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_ At length the heralds and forerunners of the royal sun had done their
work, and, searching out the shadows, had caused them to flee away.
Then up he came in glory from his ocean-bed, and flooded the earth
with warmth and light. I sat there in the boat listening to the gentle
lapping of the water and watched him rise, till presently the slight
drift of the boat brought the odd-shaped rock, or peak, at the end of
the promontory which we had weathered with so much peril, between me
and the majestic sight, and blotted it from my view. I still
continued, however, to stare at the rock, absently enough, till
presently it became edged with the fire of the growing light behind
it, and then I started, as well I might, for I perceived that the top
of the peak, which was about eighty feet high by one hundred and fifty
feet thick at its base, was shaped like a negro's head and face,
whereon was stamped a most fiendish and terrifying expression. There
was no doubt about it; there were the thick lips, the fat cheeks, and
the squat nose standing out with startling clearness against the
flaming background. There, too, was the round skull, washed into shape
perhaps by thousands of years of wind and weather, and, to complete
the resemblance, there was a scrubby growth of weeds or lichen upon
it, which against the sun looked for all the world like the wool on a
colossal negro's head. It certainly was very odd; so odd that now I
believe it is not a mere freak of nature but a gigantic monument
fashioned, like the well-known Egyptian Sphinx, by a forgotten people
out of a pile of rock that lent itself to their design, perhaps as an
emblem of warning and defiance to any enemies who approached the
harbour. Unfortunately we were never able to ascertain whether or not
this was the case, inasmuch as the rock was difficult of access both
from the land and the waterside, and we had other things to attend to.
Myself, considering the matter by the light of what we afterwards saw,
I believe that it was fashioned by man, but whether or not this is so,
there it stands, and sullenly stares from age to age out across the
changing sea--there it stood two thousand years and more ago, when
Amenartas, the Egyptian princess, and the wife of Leo's remote
ancestor Kallikrates, gazed upon its devilish face--and there I have
no doubt it will still stand when as many centuries as are numbered
between her day and our own are added to the year that bore us to
oblivion.
"What do you think of that, Job?" I asked of our retainer, who was
sitting on the edge of the boat, trying to get as much sunshine as
possible, and generally looking uncommonly wretched, and I pointed to
the fiery and demonical head.
"Oh Lord, sir," answered Job, who now perceived the object for the
first time, "I think that the old geneleman must have been sitting for
his portrait on them rocks."
I laughed, and the laugh woke up Leo.
"Hullo," he said, "what's the matter with me? I am all stiff--where is
the dhow? Give me some brandy, please."
"You may be thankful that you are not stiffer, my boy," I answered.
"The dhow is sunk, everybody on board her is drowned with the
exception of us four, and your own life was only saved by a miracle";
and whilst Job, now that it was light enough, searched about in a
locker for the brandy for which Leo asked, I told him the history of
our night's adventure.
"Great Heavens!" he said faintly; "and to think that we should have
been chosen to live through it!"
By this time the brandy was forthcoming, and we all had a good pull at
it, and thankful enough we were for it. Also the sun was beginning to
get strength, and warm our chilled bones, for we had been wet through
for five hours or more.
"Why," said Leo, with a gasp as he put down the brandy bottle, "there
is the head the writing talks of, the 'rock carven like the head of an
Ethiopian.'"
"Yes," I said, "there it is."
"Well, then," he answered, "the whole thing is true."
"I don't see at all that that follows," I answered. "We knew this head
was here: your father saw it. Very likely it is not the same head that
the writing talks of; or if it is, it proves nothing."
Leo smiled at me in a superior way. "You are an unbelieving Jew, Uncle
Horace," he said. "Those who live will see."
"Exactly so," I answered, "and now perhaps you will observe that we
are drifting across a sandbank into the mouth of the river. Get hold
of your oar, Job, and we will row in and see if we can find a place to
land."
The river mouth which we were entering did not appear to be a very
wide one, though as yet the long banks of steaming mist that clung
about its shores had not lifted sufficiently to enable us to see its
exact measure. There was, as is the case with nearly every East
African river, a considerable bar at the mouth, which, no doubt, when
the wind was on shore and the tide running out, was absolutely
impassable even for a boat drawing only a few inches. But as things
were it was manageable enough, and we did not ship a cupful of water.
In twenty minutes we were well across it, with but slight assistance
from ourselves, and being carried by a strong though somewhat variable
breeze well up the harbour. By this time the mist was being sucked up
by the sun, which was getting uncomfortably hot, and we saw that the
mouth of the little estuary was here about half a mile across, and
that the banks were very marshy, and crowded with crocodiles lying
about on the mud like logs. About a mile ahead of us, however, was
what appeared to be a strip of firm land, and for this we steered. In
another quarter of an hour we were there, and making the boat fast to
a beautiful tree with broad shining leaves, and flowers of the
magnolia species, only they were rose-coloured and not white,[*] which
hung over the water, we disembarked. This done we undressed, washed
ourselves, and spread our clothes, together with the contents of the
boat, in the sun to dry, which they very quickly did. Then, taking
shelter from the sun under some trees, we made a hearty breakfast off
a "Paysandu" potted tongue, of which we had brought a good quantity
with us, congratulating ourselves loudly on our good fortune in having
loaded and provisioned the boat on the previous day before the
hurricane destroyed the dhow. By the time that we had finished our
meal our clothes were quite dry, and we hastened to get into them,
feeling not a little refreshed. Indeed, with the exception of
weariness and a few bruises, none of us were the worse for the
terrifying adventure which had been fatal to all our companions. Leo,
it is true, had been half-drowned, but that is no great matter to a
vigorous young athlete of five-and-twenty.
[*] There is a known species of magnolia with pink flowers. It is
indigenous in Sikkim, and known as /Magnolia Campbellii/.--Editor.
After breakfast we started to look about us. We were on a strip of dry
land about two hundred yards broad by five hundred long, bordered on
one side by the river, and on the other three by endless desolate
swamps, that stretched as far as the eye could reach. This strip of
land was raised about twenty-five feet above the plain of the
surrounding swamps and the river level: indeed it had every appearance
of having been made by the hand of man.
"This place has been a wharf," said Leo, dogmatically.
"Nonsense," I answered. "Who would be stupid enough to build a wharf
in the middle of these dreadful marshes in a country inhabited by
savages--that is, if it is inhabited at all?"
"Perhaps it was not always marsh, and perhaps the people were not
always savage," he said drily, looking down the steep bank, for we
were standing by the river. "Look there," he went on, pointing to a
spot where the hurricane of the previous night had torn up one of the
magnolia trees by the roots, which had grown on the extreme edge of
the bank just where it sloped down to the water, and lifted a large
cake of earth with them. "Is not that stonework? If not, it is very
like it."
"Nonsense," I said again, but we clambered down to the spot, and got
between the upturned roots and the bank.
"Well?" he said.
But I did not answer this time. I only whistled. For there, laid bare
by the removal of the earth, was an undoubted facing of solid stone
laid in large blocks and bound together with brown cement, so hard
that I could make no impression on it with the file in my shooting-
knife. Nor was this all; seeing something projecting through the soil
at the bottom of the bared patch of walling, I removed the loose earth
with my hands, and revealed a huge stone ring, a foot or more in
diameter, and about three inches thick. This fairly staggered me.
"Looks rather like a wharf where good-sized vessels have been moored,
does it not, Uncle Horace?" said Leo, with an excited grin.
I tried to say "Nonsense" again, but the word stuck in my throat--the
ring spoke for itself. In some past age vessels /had/ been moored
there, and this stone wall was undoubtedly the remnant of a solidly
constructed wharf. Probably the city to which it had belonged lay
buried beneath the swamp behind it.
"Begins to look as though there were something in the story after all,
Uncle Horace," said the exultant Leo; and reflecting on the mysterious
negro's head and the equally mysterious stonework, I made no direct
reply.
"A country like Africa," I said, "is sure to be full of the relics of
long dead and forgotten civilisations. Nobody knows the age of the
Egyptian civilisation, and very likely it had offshoots. Then there
were the Babylonians and the Phœnicians, and the Persians, and all
manner of people, all more or less civilised, to say nothing of the
Jews whom everybody 'wants' nowadays. It is possible that they, or any
one of them, may have had colonies or trading stations about here.
Remember those buried Persian cities that the consul showed us at
Kilwa."[*]
[*] Near Kilwa, on the East Coast of Africa, about 400 miles south of
Zanzibar, is a cliff which has been recently washed by the waves.
On the top of this cliff are Persian tombs known to be at least
seven centuries old by the dates still legible upon them. Beneath
these tombs is a layer of /débris/ representing a city. Farther
down the cliff is a second layer representing an older city, and
farther down still a third layer, the remains of yet another city
of vast and unknown antiquity. Beneath the bottom city were
recently found some specimens of glazed earthenware, such as are
occasionally to be met with on that coast to this day. I believe
that they are now in the possession of Sir John Kirk.--Editor.
"Quite so," said Leo, "but that is not what you said before."
"Well, what is to be done now?" I asked, turning the conversation.
As no answer was forthcoming we walked to the edge of the swamp, and
looked over it. It was apparently boundless, and vast flocks of every
sort of waterfowl flew from its recesses, till it was sometimes
difficult to see the sky. Now that the sun was getting high it drew
thin sickly looking clouds of poisonous vapour from the surface of the
marsh and from the scummy pools of stagnant water.
"Two things are clear to me," I said, addressing my three companions,
who stared at this spectacle in dismay: "first, that we can't go
across there" (I pointed to the swamp), "and, secondly, that if we
stop here we shall certainly die of fever."
"That's as clear as a haystack, sir," said Job.
"Very well, then; there are two alternatives before us. One is to
'bout ship, and try and run for some port in the whale-boat, which
would be a sufficiently risky proceeding, and the other to sail or row
on up the river, and see where we come to."
"I don't know what you are going to do," said Leo, setting his mouth,
"but I am going up that river."
Job turned up the whites of his eyes and groaned, and the Arab
murmured "Allah," and groaned also. As for me, I remarked sweetly that
as we seemed to be between the devil and the deep sea, it did not much
matter where we went. But in reality I was as anxious to proceed as
Leo. The colossal negro's head and the stone wharf had excited my
curiosity to an extent of which I was secretly ashamed, and I was
prepared to gratify it at any cost. Accordingly, having carefully
fitted the mast, restowed the boat, and got out our rifles, we
embarked. Fortunately the wind was blowing on shore from the ocean, so
we were able to hoist the sail. Indeed, we afterwards found out that
as a general rule the wind set on shore from daybreak for some hours,
and off shore again at sunset, and the explanation that I offer of
this is, that when the earth is cooled by the dew and the night the
hot air rises, and the draught rushes in from the sea till the sun has
once more heated it through. At least that appeared to be the rule
here.
Taking advantage of this favouring wind, we sailed merrily up the
river for three or four hours. Once we came across a school of
hippopotami, which rose, and bellowed dreadfully at us within ten or a
dozen fathoms of the boat, much to Job's alarm, and, I will confess,
to my own. These were the first hippopotami that we had ever seen,
and, to judge by their insatiable curiosity, I should judge that we
were the first white men that they had ever seen. Upon my word, I once
or twice thought that they were coming into the boat to gratify it.
Leo wanted to fire at them, but I dissuaded him, fearing the
consequences. Also, we saw hundreds of crocodiles basking on the muddy
banks, and thousands upon thousands of water-fowl. Some of these we
shot, and among them was a wild goose, which, in addition to the
sharp-curved spurs on its wings, had a spur about three-quarters of an
inch long growing from the skull just between the eyes. We never shot
another like it, so I do not know if it was a "sport" or a distinct
species. In the latter case this incident may interest naturalists.
Job named it the Unicorn Goose.
About midday the sun grew intensely hot, and the stench drawn up by it
from the marshes which the river drains was something too awful, and
caused us instantly to swallow precautionary doses of quinine. Shortly
afterwards the breeze died away altogether, and as rowing our heavy
boat against stream in the heat was out of the question, we were
thankful enough to get under the shade of a group of trees--a species
of willow--that grew by the edge of the river, and lie there and gasp
till at length the approach of sunset put a period to our miseries.
Seeing what appeared to be an open space of water straight ahead of
us, we determined to row there before settling what to do for the
night. Just as we were about to loosen the boat, however, a beautiful
waterbuck, with great horns curving forward, and a white stripe across
the rump, came down to the river to drink, without perceiving us
hidden away within fifty yards under the willows. Leo was the first to
catch sight of it, and, being an ardent sportsman, thirsting for the
blood of big game, about which he had been dreaming for months, he
instantly stiffened all over, and pointed like a setter dog. Seeing
what was the matter, I handed him his express rifle, at the same time
taking my own.
"Now then," I whispered, "mind you don't miss."
"Miss!" he whispered back contemptuously; "I could not miss it if I
tried."
He lifted the rifle, and the roan-coloured buck, having drunk his
fill, raised his head and looked out across the river. He was standing
right against the sunset sky on a little eminence, or ridge of ground,
which ran across the swamp, evidently a favourite path for game, and
there was something very beautiful about him. Indeed, I do not think
that if I live to a hundred I shall ever forget that desolate and yet
most fascinating scene; it is stamped upon my memory. To the right and
left were wide stretches of lonely death-breeding swamp, unbroken and
unrelieved so far as the eye could reach, except here and there by
ponds of black and peaty water that, mirror-like, flashed up the red
rays of the setting sun. Behind us and before stretched the vista of
the sluggish river, ending in glimpses of a reed-fringed lagoon, on
the surface of which the long lights of the evening played as the
faint breeze stirred the shadows. To the west loomed the huge red ball
of the sinking sun, now vanishing down the vapoury horizon, and
filling the great heaven, high across whose arch the cranes and
wildfowl streamed in line, square, and triangle, with flashes of
flying gold and the lurid stain of blood. And then ourselves--three
modern Englishmen in a modern English boat--seeming to jar upon and
look out of tone with that measureless desolation; and in front of us
the noble buck limned out upon a background of ruddy sky.
/Bang!/ Away he goes with a mighty bound. Leo has missed him. /Bang!/
right under him again. Now for a shot. I must have one, though he is
going like an arrow, and a hundred yards away and more. By Jove! over
and over and over! "Well, I think I've wiped your eye there, Master
Leo," I say, struggling against the ungenerous exultation that in such
a supreme moment of one's existence will rise in the best-mannered
sportsman's breast.
"Confound you, yes," growled Leo; and then, with that quick smile that
is one of his charms lighting up his handsome face like a ray of
light, "I beg your pardon, old fellow. I congratulate you; it was a
lovely shot, and mine were vile."
We got out of the boat and ran to the buck, which was shot through the
spine and stone dead. It took us a quarter of an hour or more to clean
it and cut off as much of the best meat as we could carry, and, having
packed this away, we had barely light enough to row up into the
lagoon-like space, into which, there being a hollow in the swamp, the
river here expanded. Just as the light vanished we cast anchor about
thirty fathoms from the edge of the lake. We did not dare to go
ashore, not knowing if we should find dry ground to camp on, and
greatly fearing the poisonous exhalations from the marsh, from which
we thought we should be freer on the water. So we lighted a lantern,
and made our evening meal off another potted tongue in the best
fashion that we could, and then prepared to go to sleep, only,
however, to find that sleep was impossible. For, whether they were
attracted by the lantern, or by the unaccustomed smell of a white man
for which they had been waiting for the last thousand years or so, I
know not; but certainly we were presently attacked by tens of
thousands of the most blood-thirsty, pertinacious, and huge mosquitoes
that I ever saw or read of. In clouds they came, and pinged and buzzed
and bit till we were nearly mad. Tobacco smoke only seemed to stir
them into a merrier and more active life, till at length we were
driven to covering ourselves with blankets, head and all, and sitting
to slowly stew and continually scratch and swear beneath them. And as
we sat, suddenly rolling out like thunder through the silence came the
deep roar of a lion, and then of a second lion, moving among the reeds
within sixty yards of us.
"I say," said Leo, sticking his head out from under his blanket,
"lucky we ain't on the bank, eh, Avuncular?" (Leo sometimes addressed
me in this disrespectful way.) "Curse it! a mosquito has bitten me on
the nose," and the head vanished again.
Shortly after this the moon came up, and notwithstanding every variety
of roar that echoed over the water to us from the lions on the banks,
we began, thinking ourselves perfectly secure, to gradually doze off.
I do not quite know what it was that made me poke my head out of the
friendly shelter of the blanket, perhaps because I found that the
mosquitoes were biting right through it. Anyhow, as I did so I heard
Job whisper, in a frightened voice--
"Oh, my stars, look there!"
Instantly we all of us looked, and this was what we saw in the
moonlight. Near the shore were two wide and ever-widening circles of
concentric rings rippling away across the surface of the water, and in
the heart and centre of the circles were two dark moving objects.
"What is it?" asked I.
"It is those damned lions, sir," answered Job, in a tone which was an
odd mixture of a sense of personal injury, habitual respect, and
acknowledged fear, "and they are swimming here to /heat/ us," he
added, nervously picking up an "h" in his agitation.
I looked again: there was no doubt about it; I could catch the glare
of their ferocious eyes. Attracted either by the smell of the newly
killed waterbuck meat or of ourselves, the hungry beasts were actually
storming our position.
Leo already had his rifle in his hand. I called to him to wait till
they were nearer, and meanwhile grabbed my own. Some fifteen feet from
us the water shallowed on a bank to the depth of about fifteen inches,
and presently the first of them--it was the lioness--got on to it,
shook herself, and roared. At that moment Leo fired, the bullet went
right down her open mouth and out at the back of her neck, and down
she dropped, with a splash, dead. The other lion--a full-grown male--
was some two paces behind her. At this second he got his forepaws on
to the bank, when a strange thing happened. There was a rush and
disturbance of the water, such as one sees in a pond in England when a
pike takes a little fish, only a thousand times fiercer and larger,
and suddenly the lion gave a most terrific snarling roar and sprang
forward on to the bank, dragging something black with him.
"Allah!" shouted Mahomed, "a crocodile has got him by the leg!" and
sure enough he had. We could see the long snout with its gleaming
lines of teeth and the reptile body behind it.
And then followed an extraordinary scene indeed. The lion managed to
get well on to the bank, the crocodile half standing and half
swimming, still nipping his hind leg. He roared till the air quivered
with the sound, and then, with a savage, shrieking snarl, turned round
and clawed hold of the crocodile's head. The crocodile shifted his
grip, having, as we afterwards discovered, had one of his eyes torn
out, and slightly turned over; instantly the lion got him by the
throat and held on, and then over and over they rolled upon the bank
struggling hideously. It was impossible to follow their movements, but
when next we got a clear view the tables had turned, for the
crocodile, whose head seemed to be a mass of gore, had got the lion's
body in his iron jaws just above the hips, and was squeezing him and
shaking him to and fro. For his part, the tortured brute, roaring in
agony, was clawing and biting madly at his enemy's scaly head, and
fixing his great hind claws in the crocodile's, comparatively
speaking, soft throat, ripping it open as one would rip a glove.
Then, all of a sudden, the end came. The lion's head fell forward on
the crocodile's back, and with an awful groan he died, and the
crocodile, after standing for a minute motionless, slowly rolled over
on to his side, his jaws still fixed across the carcase of the lion,
which, we afterwards found, he had bitten almost in halves.
This duel to the death was a wonderful and a shocking sight, and one
that I suppose few men have seen--and thus it ended.
When it was all over, leaving Mahomed to keep a look out, we managed
to spend the rest of the night as quietly as the mosquitoes would
allow. _
Read next: CHAPTER VI - AN EARLY CHRISTIAN CEREMONY
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