, which twists and turns in all directions. Towards sunset we land at Boboko where Mr. Clarke buys some ducks and eggs, the price of the latter being a table-spoonful of salt for each. He arranges also to sell some nails to the Chief. We then cross the canal to Itutu, a branch Mission Station conducted by a native who preaches, and is an excellent carpenter. Here we sleep, Mr. Clarke making up a bed in the boat, while I occupy a mud hut which however, is scrupulously clean.

Next morning, after a bathe in the canal, in which the water is like warm, weak coffee, we continue our journey to Ngero, a long straggling village on the north bank of the Lake. The huts here are oblong and strongly constructed of hard cane and mud, the roofs being thatched with dried palm leaves closely interlaced. It is necessary to stoop to enter them, for the doors are not five feet high, but it is possible to stand upright within. There is usually a wood fire burning, but no outlet for the smoke, which slowly finds its way through the roof. The rafters therefore, are covered with a kind of tar which, undoubtedly, acts as an antiseptic, and also keeps away the insects. The mosquitoes indeed, will not face wood smoke, but tobacco smoke is useless as a shield against their attacks. Both sexes here are practically nude. The men are fishermen and the women look after the banana-plantations, crush the palm nuts for oil and do the cooking and housework.

Ngero was the village of the Chief Lokolo Longania, who raised a rebellion against the State some years ago, and after some trouble was captured and hanged. Here we buy some fish and eggs and then go on to Ikoko, the crew singing native songs and Christian hymns as they paddle along. The Mission house is very prettily situated, and is a wooden building, with that very rare luxury in the Congo, glass windows. Here we are met by Mrs. Clarke, who has spent many years with her husband in Africa. The Mission has a good farm and garden, and since the climate is not as bad as in many parts, its inmates enjoy fair health. A large wooden building is used as a chapel and school, and near it is a saw pit and a carpenter's shop where the boys make furniture and boxes for sale at Irebu and other Posts in the neighbourhood, for the furniture of the Ikoko Mission is quite famous. The girls all wear plain, blue frocks which they make themselves, as well as clothes for sale, and many are also quite expert at various kinds of fancy needlework. The business has however, decreased lately owing to the decrease in population. The Mission bell has been ingeniously fixed in a tree, and it calls to school, to work and prayer, as regularly as the bugle in the State Posts.

The village of Ikoko consists of groups of huts separated from each other by the tall grass, which here is eighteen or twenty feet long, but as the ends bend over, not above twelve or fifteen feet high. The people seem idle, contented and happy, the chief industry being fishing and net-making. Mr. Clarke said the population used to be about 2000 in number, but many have died of Sleeping Sickness and some have migrated. This is very evident, for a number of huts are deserted, and the weeds have grown over them, in some cases entirely blocking the entrances. Out of curiosity, we have a rough census taken and find there are 138 men in the village on August 19th. Some no doubt are fishing, and allowing for these and the women and children, there are probably not more than 1000 to 1200 people now living in the village. The work these do for the State, consists of supplying 600 rations of fish per week to the plantation of Bikoro, a ration consisting of a whole, a half, or a quarter of a fish according to its size. For this they are paid 600 mitakos—or about 23/—. They also supply bamboos and baskets, but it is very plain that if the people worked hard, they would certainly not require as long as 40 hours a month to accomplish their tasks. The fish are caught in nets made of thin bamboo lashed together by a tough creeper, which are arranged in the lake. Sometimes it happens that the fishermen are unfortunate and then they buy from their neighbours who take advantage of the scarcity value and charge them more than they will receive from the State. A village might thus be out of pocket by the transaction, but as each one has its turn, probably by the end of the year no one has lost or gained.

In the Mission school men, women, and children are learning to read and write the native language, and some have mastered also the rudiments of arithmetic and French. Some of the classes are held in the school-room and others under trees near at hand. An assistant missionary, Mr. Whitman, helps Mr. Clarke, while Mrs. Whitman teaches in the school.

On August 20th we start for Bikoro under a threatening sky. It is indeed soon apparent that a tornado is crossing the Lake towards us, for great banks of dense clouds advancing rapidly from the south west now obscure the sun. It would be impossible to travel through the storm, so we turn the boat and make for a creek which bounds Ikoko on the east. Only just in time, we reach a native hut, as a terrific storm bursts overhead. The rain descends in sheets accompanied by vivid green lightning and crashes of thunder. Fortunately the roof is water-tight, but the mud floor of the hut has worn down below the level of the ground outside and soon the water pours through the door and is nine or ten inches deep inside. The fire splutters out and the logs float around amid the crowing of fowls and the cackling of ducks who are quite contented and happy. Our hostess with a baby strapped on her back in the usual native fashion, commences to bale out the water with a basket while we sit on logs in the darkness and try to keep dry. After about an hour the storm passes and we go back to the Mission, the Lake now appearing like a small sea.

Mr. Clarke lends me a copy of the Memorial concerning conditions in the Independent State of the Congo which was presented to the American Senate early in 1904. There seem to be a great many curious errors in it. It starts with the astounding statement that the Congo Free State has a sea board of 400 miles along the Atlantic, whereas a glance at the map will show that it is really about a tenth as long. It estimates the Force Publique at 30,000 men, rather more than twice its full strength, and its author is under the impression that the people may not collect the produce of the land or "barter it for merchandise." It is a little difficult to understand what the author means here. As a matter of fact, the people are trading with each other, all day long and with the white travellers whenever they have the opportunity. They sell food, lances, native knives and all kinds of curiosities to those who desire them and are at perfect liberty to barter away all their property if they wish to do so. They may not of course enter the territories of the State or Private Companies and take the ivory or rubber, any more than the people in Europe may walk on to private land and gather the corn or fruit from it for their own use or profit. The native indeed is in the position of a farm labourer who gathers the fruits of the soil for his master and is paid a wage for so doing. On Sunday I attend service in the chapel. A native from Sierra Leone reads a lesson from the Gospel of St. Matthew, which has been translated into Bangala and gives a short address on the subject afterwards. He is evidently much in earnest and talks with that kind of spirit of conviction frequently to be noticed in street preachers. Several hymns are sung and then the people pass out, dropping their mitakos into the plate as they do so. In the afternoon, we walk round the village. Mr. Clarke notices a boy with a malformation of one knee and speaks to him. He then explains to me that this is another atrocity, for the boy said he had been shot by the soldiers of the State when an infant. An examination of the boy however, showed he was suffering from a kind of bony tumour. There are several chiefs in Ikoko and one of them also practises as a doctor. He has cleared a space about ten feet in diameter and enclosed it for a consulting room, while an inner chamber, still more closely surrounded, is the secret place where the infusions are made and the charms and fetishes consulted. Although many of the drugs used, are efficacious or not, according to the faith of the patient, as in civilised countries, yet the white people constantly tell of apparently wonderful cures by native doctors, and it is certain that the people at present prefer to be treated by those of their own colour. There is also an old lady in Ikoko, the widow of a chief, who is reported to be very clever as a healer. This old person has European features but has an unpleasant expression. The native women wear nothing but a thin belt with a small piece of cloth attached but they are covered with brass rings, and the principle wife of an important chief here was wearing a necklet of solid brass which must have weighed thirty or forty pounds. This was fixed on and had to be worn night and day.



In spite however, of clever doctors, the men do not live to be much over forty years of age. Perhaps they have too many wives for there are far more old women than men. On the other hand, as there must be two or three women to each man, it is only natural to find more of the former at any given age. The infants are not weaned for three or four years and during that period the woman it is said refuses to lie with her husband. Another wife therefore, cohabits with the man while the first rears her child. Polygamy is thus a custom which the missionaries find very difficult to change. The State however, refuses to recognise more than one wife and many of the soldiers are legitimately married by the officials qualified to perform that office.

Much palm wine is consumed by the natives for its manufacture is very simple. A gourd is tied to an upper branch of a palm which is then tapped and the sap drops into the vessel. If this is left all night, fermentation takes place without artificial aid, and at midday a kind of highly scented alcoholic cider is produced which however, is acid and undrinkable by the evening. This natural wine must therefore, be drunk on the day of fermentation and does not improve on keeping.

What a useful tree the palm is! Its trunk, branches and leaves are fine building materials; its matting forms beds and furniture; its oil gives light, acts as butter or lard for cooking, makes soap when mixed with banana juice or an alkali, and indeed, can be used for all the purposes of oil; it forms wine, and the heart of the plant is most excellent eating as a salad. Therefore given meat, the palm tree and the banana, and a town can be built and its inhabitants fed. Both sexes smoke a great deal of tobacco and also Indian hemp, which latter has however, been found so injurious that it is illegal to grow the plant but the native tobacco is not at all unpleasant when smoked in a pipe.

On August 22nd we take a trip up a small river to the East of Ikoko which winds through dense forest and is evidently full of fish, for at intervals, barricades are erected which stretch right across the river, with the exception of a small space to allow canoes to go up and down. In the middle or one side however, an opening is left which can be closed by lowering one of the bamboo nets heavily weighted, vertically down. Platforms are erected ten or twelve feet high to raise or lower these nets and the whole structure is ingeniously and strongly put together. The fish are thus allowed to swim up and are then enclosed in a section of the river, when they are easily caught in baskets. All the riverside population engages in fishing. On the way I shot a toucan, which must have weighed ten or twelve pounds, with number five shot which happened to be in the gun at the time. The bird however, was hit in the head and breast. The natives at once plucked it and having scarcely warmed it at the fire greedily eat it.

At a village called Bokoto a boy was brought to me with his right hand missing, for I was very anxious to see an original of the photos which are so common in England. I was indeed beginning to despair of finding one at all for most of the white men had never seen a case, none of the natives understood what I wished and hitherto no missionary knew where one was to be found. Here however, was a boy with his right hand missing and it had evidently been removed by a sharp instrument, but not I think by a surgeon, for the scars were not such as follow amputation at the wrist joint. Mr. Clarke acted as interpreter and the following conversation took place.

—When was this done?

—During the rubber war when the boy was an infant.

—Who did it?

—The soldiers who came from Bofiji.

—Why did they come?

—Because the natives had not collected rubber.

—Where did this take place?

—In the country behind Bikoro and the mother was killed at the same time as she was carrying away her infant.

Neither the date nor the age of the boy is known, but he appears to be 12 or 13 years of age and his name is Imputela. Although therefore, no proof can be adduced, for the child of course remembers nothing and only knows what he has been told, there is a possibility that a native soldier may have cut off his hand. On the other hand, it may have been injured or cut by a native chief. I mention this case at length, because it was the only one I ever found in a tour of several thousand miles in the interior of the Congo State, although everyone knew I was very anxious to see such cases. On our way back we call at Inkaka another fishing village. Behind it a few of the Batoir tribe had temporarily settled. They are very savage and uncivilised and lead a wandering life, hunting game. Sometimes they act as professional hunters and are employed by villagers to find them food. One young fellow was armed with a bow and wooden arrows poisoned at the tip and carefully wrapped in a leaf. The poison is simply the decomposing matter of dead men or animals. As long as this is wet, it is most deadly but loses its strength when dried. For this reason only is the tip wrapped in a leaf. Death has followed within a few hours of being struck with a poisoned arrow and this is only to be expected, for we know how dangerous it is for surgeons when they wound themselves during an examination of the dead body. On the way home we found a snake in the water and shot it just at the very moment it had seized a fish and was holding it in its mouth. Just as we were picking this out another similar one appeared and this met the same fate. They were bright green in colour and had small heads, but one measured 93 and the other 90 inches in length.

On August 23rd we visit Bikoro a large State plantation of coffee, cocoa and rubber, situated on the bank of the Lake about eight or nine miles from Ikoko. It is conducted by Mr. Monaie, a Swiss gentleman, who has had much experience in horticulture. Here nature has been closely imitated but improved upon. First the undergrowth was cleared from the forest and then the native rubber vines were planted and have commenced to climb the trees. These are not tapped until they are ten years old, for although it is possible to obtain the rubber milk before, the vines are killed or seriously injured if they are cut when too young. Some rubber shrubs from Brazil have also been planted, but do not flourish as well as the native kind. Altogether more than a 1000 hectares have been planted and the various plantations are connected by well kept paths. More than three hundred natives are employed and the work in the shade of the forest must be very pleasant. They are housed in a series of huts in a clearing, which are kept scrupulously clean. There are fifteen or twenty soldiers here who act as policemen—for only the big towns have a separate Police force—and guard the rubber and ivory stores. Gum copal is also found in the district in large quantities and in various qualities and colours. The brick houses for the two officials face the lake and gardens have been laid out which are very neat and tidy, the whole place, although much smaller, rivalling even Irebu in beauty.

Next day I return to Irebu in the Florida a small stern wheel steamer, and find a welcome mail from home and also a permit to shoot game from Boma. This latter is an imposing document of nine articles and gives permission to shoot adult male animals but not female if accompanied by their young, or, if possible to distinguish them, even if alone. The animals named are, hippopotames, baffles, antilopes, gazelles, ibex, chevrotains, les divers sangliers, petits singes, outardes, francolains, perdreaux, pintades and other game birds. Permission is also given to kill in a scientific manner. one elephant in the close season. It will thus be seen that the State is determined to protect the wild animals of the forest from indiscriminate slaughter and stringent laws regulating hunting are decreed from time to time.



CHAPTER V.

The Ubangi River.—Irebu to Banzyville.

We leave Irebu on August 29th in the Florida and steam up the river Ubangi. The colour of the water at once changes for whereas the Congo carries much sand and is brown, the Ubangi carries much clay and is a dirty yellow. The banks are densely wooded and in the stream are many islands also covered with forest. Lying on patches of sand or on the fallen trunks of trees are many crocodiles asleep. There is not much sport in shooting them but one which was leisurely swimming up stream about fifty yards from the ship, made a sporting shot and was killed with a bullet in the heart. As the cabin is small and hot, we arrange to sleep on the bridge of the steamer which is almost embedded in trees when we tie up to the bank for the night. A tornado bursts about midnight, but the dense foliage acts as a protection and very little water finds its way into our improvised bedroom.

Next day we stop at Bobanghe, a native Wood-Post, and go ashore. The huts here are thatched with grass, for palms seem scarce. Some of the men have black beards which they plait into one or two tails, producing a curious appearance and while they fish, the women do the work of the village and the marketing. Several of them were sitting on logs, contentedly puffing tobacco smoke from wooden pipes while they offered fish, fruit and vegetables for sale to our crew and native passengers. One variety of fish was particularly noticeable; it was coloured like a trout, but had a long snout on the dorsal side. We bought one, and it proved very good eating. The forest here is full of rubber plants, nearly every vine and leaf, when broken, yielding the milky sap which dries, or can be coagulated, into rubber.

One day the boy Jean fell overboard, but leisurely undressed in the water and swam to the bank, whence he was rescued by the canoe of the steamer. He was perfectly calm but Chikaia burst into tears and loudly blubbered. Very little indeed is sufficient to arouse emotionalism in some-of the natives, who are always laughing or crying, fortunately the former more often than the latter.

The banks of the Ubangi descend as a rule, sheer into deep water and are often indeed miniature cliffs. No attempt is made to fashion steps and the villagers slide down the banks as best they can and thus form a rude path to the water. A half dozen men in an hour could make a convenient inclined plain or steps, but the native only does what work is absolutely necessary in order to live, and although loving ease, will not take the trouble to make himself more comfortable. So he climbs painfully up the bank every night from his canoe and slides down again every morning without attempting to improve the path. The vanity of the native however, causes him to take great pains to—as he thinks—improve his personal appearance. Brass collars and bangles are very uncommon on the Ubangi and beads take their place. The women wear short skirts made of vegetable fibres plaited, which must take days or weeks to construct. These are black or red in colour and are suspended from the waist, but as the fibre is somewhat stiff, they project all round like the dress of a ballet dancer. These are peculiar to the Ubangi and are rarely worn by other tribes. The men wear only loin cloths and often carry a large straight knife suspended by a leather belt strapped round the chest.

It is very hot from midday to sunset, but the nights are comparatively cool. One afternoon we saw a great number of serpent-birds perched high up on a bulbous tree, and, as they are good to eat, stopped to shoot some. They were not at all shy and did not depart after several shots had been fired, but wheeled round and round as if to discover what was the cause of the strange noise. Ball, 3 and 5' shot were equally efficacious and more than a dozen fell in a few minutes. These birds have a beautiful black and white plumage with a long neck and bill and webbed feet and weigh five or six pounds each. The flavour is somewhat like ptarmigan and the natives eat them, as usual, without waiting until they were properly cooked.

In the evening I took a stroll in the forest and soon found the recent spoor of an elephant. Chikaia was just ahead, when he suddenly stopped and whispered macat pointing in the air. There was a fine monkey and the boy's instinct for such a choice morsel, actually caused him to stop, although he knew very well it would have been absurd to fire and so frighten the elephant. At one time we must have been within a few yards of the beast when a snapping of a twig or some sound disturbed him and with a bellow he rushed away crashing through the forest. It is curious that while birds are so bold in Africa, ground game is extremely shy and most difficult to stalk.

On September 2nd we reach Imese, the first place on the Ubangi where there are white men. Mr. Donneaux was the Chef du poste and everything was in good order. Rubber vines were being planted in the forest and rubber shrubs in the clearings. Coffee was also growing and pineapples and other fruits looked well. All the houses are, as usual, of brick which are of better quality than on the Congo, as the clay is good and very abundant. The native village is about ten minutes' walk distant and is arranged in two or three regular streets and not in patches of huts dotted down here and there as in the Lake Tumba District. The State impost here is one kilogramme of rubber each month from each man for which he is paid 40 or 50 centimes. Collecting this amount takes one or two days and the rest of the time the native works for himself or not as he chooses. Here the people seem more industrious than in most parts, many women being engaged in making mats and pottery. The pots are fashioned by hand with the aid of a round stone and are so wonderfully symmetrical that they resemble those made on a lathe. The clay is obtained from the river bed by diving and after the vessel is made, it is first dried in the sun and then baked in a wood fire. While still hot, it is painted with gum copal which renders it water-tight.



At dinner we have a dish called beefsteak American. formed apparently of very tender, cold meat with green salad and mayonnaise. On asking however, we hear it is the raw flesh of goat cut up small. It is certainly the best way of eating goat's flesh, for any method of cooking seems to extract what little juice it possesses and convert it into a substance resembling old leather. The name is curious, for it is neither beef nor steak, and is probably as rare in America as Irish stew is in Ireland or Welsh rarebit in Wales.

There are some very fine canoes here, very often carved throughout their entire length, a favourite device being a crocodile. Two or three very large tom-toms. are also in the village. These instruments are carved from a solid piece of a tree six or eight feet long, most of the interior being extracted through a narrow slit-like aperture two or three inches wide and running nearly the length of the tom-tom. The result is a hollow instrument, giving one or two different notes when struck in different parts which can be heard for many miles. In case of war, the whole country side can be quickly aroused, but the tom-tom. is also used during peace as a telegraph.

At Imese two soldiers and their future brides came on board for the purpose of travelling to Libenge to be married, for only Commissaires of Districts and Missionaries can legally join two into one. The send off was quite pretty, the happy couples being pelted with flowers as they stepped on board, while one friend—perhaps a kind of best man—threw his cap into the river. The State encourages regular marriages, especially among the soldiers. The wife then works in the gardens or plantations, while her husband drills, and returns at midday and in the evening to cook his food.

Next day we reach Dongo, a village situated on a hill perhaps 200 feet high. After looking at flat forest for weeks, this appears a veritable mountain and it seems quite a stiff climb up the rough path constructed as usual only by the feet of the people who have used it. Mr. Vannini, an Italian officer, is constructing a Post here with the aid of some ten or fifteen soldiers. Dongo is a very large village containing perhaps 3000 people and the huts are arranged in streets running parallel to each other with their ends towards the river. The physique of the people is very good indeed, some of the men being more than six feet in height. The women mostly wear copper collars, three inches high and with a second horizontal collar attached on the outside. The whole is hammered on and must be intensely uncomfortable. A special pillow, consisting of a piece of wood hollowed out for the head is necessary, as sleep would otherwise be impossible with such a contrivance round the neck. A great number of children run about and seem to be well nourished. Some have large heads and protruding stomachs, without however, other signs of rickets. Many of the men are painted with yellow stripes, an indication that they have killed their man in battle, and these donned their fighting clothes of many colours and with shields and spears posed to be photographed, dancing around and uttering wild war whoops. A human skull partly buried in the middle of a road is evidently a souvenir of the terrible orgy which followed some recent encounter. Indeed all the people here are cannibals and those killed or captured in war, except women and children, are always eaten. When not fighting, the people fish, collect rubber, grow kwanga and generally work fairly well and are not troublesome. Mr. Vannini, however, evidently thinks it safer to erect a high stockade around his house and the huts of the soldiers. This is a wise precaution, as only a few months ago four French traders were killed and eaten on the opposite bank of the river.

After passing several densely populated villages, one of which extends in a straight line for ten miles, we reach Libenge, the capital of the Ubangi District. The houses here have been arranged around a square with one side open to the river. In one of these we take up our quarters and then go for a stroll with Captain Bertrand, the Commissaire of the District, and Dr. Rhodain, the medical officer for Ubangi. The latter states that he has only seen two cases of sleeping sickness in several years' residence and that there is no syphilis, small-pox or tuberculosis in the neighbourhood. The people work well here,—the villagers collecting the usual kilogramme per month, while the workers in the plantations clear the forest and plant more rubber for future use. The hunting here is very good in the dry season. Now however, it is necessary to wade in water three feet deep in the forest. Spoor of elephant and antelope abound and there are several magnificent eagles and hawks overhead.

The chief difficulty here for Europeans is the water question. Although much of this necessity is on all sides, it is not of good drinking quality and dysentery is therefore common, while bilious fever and hematuria are also known.

One night at Libenge as we were playing bridge, the sentry suddenly fired and the bullet whistled uncomfortably close by the door of our house. The guard turned out very quickly without any fuss and passed at the double. A single sharp order was given and then all was quiet again. Next day we heard that a thief had penetrated to the rubber store when he was seen by the sentry, who fired the alarm, but the man was not captured. All the natives here seem anxious to trade. Ladies sell us their brass bangles for a tea cup full of salt and their dresses for a similar amount. Spears, knives and many other curios are also offered for sale some of which have evidently been hastily made since our arrival.

We leave Libenge on September 9th and continue our journey in the Florida, this being her first trip up the river higher than this point for at low water, the rapids above cannot be navigated by steamers at all. Now however, the depth is almost at its maximum, and as the boat only draws two feet, she can pass over the rocks with great ease. In the afternoon we stop at a village and ask for wood, for as there was no regular steamer service, there were no organised Wood Posts. The natives at first brought down a log or two and demanded payment at an exorbitant rate, which the captain refused to give, and it became necessary for our crew to go ashore and cut wood themselves. The Chief seemed willing to deal fairly, but evidently had little authority over his lazy people. Then on again through the tornado, which at this season appears daily with great regularity either in the afternoon or at night time. The scenery is now changing, for we are approaching the limits of the great equatorial forest. Hills, which appear like mountains, after the dead level, can be seen in front covered with grass and a few trees.

On September 10th, we reach Songo a small State Post in charge of a native from Sierra Leone. Here we pitch our tents in a clearing and proceed to re-arrange the baggage, for we shall have now to travel in canoes, the river not being navigable for steamers for some distance. Immediately above Songo indeed is the first of the Ubangi rapids, the water roaring and hissing as it fights its way down and over the rocks. Just before bedtime, Chikaia comes with a long face and evidently much disturbed and asks for a gun or rifle to protect himself, as the indigenes are supposed to be very savage here. This of course I refuse, and tell him to go to sleep by the fire and not be foolish. However, I notice that both my rifle and gun are loaded and carefully placed by my bedside. The boys then organise a watch over the baggage, taking it in turn to act as sentry. On the opposite side of the river is Bangi, the second most important place in the French Congo, prettily situated on the side of a hill, and next day we cross in a small canoe. The journey is interesting and exciting. Below the rapids are many small whirlpools, and the capita of the canoe takes advantage of these to help him on his course. Sometimes the water at the upper and sometimes at the lower edge of the whirlpool is flowing in the direction he wishes to take and with wonderful dexterity, he turns the bow of the canoe towards a suitable current. We swing about like a cork and ship a good deal of water but arrive without mishap on the other side. We call on Mr. Jacques, the Vice Governor General of the French Congo, who kindly offers us assistance and a few soldiers to act as sentries and interpreters when we camp on the French side of the river. Most of these are Senegalese and are smart looking fellows. The natives here affect a very elaborate head dress consisting of many coloured beads twisted and plaited into their hair, the amount of time and patience required by the barbers being enormous.

It appears that the four French traders, who were massacred a few weeks ago, had two factories, one close to the river and one further inland. In the latter was a large stock of arms and ammunition. These were hastily abandoned and the natives then seized them and attacked the factory on the river. All four white men were killed and it is feared that two were first tied to trees and tortured. A punitive expedition has been sent against the tribe who are now armed with these modern rifles and the moral of the story is obviously that it is very dangerous to permit traders to import and sell arms at all.

One night I was awakened and saw the boys dancing excitedly about the fire and in front of my tent. Having asked the matter, Chikaia, whose zoological knowledge is very limited, replied il est la petite bete. This sounded like mosquitoes so, having tucked in my net more closely, I turned round to sleep. A few minutes afterwards, Lord Mountmorres appeared shouting with pain and mounting a chair in front of my tent rapidly peeled off his clothes. He said his bed was full of great black ants which had fixed on his skin and were biting him all over. Millions of these pests indeed were on the camping ground but had as yet not reached my tent. Hastily pulling on high boots and covering myself from head to foot, I cautiously crept out of the tent and found the ground black with ants. It was impossible to kill them by stamping about for they were simply driven into the soft sand and wriggled out again the moment the foot was withdrawn. We were evidently in the line of march of a migrating host and were forced to beat a hasty retreat leaving the insects in full possession.

There is no drinking water at Songo, so we had to boil and filter that from the river. This proved very difficult, for even after allowing it to settle and then carefully decanting it, there was so much mud left, that the pores of the porcelain candles in the filters frequently became blocked. We had therefore to be content with muddy water well boiled. As we had a fair amount of baggage, we required sixty or seventy paddlers and it was not easy to find so many. At length however, after searching on both sides of the river, crews were collected for three large canoes and we arranged to continue our journey on September 14th.

The canoes were lifted up the Songo rapids empty, while the baggage was carried along the bank. It was then stowed in the boats and having taken our places we made a start. The method of propulsion is very interesting to watch. The canoes are sixty or seventy feet long and three or four wide. In the centre is an awning to shade the white man and in front by the bows, a space is left about ten feet long in which three pole men work. These use their poles as in punting, except that the ends are forked, so that they are enabled to push either against the bottom of the river or rocks, or branches of trees on the bank, for the canoe keeps close to the shore all the time in order to give the polemen an opportunity and also to avoid the swifter current running in the centre of the river. In the stern twenty or thirty paddlers sit on the sides of the boat and work together, while on the extreme end two or three stand up with long paddles to steer. The cook with his fire built on a heap of clay in the bottom of the canoe, sits among the paddlers and the sentries and baggage tuck themselves in somewhere, for it is wonderful how many people and how much baggage these canoes will carry.

Soon after starting we pass the Catholic Mission on the French bank and immediately begin to fight a rapid. The paddlers strain every muscle, the pole men push with all their strength against rocks and tree trunks and the soldiers help by pulling on branches of trees or anything else which is fixed. The water whirls past as we creep up inch by inch. At one moment gaining, at another losing, the excitement being intense, for if once we are conquered by the stream, the canoe will probably be broken to pieces on the rocks. At times some of the crew jump out and clinging with their feet to the rocks, while up to their middle in the torrent, push the boat up with all their strength. At length smooth water is reached and on we go quietly for an hour or two, when another rapid is reached and the struggle commences again. The work is intensely hard and dangerous, but the Sangos are expert boatmen and seem anxious to finish their task as soon as possible. In rough water or smooth, the crews race along, singing, shouting and encouraging each other to make one more effort. After an exciting and tiring day we reach a village and having seen the crews rationed, pitch our tents.

On again at 6.30. a.m. in a heavy river mist which however, is soon dispersed as the sun rises. The rapids, which at first had the excitement of novelty, began to pall for it was tiresome not being able to read or sleep without being disturbed by the possibility of a bath in a current running, at the rate of perhaps fifteen miles an hour, between rocks. Towards sunset we reach the site of Bokanda, a village now deserted, for some years ago the Chief with his people migrated across the river to the French side. We decide therefore, to sleep in the new village and proceed to cross, but are still in mid stream when we see the majority of the people running away into the forest behind, the women gathering up their children and household utensils, while the men followed more leisurely. The Chief however, and a few braves appear on the beach with guns and for a moment it looks as though they mean mischief. They evidently however think better of it, for we land unmolested and send interpreters to say we are hunters and only desire a place for our camp and food for our men. The Chief at once advances and gives us chickens and eggs while the soldiers pitch the tents in the square of the village.

On again at daybreak, the journey being still more tiring, for it is impossible to force the canoes heavily laden up some of the cataracts. We have therefore to land three times and while the baggage is carried along the bank, the empty canoes are hauled up with ropes. At length the elephant rapids are safely negotiated and an hour or two afterwards Mokoangai is reached but in three long days' hard work, we have ascended only about thirty miles of the river.

At Mokoangai is a large plantation and farm and well built houses for the one or two white men who live there. Next day I start before daybreak hunting. The country is open and hilly, covered generally with grass eight or ten feet high. Still there are many places where the ground is almost bare and it is an ideal spot for stalking game. After walking a few miles in a mist, we see several antelopes and endeavour to stalk them. While still nearly a hundred yards away, they commence to walk slowly towards cover but it is possible to get a fair side shot and one falls heavily hit in the shoulder. Soon after an elephant suddenly appears about two hundred yards ahead walking along the crest of a hill. Sending the native hunter to pick up the antelope, Chikaia and I follow the elephant's spoor for some hours, but do not come up with it or find other game. We were now high up on the range of hills behind Mokoangai and the view was magnificent. The great river could be seen winding its way between the hills covered with the vivid greens only to be found in damp tropical countries. Otherwise the picture somewhat recalled central Wales with a Wye magnified a hundred times. Chikaia had walked a long way carrying a heavy rifle, and now showed signs of fatigue so he was encouraged by being allowed to shoot a monkey on the way home.

Next day being Sunday, we rest quietly in the Post and prepare to leave next morning in the Aia which is one of the first launches Stanley took to Africa and is therefore, somewhat ancient. Since she is too small to carry much baggage, she tows a large open iron boat nearly the same size alongside. In this the camp is slowed and the boys and soldiers take their places sitting on the bales and cases, and we make a start on Monday September 19th for Banzyville. Fortunately there are no rapids in this stretch of the river and it is at least possible to stand up comfortably in the launch, whereas in the canoes, it was necessary to sit still in a long hammock chair for practically twelve hours each day.

The people and villages now change much in appearance for the huts are shaped like beehives and are made of frameworks of wood covered with grass. The entrance is only about three feet high and the dome of the roof perhaps four times that height. In some of them a kind of platform is erected which seems to be an attempt to make a two storey building of the hut. The women are here either quite nude or wear a small piece of cloth or grass below the waist; the men however all have a loin cloth. All the people seem to be of fine physique and the proportion of children is abnormally high. The first night we stop at a trading post of the Dutch Company on the French side of the river and are hospitably received by the agents there.

Next day we reach the Catholic Mission of Sainte Famille also on French territory. The Fathers have laid out a large plantation and farm; horses, cattle, sheep, goats and poultry all doing well. Indeed modern American ploughs and carts give the farm quite a home-like appearance. Maize, oranges, bananas, pineapples and many vegetables are here in abundance. Sleeping Sickness is not known, which immunity is attributed by the priests to the fact that the natives have plenty of fresh meat and eat little kwanga. Apparently the disease is due to a bacillus. It is however, at least possible that the new diet of the civilised native may be a predisposing factor. The savage is naturally carnivorous and before the advent of the white man, had little to eat but animal flesh. Now his chief article of diet in the western parts of the Congo is kwanga, which consists chiefly of starch, and he has only a little meat and fish. Along the Congo where the native is civilised, there is much sleeping sickness, but along the Ubangi where he is more savage, there is practically none. The Fathers give us some spirits distilled from the papye and pineapple which are very good and beer made from maize which is not. They then show us round the grounds and before we leave load us with eggs and fresh vegetables which are very acceptable. At sunset we tie up to the bank and make a camp. It is wonderful how quickly the grass is cut down, the tents erected, fires lighted and dinner cooked, for when the native knows he has to perform a certain definite task, he works hard, so that he can eat his dinner and get to sleep as soon as possible. Chikaia apparently has a fine sense of satire or humour. A table was broken and when I asked how it was done, Chikaia instead of answering "it has been done a long time" as an European servant would, went one better and said "it has always been like that." "I suppose it was made so," I replied. "Yes, Sir" was the answer and there was no more to be said.

The banks of the river are here lined with villages and each time we stop crowds run to see the steamer, while the Chief comes on board, shakes hands solemnly and presents eggs, chicken or a goat. In return we hand back a good value in cloth, beads or salt. Mitakos are not seen here at all, for beads are used instead. The natives always seemed grateful and satisfied with their presents, which was rarely the case on the Congo where the people generally grumble even when they receive many times the value of the article they sell. We camp at the village of Dru, where we find it very difficult to pitch tents owing to the rocky nature of the soil.

On September 22nd we reach the Kuangu river where is situated the chief post of a French Trading Company. The buildings are as usual of bricks, the mortar being made of the shells of river oysters and sand. Soon after our arrival, a poor native was brought in whose hand had been terribly mangled in a circular saw. We dressed it as carefully as possible and fixed it on a splint until he could reach a post with a hospital. In the night however, weird chanting was heard and next day we discovered that his friends had been exorcising the evil spirits—i.e. the perchloride of mercury in which the hand had been washed—had torn off all the bandages and sent the boy a way in a canoe to avoid the white medicine man. The hand will almost certainly fall off and the further history of the boy will perhaps be interesting. One of the traders, Mr. Constantine, a Swiss, said he had been stationed in the interior and had heard no news since January. We are only able to bring him up to June, three months behind date. This gentleman has had an interesting career. He fought for England in the Matabele war and then settled in the Orange Free State where he was commandeered by Cronje and forced into the trenches at Magersfontein, but to his own great satisfaction was soon taken prisoner by the British and was very well treated. He now lives absolutely alone, without a guard of any sort, some days' journey from the river and feels quite safe, for the natives here look upon a white man as a protection from the Arabs. This Company trades in rubber with the natives, paying in beads at the rate of 40 centimes a kilogramme. It is therefore, unlikely that many natives migrate to the French Congo where they receive no more pay for their work than in the State, and are besides taxed. The country behind the station is flat veldt and only a few small elephants are occasionally found. The usual heavy tornado bursts in the afternoon nearly filling the launch and boat with water in a very short time. Having bought some wine and other stores, from the Company we next day continue up the river past many villages all densely populated. The architecture has again changed, the huts now being tent shaped and rising to a point in the centre which is sometimes ornamented with a pair of antelope horns. Some of the villages have plantations and all the inhabitants seem desirous to trade, salt being the substance usually demanded in return for lances, knives or curios. Indeed, even our own people wish to do a little business, and after buying articles from the villagers, try to sell them to us at no doubt a greatly enhanced price. The higher one travels up the river, the more numerous and densely populated are the villages until they extend almost without a break for many miles along the banks. Each one supplies us with a bras of wood which is paid for with beads. The scenery here in the very centre of Africa is beautiful, range after range of hills, not however very high, extending as far as the eye can see. These are covered with grass, which near the villages is often burnt off, leaving black patches. On these the manioc will be planted for two years and then new areas will be cleared in the same manner. It is very hot in the day time and very humid, so that it is extremely difficult to preserve anything. Stitches rot in leather and the soles of boots fall off, guns and rifles have to be oiled carefully every day and cigars are completely spoilt in a few hours unless kept in tin boxes. Can one wonder therefore that the human system soon breaks down in this vapour bath and that sickness is very common in this part. There is not much game to be seen from the river but occasionally a covey of partridges rises from the grass and comes within gun shot of the launch.

The day before we reached Banzyville we found the steamer of the French Company and paid a visit to the Director, where we drank to the Anglo-French agreement, news of which had just arrived. Every Frenchman in Africa is delighted with the gift of territory as every Englishman should be with the settlement of so many prickly questions.



CHAPTER VI.

The Upper Ubangi.—Banzyville to Yakoma.

Banzyville has been built on a beautiful site at a double bend of the river. Opposite is the French Post of Mobaie and between them roars a rapid. The country on each side is hilly, while the soil is rocky, great boulders of granite and quartz lying about in isolated grandeur. We reach the Post on the morning of September 26th and are met by Captain Auita, an Italian, who is the Zone Chief here. The buildings are arranged on two sides of a square, the other two being formed by the river as it turns to the left, and the open space is covered with gravel which makes a welcome change from sand and clay while the house placed at our disposal looks particularly inviting after a week of tents and the small launch. Everything is wet through and has to be spread out on the gravel to dry under nature's great fire. Unfortunately some of the skins, which perforce have been left in cases for a week, under water one minute and baked in the sun the next, have hopelessly rotted and have to be thrown away. Next morning we interviewed numbers of native Chiefs who were all very anxious to exchange lances and other curiosities for European clothes. All were content with Bulamatadi, although some grumbled at the necessity to find porters and paddlers.

This is evidently one of the most populous districts in the whole Congo, for on all sides, both at the river edge and on the hill tops, are large villages consisting of tent-shaped huts and shimbeks, or square open sheds, under which the natives sit and sleep most of the day. Besides rubber, great quantities of rice are grown here, the plantations extending parallel to the river for more than two miles. Here men, women, and children are at work and those near the road come forward, give a military salute and shake hands, a custom peculiar to this part, for hitherto the women have not saluted and only the chiefs offered the hand. Many of the people have thin lips and Semitic noses and most are well made. As usual, if one meets a husband and wife, the former strolls ahead with a spear or stick, while the latter follows carrying a baby riding on one of her hips, tied on by her wrap of cloth, and with a heavy load of wood or food-stuff on her head. We cross the river in the evening and dine with Captain Meilleur at Mobaie. The French villages are identical with those on the State side, but the natives are, if possible, still more idle.

Next morning much rubber is brought into Banzyville. Strings of natives, each with a little basket-full of this substance, march into the square and sit down in lines on the gravel. The baskets are then weighed on a yard arm and the weights entered in a book by Captain Auita until a record of the whole has been made when the chattering throng departs to a shed near by where five cooks have been hard at work preparing dinner for them. The natives here are paid in cloth at the rate of 50 or 60 centimes a kilogramme according to the quality of the rubber and although each man is supposed to supply only one kilogramme a month some of the villages here send in more than a ton in that time.

Mr. Fernaka, the second in command, arrived on the 28th after marching for thirty days in the interior over unexplored ground. He said it was mostly marsh land containing a few villages from which the inhabitants, seeing the white man approach with his soldiers, fled into the bush. At first indeed the natives are always fearful of the whites, but in a short time are willing to trade and soon become very friendly. The native, in fact, quickly acquires absolute confidence in Europeans and his fear at first is, obviously, only the fear of the unknown. It is rather amusing to see the children in villages where few white men have penetrated, run shrieking with terror to their mothers when a strange looking person, with a white face and clothes appears. At the sound of the launch whistle also many children run away. One of the soldiers, a sergeant of some years' standing who accompanied Mr. Fernaka on his arduous march, unfortunately contracted dysentery and arrived at Banzyville only to die. We attend the funeral, the absolute simplicity of the ceremony being very impressive. All the troops here, perhaps seventy or eighty marched with reversed arms to the cemetery after the buglers sounding the Last Post and lined up opposite the grave. The order was given to present arms, the coffin was lowered, each person present threw a handful of earth into the grave and all was over. Far into the night, however, one could hear the mournful dirge the soldiers were chanting for their dead comrade. Hunting here is difficult although game abounds, the grass being high enough to conceal antelopes and everything else except elephants. After a walk through rough country and water for six hours without success, I was glad to get into my hammock and was jogged back home by perspiring natives, who took turns to carry their burden and changed about every ten minutes. Altogether the hammock is not comfortable, and it is obviously useless hunting here until the grass is burnt. Next day, being very tired and stiff, I pass the time looking through Civilisation in Congoland again. Having now visited many of the places mentioned in that book, the difficulties which beset a writer who publishes a work on a country he has never seen, become very apparent. In fact, it gives no more idea of the condition of the Congo than a file of the Police News would convey an impression of English civilisation. When one has visited some hundreds of villages and seen perhaps a million of natives, most of whom seem cheerful and contented, one marvels indeed how such absolutely false reports of the condition of the country can have originated. On the other hand, it is impossible to travel several thousands of miles in the Congo—especially in the unfrequented parts—without constantly wondering what is the extraordinary power which enables a few hundred white men, not only to govern as many million blacks, but to open up and develop a country as large as the continent of Europe, which a few years ago was absolutely unknown.

We can dismiss at once the idea that the native is suppressed by military despotism, for the Posts are isolated and the number of troops in them merely sufficient to guard property and stores, that is to say, to fulfil the duties of policemen in England. At any moment the thousands of natives who live in or near the Posts, could overwhelm these small forces long before help could arrive from the next Government Station, in many cases a week's journey distant. The fact that they do not do so, is at least negative evidence that the white men do not ill treat the people. There is however, much positive evidence that the native has, not only a great respect, but also an affection for his new rulers, and it is not difficult to understand the reason, when we compare his fate before the advent of the Europeans with his condition at present.

In each village was a Chief or Chiefs, freemen and slaves who passed their lives hunting and fighting other tribes. The sole property of the Chiefs and freemen were their huts, canoes, and slaves, and the rude instruments they used in war and hunting. The unfortunate slaves were bought and sold, captured in war and were often killed and eaten. One slave was worth so many goats, lances, or knives, and one large canoe would buy several women. Legislation rested with the Chiefs and trial by ordeal was common, but always so arranged that the result could be controlled by the judge. This is not the place however, to describe these interesting, if horrible practices.

Now at present the people are rich beyond the wildest dreams of their ancestors for the value of the property of the great Chiefs has greatly increased, since they have dealt with Europeans. Again the Chief of a small village containing 1000 men supplies 1000 kilogrammes of rubber each month to the State for 50 centimes a kilo. To collect this amount takes two or three days; each year therefore the village receives L240 for collecting a substance of no value at all to the natives whose daily routine in the meantime is scarcely affected at all. The natives used ivory chiefly to make war horns, but some of the Chiefs had so much that they constructed fences of fine points round their mud huts little thinking that in the white man's country, those useless tusks would be worth a small mountain of salt. Now they exchange them for clothes, cloth, salt, and other useful commodities. The lucky owner of a canoe, it is true, can no longer buy three or four slaves with it, but he can use it to transport produce or to catch fish, for which he is well paid. Again compare the lot of the slave in the past with his present condition. He was liable to the most terrible fate at any moment; now he can enter the army, work in the plantations or remain safely in his village and do a few hours' work each month. There is however, another force acting which we should hardly expect would affect the mind of a savage. He is greatly influenced by a desire to ascend the social ladder at the summit of which, is of course, the white man, and anyone having direct dealings with him, at once knows himself to be superior to the naked cannibal of the forest. The servant, or boy, of the white man, holds a high rank and considers himself to be quite another species of man than his cousin, who is still uncivilised. So also the soldiers and workers in the plantations, who come into daily contact with the officials. All the most intelligent and ambitious natives are thus drawn away from their primitive condition of life and become attached to their masters, who give them cloth to wear and beads with which to beautify themselves. The most important Chiefs are as anxious indeed to appear like Europeans, as a prosperous native of Sierra Leone, is to wear patent boots and carry a silk umbrella. There is one near here named Bayer, a young man of much intelligence and business capacity, who has built himself a brick house, dresses like a European, and is a proud man when he is asked to smoke a cigar on the verandah of the mess. The Chiefs are, however, never asked to eat with the Europeans, a distinction which is both necessary and wise.



It daily becomes more and more obvious that the white man is greatly respected and that his word is absolutely trusted. What he says is true and what he promises, he does. The native appears to respect these characteristics perhaps all the more because he is so lamentably deficient in them himself.

It is indeed the respect caused by moral not physical force which enables a few Europeans to govern this great country with success, and permits one or two white men to live securely with a few soldiers in an isolated Post surrounded by thousands of natives most of whom are savage cannibals.

There are, however, many difficulties yet to be surmounted, and among them is the arrangement of a satisfactory currency. This was brought home forcibly on October 1st when according to weekly custom, the people in the villages around brought in food for the Post. Many women appeared with large bunches of bananas for which as a rule, they are paid by beads. In this prosperous part the heads of the women are already fully adorned with beads and most of their household ornaments also, so they demanded cloth instead.

The question of the currency is a very difficult one. There is the danger of flooding the banks of the Congo with mitakos, and the banks of the Ubangi with beads. In other words these articles which function as money are not used as rapidly as they are supplied, and a lady whose limbs are already weighted with brass rings and whose head is heavy with beads, wishes for some other payment. There is a warehouse at each of the State Posts in which cloth, clothes, beads, salt, and many other commodities likely to be of use to the natives are kept, but it is manifestly impossible to give as wages to each individual the particular object he desires at the particular moment. The objection to beads and mitakos, does not apply to salt and cloth, the former being at once consumed, and the latter being worn out in course of time. Nevertheless it is not well to have a currency which is continually being formed only to be destroyed. The money currency, already existing in the Lower Congo will, however, in course of time be extended, but there are still many difficulties in the way. Francs and centimes will of course be of no use to the natives, unless Stores are still kept at the State Posts at which they can buy whatever they wish. This great question is, however, occupying the careful attention of the Government, and will no doubt be settled as satisfactorily as many others have been which were equally difficult.

Sunday is always an interesting day in a State Post, for the Chiefs with many followers come in for a friendly chat and to ask advice. October 2nd was particularly exciting for a new Chief had been elected in a village near Banzyville, and great rejoicings consequently followed. Singing, shouting, dancing and a general hubbub, went on from morning to night, and if the desire to make a noise is any criterion of happiness, these people must be the happiest in the world. There are many forms of dances; sometimes each one shuffles his legs without moving more than a foot or two and then swings his arms, head and body solemnly backwards and forwards; sometimes a number will form a ring, and one after the other will leap into it and rapidly rotate themselves; but whatever the form, all seemed to be keenly excited and to enjoy it thoroughly.