African Camp Fires 1914

8/7/2019 African Camp Fires 1914

1/481

AFRICAN

STEWART-EDWARDWHITE


2/481


3/481


4/481


5/481

AFRICANCAMP FIRESBY

STEWART EDWARD WHITE

THOMAS NELSON AND SONSLONDON, EDINBURGH, DUBLIN

AND NEW YORK


6/481

BOOKS BYSTEWART EDWARD WHITE." Mr. Stewart Edward White is a TTiomas Hardy, to to

speak, of the primevalforests of the Far West, and of thegreat rivers that run out ofthem over the brink of evening.His large, still newels will live on as a kind of socialhistory. ' The Morning Post.

THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS ... as. net." The best book of travel in Africa that has been published formany years." Tkt Nottingham Daily Exprtts." It is more than a thrilling story of adventure, for Mr. Whiteshows that he is a man of broad sympathies and understanding, andcan not only deal successfully with primitive tribes, but really knowsthem. " Punch.

THE CABIN 2s. net" ' The Cabin ' is a pure delight. We read of a husband and wifecamping out in a little shanty in the heart of a Californian forestthat is all the story ; but around it grows chapter after chapter ofsagacity and fun and insight, and a deep joy in beauty and livingthings. Ai.d all is given to us as simply and sincerely as it was livedthrough and thought through." Tlu Nation,THE FOREST is. net

RULES OF THE GAME 7d. net.THE BLAZED TRAIL 7


7/481

CONTENTS.PART L TO THE ISLAND OF WAR.I. THE OPEN DOOR 9IL THB FAREWELL 17

III. PORT SAID 23IV. SUEZ 33V. THE RED SEA 39VI. ADEN . 51VII. THE INDIAN OCEAN 58VIII. MOMBASA 68

PART II. THE SHIMBA HILLS.IX. A TROPICAL JUNGLE 87X. THE SABLE 100XI. A MARCH ALONG THE COAST . . . 108XII. THE FIRE 117

PART III. NAIROBI.XIII. UP FROM THE COAST . . . . .127XIV. A TOWN OF CONTRASTS . . . .133XV. PEOPLE 140XVI. RECRUITING 150PART IV. A LION HUNT ON KAPITI.

XVII. AN OSTRICH FARM AT MACHAKOS . . 161XVIII. THE FIRST LIONESS 170XIX. THE DOGS 176XX. BONDONI 181


8/481

iv CONTENTS.XXI. RIDING THE PLAINS .... 184XXII. THB SECOND LIONESS . . . .197XXIII. THE Bio LIOK 202XXIV. THE FIFTEEN LIONS . . . .207

PART V. THE TSAVO RIVER.XXV. Voi 215XXVI. TOE FRINOE-EARBD ORYX . . .222XXVII. ACROSS THE SKRBNGBTTI . . . 229

XXVIII. DOWN THE RIVER 237XXIX. THE LESSER KUDU . . .249XXX. ADVENTURES BY THE WAY . . . 257XXXI. THE LOST SAFARI 265XXXII. THE BABU .274

PART VI. IN MASAILAND.XXXIII. OVER THE LIKIPIA ESCARPMEXT . . 283XXXIV. To THE KEDONG 296XXXV. THE TRANSPORT RIDER . . .299XXXVI. ACROSS THE THIRST . . . .307XXXVIL THE SOUTHERN GUASO NYBRO . .315XXXVIII. THE LOWER BENCHES . . . .323XXXIX. NOTES ON THE MASAI . . 341

XL. THROUGH THE ENCHANTED FOREST . 358XLI. NAIOKOTUKU...... 364XLII. SCOUTING IN THE ELEPHANT FOREST . 370XLIIL THE TOPI CAMP 378XLIV. THE UNKNOWN LAND .... 387XLV. THE ROAN 391XLVI. THE GREATER KUDU .... 402XLVII. THE MAGIC PORTALS CLOSE . . . 409XLVIII. THE LAST TREK 412


9/481

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.Trophy room of the author . . . frontispieceWe waited patiently to see the camels slung

aboard by the crane .... Facing page 56Scenes in Mombasa ...... , ; 72Portuguese fort and Arab quarter, Mombasa 80Then suddenly we found ourselves in a

story-book tropical paradise ,, 96The Sable ,,104Inside a fence before the low, stone-built,

wide-verandahed hotel . . . ,,128The control station , ,,136Kongoni . ,, 152Spying for lions from the kopjes . . ,, ,,160The first lioness, the Hills, and Captain

Duirs ....... 168The desert of the Serengetti . . 224Scenes on the Tsavo River 240Bushbuck a very shy bush-dwelling ani-

mal. This photograph is most unusual 248The Lesser Kudu , 256


10/481

vi LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.Each day the pinnacles over the waychanged

slightly their compass bearings . . Facing page 264Timothy, Abba Ali, Leyeye, Mohammed . 288Crossing the Southern Guaso Nyero . . 3120., our hunting companion . 320From it we looked down into the deep gorge

of the Southern Guaso Nyero 328Our camps at Narossara and Lengeetoto . ,, 336Masai men and women ....,, 352I offered a half rupee as a prize for an

archery competition 360Naiokotuku and one of his sons 368In the Elephant country . . . ,,376It was almost exactly like the sage-brush

deserts ...... n 384The Eland and Cape Buffalo 392Our southernmost camp. From this pointwe turned back f 400The Roan ,,408The Greater Kudu , 416


11/481

PART I.TO THE ISLAND OF WAR.


12/481


13/481

AFRICAN CAMP FIEES.I.

THE OPEN DOOR.

THERE are many interesting hotels scatteredabout the world, with a few of which I amacquainted and with a great many of which I amnot. Of course all hotels are interesting, from onepoint of view or another. In fact, the surest wayto fix an audience's attention is to introduce yourhero, or to display your opening chorus in the lobbyor along the faade of a hotel. The life, the move-ment and colour, the drifting individualities, thepretence, the bluff, the self-consciousness, theindependence, the ennui, the darting or loungingservants, the very fact that of those before youreyes seven out of ten are drawn from distant andscattered places, are sufficient in themselves toinvest the smallest hostelry with glamour. It isla


14/481

10 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.not of this general interest that I would now speak.Nor is it my intention at present to glance at thehotels wherein " quaintness " is specialized,whether intentionally or no. There are thousandsof them ; and all of them well worth the discrimi-nating traveller's attention. Concerning some ofthem as the old inns at Dives-sur-Mer and atMont St. Michel whole books have been written.These depend for their charm on a mingled gift ofthe unusual and the picturesque. There are, asI have said, thousands of them ; and of theircataloguing, should one embark on so wide asea, there could be no end. And, again, I mustfor convenience exclude the altogether charmingplaces, like the Tour d'Argent of Paris, Simpson'sof the Strand,* and a dozen others that willspring to every traveller's memory, where thepersonality of the host, or of a chef, or even awaiter, is at once a magnet for the attraction ofvisitors and a reward for their coming. These, too,are many. In the interest to which I would drawattention, the hotel as a building or as an in-stitution has little part. It is indeed a fa9ade, ainise en scene before which play the actors thatattract our attention and applause. The set maybe as modernly elaborate as Peacock Alley of the

* In old days before the " improvements."


15/481

THE OPEN DOOR. 11Waldorf or the templed lobby of the St. Francis ;or it may present the severe and Elizabethansimplicity of the stone-paved veranda of theNorfolk at Nairobi the matter is quite inessen-tial to the spectator. His appreciation is onlyslightly and indirectly influenced by these things.Sunk in his arm-chair of velvet or of canvashe puffs hard and silently at his cigar, watchingand listening as the pageant and the conversationeddy by.Of such hotels I number that gaudy and poly-syllabic hostelry the Grand Hotel du Louvre et dela Paix at Marseilles. I am indifferent to thefacts that it is situated on that fine thoroughfare,the Rue de Cannebiere, which the proud and un-travelled native devoutly believes to be the fineststreet in the world ; that it possesses a dining-room of gilded and painted repouss6 work soelaborate and wonderful that it surely must beintended to represent a tinsmith's dream ofheaven ; that its concierge is the most impressivehuman being on earth except Ludwig von Kampf(whom I have never seen) ; that its head waiteris sadder and more elderly and forgiving than anyother head waiter ; and that its hushed andcathedral atmosphere has been undisturbedthrough immemorial years. That is to be ex-


16/481

12 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.pected; and elsewhere to be duplicated in greateror lesser degree. Nor in the lofty courtyard, or theequally lofty halls and reading-rooms, is thereever much bustle and movement. People sitquietly, or move with circumspection. Servantsglide. The fall of a book or teaspoon, the suddenclosing of a door, are events to be remarked. Oncea day, however, a huge gong sounds, the glassdoors of the inner courtyard are thrown open witha flourish, and enters the huge bus fairly amongthose peacefully sitting at the tables, horses' hoofsstriking fire, long lash-cracking volleys, wheelsroaring amid hollow reverberations. From theinterior of this bus emerge people ; and from thetop, by means of a strangely-constructed hookedladder, are decanted boxes, trunks, and ap-purtenances of various sorts. In these people,and in these boxes, trunks, and appurtenances,are the real interest of the Grand Hotel du Louvreet de la Paix of the marvellous Rue Cannebiereof Marseilles.For at Marseilles land ships, many ships, from

all the scattered ends of the earth; and fromMarseilles depart trains for the North, where ishome, or the way home for many peoples. Andsince the arrival of ships is uncertain, and the de-parture of trains fixed, it follows that everybody


17/481

THE OPEN DOOR. 13descends for a little or greater period at the GrandHotel du Louvre et de la Paix.They come lean and quiet and a little yellowfrom hard climates, with the names of strange

places on their lips, and they speak familiarly offar-off things. Their clothes are generally ofancient cut, and the wrinkles and camphoraroma of a long packing away are yet discernible.Often they are still wearing sun helmets ordouble terai hats, pending a descent on a Piccadillyhatter two days hence. They move slowly andlanguidly ; the ordinary piercing and dominantEnglish enunciation has fallen to modulation ;their eyes, while observant and alert, look tired.It is as though the far countries have sucked some-thing from the pith of them in exchange for greatexperiences that nevertheless seem of little value ;as though these men, having met at last face toface the ultimate of what the earth has to offer inthe way of danger, hardship, difficulty, and thethings that try men's souls, having unexpectedlyfound them all to fall short of both the importanceand the final significance with which human-kindhas always invested them, were now just a littleat a loss. Therefore they stretch their long, leanframes in the wicker chairs, they sip the longdrinks at their elbows, puff slowly at their long,


18/481

14 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.lean cheroots, and talk spasmodically in shortsentences.Of quite a different type are those going out-

young fellows full of northern health and energy,full of the eagerness of anticipation, full of ro-mance skilfully concealed, self-certain, authorita-tive, clear voiced. Their exit from the bus isfollowed by a rain of hold-alls, bags, new tin boxes,new gun cases, all lettered freshly an enormouskit doomed to diminution. They overflow theplace, ebb towards their respective rooms ; returnscrubbed and ruddy, correctly clad, correctly un-conscious of everybody else ; sink into morewicker chairs. The quiet brown and yellow mencontinue to puff at their cheroots, quite eclipsed.After a time one of them picks up his battered oldsun helmet and goes out into the street. The eyesof the newcomers follow him. They fall silent ;and their eyes, under cover of pulled moustache,furtively glance towards the lean man's com-panions. Then on that office falls a great silence,broken only by the occasional rare remarks of thequiet men with the cheroots. The youngstersare listening with all their ears, though from theirappearance no one would suspect that fact. Nota syllable escapes them. These quiet men havebeen there ; they have seen with their own eyes ;


19/481

THE OPEN DOOR. 15their lightest word is saturated with the mysteryand romance of the unknown. Their easy,matter-of-fact, everyday knowledge is richlywonderful. It would seem natural for theseyoung-young men to question these old-youngmen of that which they desire so ardently toknow ; but that isn't done, you know. So theysit tight, and pretend they are not listening, andfeast their ears on the wonderful syllablesAnkobar, Kabul, Peshawur, Annam, Nyassaland,Kerman, Serengetti, Tanganika, and many others.On these beautiful syllables must their imagina-tions feed, for that which is told is as nothing atall. Adventure there is none, romance there isnone, mention of high emprise there is none.Adventure, romance, high emprise have to thesemen somehow lost their importance. Perhapssuch things have been to them too common aswell mention the morning egg. Perhaps theyhave found that there is no genuine adventure, noreal romance except over the edge of the worldwhere the rainbow stoops.The bus rattles in and rattles out again. Ittakes the fresh-faced young men down past theinner harbour to where lie the tall ships waiting.They and their cargo of exuberance, of hope, of en-ergy, of thirst for the bubble adventure, the rain-


20/481

16 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.bow romance, sail away to where these wares havea market. And the quiet men glide away to theNorth. Their wares have been marketed. Thesleepy, fierce, passionate, sunny lands have takenall they had to bring. And have given in ex-change ? Indifference, ill-health,

a profoundrealization that the length of days are as nothingat all ; a supreme agnosticism as to the ultimatevalue of anything that a single man can do, asublime faith that it must be done, the power toconcentrate, patience illimitable ; contempt fordanger, disregard of death, the intention to live ;a final, weary estimate of the fact that mere thingsare as unimportant here as there, no matter howquaintly or fantastically they are dressed ornamed, and a corresponding emptiness of antici-pation for the future these items are only arandom few of the price given by the ancient landsfor that which the northern races bring to them.What other alchemical changes have been wroughtonly these lean and weary men could know ifthey dared look so far within themselves. Andeven if they dared, they would not tell.


21/481

II.

THE FAREWELL.WE boarded ship, filled with a great, andwhat seemed to us, an unappeasable curi-osity as to what we were going to see. It was nota very big ship, in spite of the grandiloquent de-scriptions in the advertisements, or the lithographwherein she cut grandly and evenly through hugewaves to the manifest discomfiture of infinitesimalsailing craft bobbing alongside. She was mannedentirely by Germans. The room stewards waitedat table, cleaned the public saloons, kept thelibrary, rustled the baggage, and played in theband. That is why we took our music betweenmeals. Our staterooms were very tiny indeed.Each was provided with an electric fan ; a totallyinadequate and rather aggravating electric fanonce we had entered the Red Sea. Just at thismoment we paid it little attention, for we were stillin full enjoyment of sunny France, where, in our


22/481

18 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.own experience, it had rained two months steadily.Indeed, at this moment it was raining, raining asteady, cold, sodden drizzle that had not even thegrace to pick out the surface of the harbour in thejolly dancing staccato that goes far to lend attrac-tion to a

genuinelyearnest rainstorm.

Down the long quay splashed cabs and omni-buses, their drivers glistening in wet capes, todischarge under the open shed at the end varioushasty individuals who marshalled long lines ofporters with astonishing impedimenta and drovethem up the gang-plank. A half-dozen roughslounged aimlessly. A little bent old woman witha shawl over her head searched here and there.Occasionally she would find a twisted splinter ofwood torn from the piles by a hawser or gougedfrom the planking by heavy freight, or kickedfrom the floor by the hoofs of horses. This shedeposited carefully in a small covered marketbasket. She was entirely intent on this minuteand rather pathetic task, quite unattending thegreatness of the ship, or the many people thegreat hulk swallowed or spat forth.Near us against the rail leaned a dark-hairedyoung Englishman whom later every man on that

many-nationed ship came to recognize and toavoidas an insufferable bore. Now, however, the angel


23/481

THE FAREWELL. 19of good inspiration stooped to him. He tossed acopper two-sou piece down to the bent old woman.She heard the clink of the fall, and looked upbewildered. One of the waterside roughs slouchedforward. The Englishman shouted a warning anda threat, indicating in pantomime for whom thecoin was intended. To our surprise that evil-looking wharf rat smiled and waved his handreassuringly, then took the old woman by thearm to show her where the coin had fallen. Shehobbled to it with a haste eloquent of the horribleMarseillaise poverty-stricken alleys, picked it upjoyously, turned and with a delightful gracekissed her finger-tips towards the ship.

Apparently we all of us had a few remainingFrench coins ; and certainly we were all gratefulto the young Englishman for his happy thought.The sous descended as fast as the woman could getto where they fell. So numerous were they thatshe had no time to express her gratitude except inbroken snatches or gesture, in interrupted atti-tudes of the most complete thanksgiving. Theday of miracles for her had come ; and from thehumble poverty that valued tiny and infrequentsplinters of wood she had suddenly come intogreat wealth. Everybody was laughing, but in avery kindly sort of way it seemed to me ; and the


24/481

20 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.very wharf rats and gamins, wolfish and fiercein their everyday life of the water-front,seemed to take a genuine pleasure in pointingout to her the resting-place of those her dimold eyes had not seen. Silver pieces followed.These were too wonderful. She grew more andmore excited, until several of the passengers lean-ing over the rail began to murmur warningly,fearing harm. After picking up each of thesesilver pieces, she bowed and gestured very grace-fully, waving both hands outward, lifting eyesand hands to heaven, kissing her fingers, trying byevery means in her power to express the dazzlingwonder and joy that this unexpected marvel wasbringing her. When she had done all these thingsmany times, she hugged herself ecstatically. Avery well-dressed and prosperous-looking French-man standing near seemed to be a little afraid shemight hug him. His fear had, perhaps, somegrounds, for she shook hands with everybody allaround, and showed them her wealth in her ker-chief, explaining eagerly, the tears running downher face.Now the gang-plank was drawn aboard, and theband struck up the usual lively air. At the first

notes the old woman executed a few feeble little jigsteps in sheer exuberance. Then the solemnity of


25/481

THE FAREWELL. 21the situation sobered her. Her great, wealthy,powerful, kind friends were departing on their longvoyage over mysterious seas. Again and again,very earnestly, she repeated the graceful, slowpantomime the wave of the arms outward, theeyes raised to heaven, the hands clasped finallyover her head. As the brown strip of watersilently widened between us it was strangely likea stage scene the roofed sheds of the quay, themotionless groups, the central figure of the oldwoman depicting emotion.

Suddenly she dropped her hands and hobbledaway at a great rate, disappearing finally into themaze of the street beyond. Concluding that shehad decided to get quickly home with her greattreasure, we commended her discretion and gaveour attention to other things.The drizzle fell uninterruptedly. We had edgedsidewise the requisite distance, and were nowgathering headway in our long voyage. Thequail was beginning to recede and to diminish.Back from the street hastened the figure of thelittle old woman. She carried a large white cloth,of which she had evidently been in quest. Thisshe unfolded and waved vigorously with bothhands. Until we had passed quite from sightshe stood there signalling her farewell. Long


26/481

22 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.after we were beyond distinguishing her figure wecould catch the flutter of white. Thus that ship'scompany, embarking each on his Great Adven-ture, far from home and friends, received theirfarewell, a very genuine farewell, from onepoor old woman. B. ventured the opinion thatit was the best thing we had bought with ourFrench money.


27/481

III.

PORT SAID.THE time of times to approach Port Said isjust at the fall of dusk. Then the sea liesin opalescent patches, and the low shores fadeaway into the gathering night. The slantingmasts and yards of the dhows silhouette againsta sky of the deepest translucent green ; andthe heroic statue of De Lesseps, standing forever at the Gateway he opened, points alwaysto the mysterious East.The rhythmical, accustomed chug of the en-gines had fallen to quarter speed, leaving anuncanny stillness throughout the ship. Silentlywe slipped between the long piers, drew up onthe waterside town, seized the buoy, and cameto rest. All around us lay other ships of allsizes, motionless on the inky water. The re-flections from their lights seemed to be thrust


28/481

24 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.into the depths, like stilts ; and the few lightsfrom the town reflected shiveringly across. Alongthe water-front all was dark and silent. Wecaught the loom of buildings ; and behind thema dull glow as from a fire, and guessed tall minar-ets, and heard the rising and falling of chanting.Numerous small boats hovered near, floating inand out of the patches of light we ourselves cast,waiting for permission to swarm at the gang-plankfor our patronage.We went ashore, passed through a wicketgate, and across the dark buildings to the heartof the town, whence came the dull glow and thesounds of people.Here were two streets running across oneanother, both brilliantly lighted, both thronged,both lined with little shops. In the latter onecould buy anything, in any language, with anymoney. In them we saw cheap straw hats madein Germany hung side by side with gorgeousand beautiful stuffs from the Orient ; shoddyEuropean garments and Eastern jewels ; cheapcelluloid combs and curious embroideries. Thecrowd of passers-by in the streets were com-pounded in the same curiously mixed fashion ;a few Europeans, generally in white, and then avariety of Arabs, Egyptians, Somalis, Berbers,


29/481

PORT SAID. 25East Indians and the like, each in his owngaudy or graceful costume. It speaks well forthe accuracy of feeling, anyway, of our various" Midways," " Pikes," and the like of ourworld's expositions that the streets of PortSaid looked like Midways raised to the nth power.Along them we sauntered with a pleasing feelingof self-importance. On all sides we were gentlyand humbly besought by the shopkeepers, bythe sidewalk vendors, by would-be guides, byfortune-tellers, by jugglers, by magicians ; allsoft-voiced and respectful ; all yielding as waterto rebuff, but as quick as water to glide backagain. The vendors were of the colours of therainbow, and were heavily hung with long neck-laces of coral or amber, with scarves, with stringsof silver corns, with sequinned veils and silks,girt with many dirks and knives, furnished outin concealed pockets with scarabs, bracelets,sandalwood boxes or anything else under thebroad canopy of heaven one might or might notdesire. Their voices were soft and pleasing,their eyes had the beseeching quality of a gooddog's, their anxious and deprecating faces wereready at the slightest encouragement to breakout into the friendliest and most intimate ofsmiles. Wherever we went we were accom-


30/481

26 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.panied by a retinue straight out of the ArabianNights, patiently awaiting the moment when weshould tire ; should seek out the table of asidewalk cafe ; and should, in our relaxed mood,be ready to unbend to our royal purchases.At that moment we were too much interestedin the town itself. The tiny shops, with theirsmiling and insinuating Oriental keepers, werefascinating in their displays of carved woods,jewellery, perfumes, silks, tapestries, silversmiths'work, ostrich feathers, and the like. To eitherside the main street lay long narrow darkalleys, in which flared single lights, across whichflitted mysterious long-robed figures, from whichfloated stray snatches of music either palpitat-ingly barbaric or ridiculously modern. Therethe authority of the straight, soldierly-lookingSoudanese policemen ceased, and it was notsafe to wander unarmed or alone.

Besides these motley variegations of the Eastand West, the main feature of the town was thestreet car. It was an open-air structure of spa-cious dimensions, as though benches and a canopyhad been erected rather haphazard on a smalldancing platform. The track is absurdly narrowin gauge ; and as a consequence the edificeswayed and swung from side to side. A single


31/481

PORT SAID. 27mule was attached to it loosely by aboutten feet of rope. It was driven by a gaudyragamuffin in a turban. Various other gaudyragamuffins lounged largely and picturesquelyon the widely spaced benches. Whence itcame or whither it went I do not know. Itsorbit swung into the main street, turned a corner,and disappeared. Apparently Europeans did notpatronize this picturesque wreck, but drove ele-gantly but mysteriously in small open cabs con-ducted by totally incongruous turbaned drivers.We ended finally at an imposing corner hotel,where we dined by an open window just abovethe level of the street. A dozen upturned facesbesought us silently during the meal. At aglance of even the mildest interest a dozen longbrown arms thrust the spoils of the East uponour consideration. With us sat a large benignSwedish professor whose erudition was ency-clopaedic, but whose kindly humanity was greater.Uttering deep, cavernous chuckles, the professorbargained. A red coral necklace for the mo-ment was the matter of interest. The professorinspected it carefully, and handed it back.

" I doubt if id iss coral," said he simply.The present owner of the beads went franticwith rapid-fire proof and vociferation. With the


32/481

28 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.swiftness and precision of much repetition hefished out a match, struck it, applied the flameto the alleged coral, and blew out the match ;cast the necklace on the pavement, producedmysteriously a small hammer, and with it pro-ceeded frantically to pound the beads. Evi-dently he was accustomed to being doubted, andcarried his materials for proof around with him.Then, in one motion, the hammer disappeared,the beads were snatched up, and again offered,unharmed, for inspection." Are those good tests for genuineness ?

" weasked the professor, aside." As to that," he replied regretfully, " I donot know. I know of coral only that is thehard calcareous skeleton of the marine crelen-terate polyps ; and that this red coral iss calledof a sclerobasic group ; and other facts of thekind ; but I do not know if it iss supposed toresist impact and heat. Possibly," he endedshrewdly, " it is the common imitation whichdoes not resist impact and heat. At any ratethey are pretty. How much ? " he demandedof the vendor, a bright-eyed Egyptian wait-ing patiently until our conference shouldcease." Twenty shillings," he replied promptly.


33/481

PORT SAID. 29The professor shook with one of his cavernouschuckles." Too much," he observed, and handed the

necklace back through the window.The Egyptian would by no means receiveit." Keep ! keep ! " he implored, thrusting themass of red upon the professor with bothhands. " How much you give ? "" One shilling," announced the professor firmly.The coral necklace lay on the edge of thetable throughout most of our leisurely meal. Thevendor argued, pleaded, gave it up, disappearedin the crowd, returned dramatically after aninterval. The professor ate calmly, chuckledmuch, and from time to time repeated firmlythe words, " One shilling." Finally, at thecheese, he reached out, swept the coral into hispocket, and laid down two shillings. The Egyp-tian deftly gathered the coin, smiled cheerfully,and produced a glittering veil, in which he triedin vain to enlist Billy's interest.For coffee and cigars we moved to the ter-race outside. Here an orchestra played, thepeoples of many nations sat at little tables, thepeddlers, fakirs, jugglers, and fortune-tellersswarmed. A half-dozen postal cards seemed


34/481

SO AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.sufficient to set a small boy up in trade, andto imbue him with all the importance and in-sistence of a merchant with jewels. Other ten-year-old ragamuffins tried to call our attentionto some sort of sleight-of-hand with poor downylittle chickens. Grave, turbaned, and polite In-dians squatted cross-legged at our feet, beggingto give us a look into the future by means of theonly genuine hall-marked Yogi-ism ; a troupe ofacrobats went energetically and hopefully throughquite a meritorious performance a few feet away ;a deftly triumphant juggler did very easily, anddirectly beneath our watchful eyes, some reallywonderful tricks. A butterfly-gorgeous swarmof insinuating smiling peddlers of small thingsdangled and spread their wares where theythought themselves most sure of attention.Beyond our own little group we saw slowly pass-ing in the lighted street outside the portico thevariegated and picturesque loungers. Across theway a phonograph bawled ; our stringed or-chestra played " The Dollar Princess ; " fromsomewhere over in the dark and mysterious alley-ways came the regular beating of a tom-tom.The magnificent and picturesque town car withits gaudy ragamuffins swayed by in train of itsdiminutive mule.


35/481

PORT SAID. 31Suddenly our persistent and amusing en-

tourage vanished in all directions. Standingidly at the portico was a very straight, blackSoudanese. On his head was the usual red fez ;his clothing was of trim khaki ; his knees andfeet were bare, with blue puttees between ;and around his middle was drawn close andsmooth a blood-red sash at least a foot and ahalf in breadth. He made a fine upstandingEgyptian figure, and was armed with pride, ashort sheathed club, and a great scorn. No wordspoke he, nor command ; but merely jerked athumb towards the darkness, and into the dark-ness our many-hued horde melted away. Wewere left feeling rather lonesome !Near midnight we sauntered down the streetto the quay, whence we were rowed to the shipby another turbaned, long-robed figure, whosweetly begged just a copper or so " for poorboatman."We found the ship in the process of coaling,every porthole and doorway closed, and heavycanvas hung to protect as far as possible theclean decks. Two barges were moored alongside.Two blazing braziers lighted them with weirdred and flickering flames. In their depths, castin black and red shadows, toiled half-guessed


36/481

32 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.figures ; from their depths, mounting a singlesteep plank, came an unbroken procession ofnatives, naked save for a wisp of cloth aroundthe loins. They trod closely on each other'sheels, carrying each his basket atop his heador on one shoulder, mounted a gang-plank,discharged their loads into the side of the ship,and descended again to the depths by way ofanother plank. The lights flickered across theirdark faces, their gleaming teeth and eyes. Some-how the work demanded a heap of screeching,shouting, and gesticulation ; but somehow alsoit went forward rapidly. Dozens of unattachednatives lounged about the gunwales with appar-ently nothing to do but to look picturesque.Shore boats moved into the narrow circle oflight, drifted to our gangway, and dischargedhuge crates of vegetables, sacks of unknownstuffs, and returning passengers. A vigilantpolice boat hovered near to settle disputes,generally with the blade of an oar. For a longtime we leaned over the rail watching them,and the various reflected lights in the water,and the very clear, unwavering stars. Then, thecoaling finished, and the portholes once moreopened, we turned in.


37/481

IV.SUEZ.

SOME time during the night we must havestarted, but so gently had we slid alongat fractional speed that until I raised my headand looked out I had not realized the fact. Isaw a high sandbank. This glided monotonouslyby until I grew tired of looking at it and gotup.

After breakfast, however, I found that thesandbank had various attractions ah of its own.Three camels laden with stone and in convoy ofwhite-clad figures shuffled down the slope at apicturesque angle. Two cowled women in black,veiled to the eyes in gauze heavily sewn withsequins, barefooted, with massive silver anklets,watched us pass. Hindu workmen in turbanand loin-cloth furnished a picturesque note, butdid not seem to be injuring themselves by over-exertion. Naked small boys raced us for a2


38/481

84 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.short distance. The banks glided by veryslowly and very evenly, the wash sucked afterus like water in a slough after a duck boat, andthe sky above the yellow sand looked extremelyblue.At short and regular intervals, half-way upthe miniature sandhills, heavy piles or snubbing-

posts had been planted. For these we at firstcould guess no reason. Soon, however, we hadto pass another ship ; and then we saw thatone of us must tie up to avoid being drawn irre-sistibly by suction into collision with the other.The craft sidled by, separated by only a fewfeet, so that we could look across to eachother's decks and exchange greetings. As theday grew this interest grew likewise. Dredgersin the canal ; rusty tramps flying unfamiliarflags of strange tiny countries ; big freighters,often with Greek or Turkish characters on theirsterns ; small dirty steamers of suspicious busi-ness ; passenger ships like our own, returningfrom the tropics, with white-clad, languid figuresreclining in canvas chairs ; gunboats of this orthat nation bound on mysterious affairs ; oncea P. & 0. converted into a troopship, from whoseevery available porthole, hatch, deck, and shroudlaughing, brown, English faces shouted chaff at


39/481

SUEZ. 35our German decks all these either tied up forus, or were tied up for by us. The only craftthat received no consideration on our part werethe various picturesque Arab dhows, with theirsingle masts and the long yards slanting acrossthem. Since these were very small, our suctiondragged at them cruelly. As a usual thing fourvociferous figures clung desperately to a ropepassed around one of the snubbing-posts ashore,while an old man shrieked syllables at themfrom the dhow itself. As they never by anychance thought of mooring her both stem andstern, the dhow generally changed ends rapidly,shipping considerable water in the process. Itmust be very trying to get so excited in a hotclimate.The high sandbanks of the early part of the

day soon dropped lower to afford us a widerview. In its broad, general features the countrywas, quite simply, the desert of Arizona overagain. There were the same high, distant, andbrittle-looking mountains, fragile and pearly ;the same low, broken half-distances ; the samewide sweeps ; the same wonderful changingeffects of light, colour, shadow, and mirage ; thesame occasional strips of green marking thewater-courses and oases. As to smaller detail,


40/481

36 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.we saw many interesting divergences. In theforeground constantly recurred the Bedouinbrush shelters, each with its picturesque figureor so in flowing robes, and its grumpy camels.Twice we saw travelling caravans, exactly likethe Bible pictures. At one place a single bur-noused Arab, leaning on his elbows, reclined fulllength on the sky-line of a clean-cut sandhill.Glittering in the mirage, half-guessed, half-seen,we made out distant little white towns withslender palm trees. At places the water fromthe canal had overflowed wide tracts of country.Here, along the shore, we saw thousands of thewater-fowl already familiar to us, as well assuch strangers as gaudy kingfishers, ibises, androsy flamingoes.The canal itself seemed to be in a continualstate of repair. Dredgers were everywhere ; someof the ordinary shovel type, others working bysuction, and discharging far inland by means ofweird huge pipes that apparently meandered atwill over the face of nature. The control sta-tions were beautifully French and neat, paintedyellow, each with its gorgeous bougainvilleas inflower, its square-rigged signal masts, its brightlypainted extra buoys standing in a row, its wharfand its impassive Arab fishermen thereon. We


41/481

SUEZ. 37reclined in our canvas chairs, had lemon squashesbrought to us, and watched the entertainmentsteadily and slowly unrolled before us.We reached the end of the canal about threeo'clock of the afternoon, and dropped anchor offthe low-lying shores. Our binoculars showed uswhite houses in apparently single rank along afar-reaching narrow sand spit, with sparse treesand a railroad line. That was the town of Suez,and seemed so little interesting that we werenot particularly sorry that we could not go ashore.Far in the distance were mountains ; and thewater all about us was the light, clear green ofthe sky at sunset.Innumerable dhows and row-boats swarmeddown, filled with eager salesmen of curios andostrich plumes. They had not much time inwhich to bargain, so they made it up in rapid-fire vociferation. One very tall and dignifiedArab had as sailor of his craft the most extraor-dinary creature, just above the lower limit ofthe human race. He was of a dull coal black,without a single high light on him anywhere, asthough he had been sand-papered, had prominentteeth, like those of a baboon, in a wrinkled,wizenedmonkey face, across which were three tattooedbands, and possessed a little, long-armed, spare


42/481

38 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.figure, bent and wiry. He clambered up anddown his mast, fetching things at his master'sbehest ; leapt nonchalantly for our rail or his ownspar, as the case might be, across the staggeringabyss ; clung so well with his toes that he mightalmost have been classified with the quadrum-ana; and between times squatted humped over onthe rail, watching us with bright, elfish, alien eyes.At last the big German sailors bundled thewhole variegated horde overside. It was timeto go, and our anchor chain was already rum-bling in the hawse pipes. They tumbled hastilyinto their boats ; and at once swarmed up theirmasts, whence they feverishly continued their in-terrupted bargaining. In fact, so fully embarkedon the tides of commerce were they, that theyfailed to notice the tides of nature widening be-tween us. One old man, in especial, at the verytop of his mast, jerked hither and thither by thesea, continued imploringly to offer an utterlyridiculous carved wooden camel long after itwas impossible to have completed the trans-action should anybody have been moonstruckenough to have desired it. Our ship's prowswung ; and just at sunset, as the lights ofSuez were twinkling out one by one, we headeddown the Red Sea.


43/481

V.THE RED SEA.

SUEZ is indeed the gateway to the East, Inthe Mediterranean often the sea is rough,the winds cold, passengers are not yet acquainted,and hug the saloons or the leeward side of thedeck. Once through the canal and all is changedby magic. The air is hot and languid ; theship's company down to the very scullions ap-pear in immaculate white ; the saloon chairsand transoms even are put in white coverings ;electric fans hum everywhere ; the run on lemonsquashes begins ; and many quaint and curiouscustoms of the tropics obtain.For example : it is etiquette that beforeeight o'clock one may wander the decks at willin one's pyjamas, converse affably with fairladies in

pigtailand kimono, and be not abashed.But on the stroke of eight bells it is also eti-

quette to disappear very promptly and to array


44/481

40 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.one's self for the day ; and it is very improperindeed to see or be seen after that hour in therather extreme negligte of the early morning.Also it becomes the universal custom, or perhapsI should say the necessity, to slumber for anhour after the noon meal. Certainly sleep de-scending on the tropical traveller is armed witha bludgeon. Passengers, crew, steerage, " deck,"animal, and bird fall down then in an enchant-ment. I have often wondered who navigatesthe ship during that sacred hour, or, indeed, ifanybody navigates it at all. Perhaps that timeis sacred to the genii of the old East, who closeall prying mortal eyes, but in return lend aguiding hand to the most pressing of mortalaffairs. The deck of the ship is a curious sightbetween the hours of half-past one and three.The tropical siesta requires no couching of theform. You sit down in your chair, with a bookyou fade slowly into a deep, restful slumber.And yet it is a slumber wherein certain small

pleasant things persist from the world outside.You remain dimly conscious of the rhythmicthrobbing of the engines, of the beat of soft,warm air on your cheek.At three o'clock or thereabout you rise asgently back to life, and sit erect in your chair


45/481

THE RED SEA. 41without a stretch or a yawn in your whole anat-omy. Then is the one time of day for a display ofenergy if you have any to display. Ship games,walks fairly brisk explorations to the fore-castle, a watch for flying fish or Arab dhows,anything until tea-time. Then the glowing sun-set ; the opalescent sea, and the soft afterglowof the sky and the bugle summoning you to dress.That is a mean job. Nothing could possiblyswelter worse than the tiny cabin. The electricfan is an aggravation. You reappear in yourfresh " whites " somewhat warm and flusteredin both mind and body. A turn around thedeck cools you off ; and dinner restores yourequanimity dinner with the soft, warm tropicair breathing through all the wide-open ports ;the electric fans drumming busily ; the men all inclean white ; the ladies, the very few preciousladies, in soft, low gowns. After dinner thedeck, as near cool as it will be, and heads bare tothe breeze of our progress, and glowing cigars.At ten or eleven o'clock the groups begin tobreak up, the canvas chairs to empty. Soonreappears a pyjamaed figure followed by a stew-ard carrying a mattress. This is spread, underits owner's direction, in a dark corner forward.With a sigh you in your turn plunge down into


46/481

42 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.the sweltering inferno of your cabin, only toreappear likewise with a steward and a mattress.The latter, if you are wise, you spread wherethe wind of the ship's going will be full uponyou. It is a strong wind and blows upon youheavily, so that the sleeves and legs of yourpyjamas flop, but it is a soft, warm wind, andbeats you as with muffled fingers. In no tem-perate clime can you ever enjoy this peculiareffect of a strong breeze on your naked skinwithout even the faintest surface chilly sensation.So habituated has one become to feeling coolerin a draught that the absence of chill lends thenight an unaccustomedness, the more weird inthat it is unanalyzed, so that one feels definitelythat one is in a strange, far country. This isintensified by the fact that in these latitudes themoon, the great, glorious, calm tropical moon,is directly overhead follows the centre line of thezenith instead of being, as with us in our tem-perate zone, always more or less declined to thehorizon. This, too, lends the night an exoticquality, the more effective in that at first thereason for it is not apprehended.A night in the tropics is always more or lessbroken. One awakens, and sleeps again. Motion-less white-clad figures, cigarettes glowing, are


47/481

THE RED SEA. 43lounging against the rail looking out over amolten sea. The moonlight lies in patternsacross the deck, shivering slightly under thethrob of the engines, or occasionally swayingslowly forward or slowly back as the ship'scourse changes, but otherwise motionless, forhere the sea is always calm. You raise yourhead, look about, sprawl in a new position onyour mattress, fall asleep. On one of theseoccasions you find unexpectedly that the velvet-gray night has become steel-gray dawn, andthat the kindly old quarter-master is bendingover you. Sleepily, very sleepily, you staggerto your feet and collapse into the nearest chair.Then to the swish of water, as the sailors sluicethe decks all around and under you, you fallinto a really deep sleep.At six o'clock this is broken by chota-hazri,another tropical institution, consisting merely of

clear tea and biscuits. I never could get tocare for it, but nowhere in the tropics could Ihead it off. No matter how tired I was or howdead sleepy, I had to receive that confoundedchota-hazri. Throwing things at the nativewho brought it did no good at all. He merelydodged. Admonition did no good, nor prohi-bition in strong terms. I was but one white


48/481

44 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.man of the whole white race ; and I had noright to possess idiosyncrasies running counterto dastur, the custom. However, as the earlyhours are profitable hours in the tropics, it didnot drive me to homicide.The ship's company now developed. Our two

prize members, fortunately for us, sat at ourtable. The first was the Swedish professoraforementioned. He was large, benign, pater-nal, broad in mind, thoroughly human and be-loved, and yet profoundly erudite. He was ouriconoclast in the way of food ; for he performedsmall but illuminating dissections on his plate,and announced triumphantly results that werenot a bit in accordance with the menu. A singlebone was sufficient to take the pretension outof any fish. Our other particular friend was C.,with whom later we travelled in the interior ofAfrica. C. is a very celebrated hunter and ex-plorer, an old Africander, his face seamed andtanned by many years in a hard climate. Forseveral days we did not recognize him, althoughhe sat fairly alongside, but put him down as ashy man, and let it go at that. He never stayedfor the long table d'hote dinners, but fell uponthe first solid course and made a complete mealfrom that. When he had quite finished eating


49/481

THE RED SEA. 45all he could, he drank all he could ; then hedeparted from the table, and took up a remoteand inaccessible position in the corner of thesmoking-room. He was engaged in growing thebeard he customarily wore in the jungle a mostfierce outstanding Mohammedan-looking beardthat terrified the intrusive into submission.And yet Bwana C. possesses the kindest blueeyes in the world, full of quiet patience, greatunderstanding, and infinite gentleness. His man-ner was abrupt and uncompromising, but hewould do anything in the world for one whostood in need of him. From women he fled ;yet Billy won him with infinite patience, and inthe event they became the closest of friends.Withal he possessed a pair of the most powerfulshoulders I have ever seen on a man of hisframe ; and in the depths of his mild blue eyesflickered a flame of resolution that I could wellimagine flaring up to something formidable.Slow to make friends, but staunch and loyal ;gentle and forbearing, but fierce and implacablein action ; at once loved and most terriblyfeared ; shy as a wild animal, but straightforwardand undeviating in his human relations ; mostremarkably quiet and unassuming, but with tre-mendous vital force in his deep eyes and forward-


50/481

46 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.thrust jaw ; informed with the widest and mostunderstanding humanity, but unforgiving ofevildoers ; and with the most direct and abso-lute courage, Bwana C. was to me the most in-teresting man I met in Africa, and became thebest of my friends.The only other man at our table happened tobe, for our sins, the young Englishman mentionedas throwing the first coin to the old woman onthe pier at Marseilles. We will call him Brown,and, because he represents a type, he is worthlooking upon for a moment.He was of the super-enthusiastic sort ; bub-bling over with vitality, in and out of everything ;bounding up at odd and languid moments. Toan extraordinary extent he was afflicted with thespiritual blindness of his class. Quite genuinely,quite seriously, he was unconscious of the humansignificance of beings and institutions belongingto a foreign country or even to a class otherthan his own. His own kind he treated as com-plete and understandable human creatures. Allothers were merely objective. As we, to a cer-tain extent, happened to fall in the former cate-gory, he was as pleasant to us as possiblethat is, he was pleasant to us in his way, buthad not insight enough to guess at how to be


51/481

THE RED SEA. 47pleasant to us in our way. But as soon as he gotout of his own class, or what he conceived to besuch, he considered all people as " outsiders." Hedid not credit them with prejudices to rub, withfeelings to hurt, indeed hardly with ears to over-hear. Provided his subject was an " outsider,"he had not the slightest hesitancy in saying ex-actly what he thought about any one, anywhere,always in his high clear English voice, no matterwhat the time or occasion. As a natural corol-lary he always rebuffed beggars and the likebrutally, and was always quite sublimely doinglittle things that thoroughly shocked our senseof the other fellow's rights as a human being. Inall this he did not mean to be cruel or inconsid-erate. It was just the way he was built ; andit never entered his head that

"such people

"had ears and brains.

In the rest of the ship's company were a dozenor so other Englishmen of the upper classes,either army men on shooting trips, or youthsgoing out with some idea of settling in the coun-try. They were a clean-built, pleasant lot ; goodpeople to know anywhere, but of no unusualinterest. It was only when one went abroadinto the other nations that inscribable humaninterest could be found.


52/481


53/481

THE RED SEA. 49Also in this group was a small wiry Germandoctor, who had lived for many years in the far

interior of Africa, and was now returning afterhis vacation. He was a little man, bright-eyedand keen, with a clear complexion and hard flesh,in striking and agreeable contrast to most of hiscompatriots. The latter were trying to drink allthe beer on the ship ; but as she had been stockedfor an eighty-day voyage, of which this was butthe second week, they were not making notice-able headway. However, they did not seem tobe easily discouraged. The Herr Doktor wasmost polite and attentive, but as we did nottalk German nor much Swahili, and he hadneither English nor much French, we had ourdifficulties. I have heard Billy in talking tohim scatter fragments of these four languagesthrough a single sentence !For several days we drifted down a warm flatsea. Then one morning we came on deck to findourselves close aboard a number of volcanicislands. They were composed entirely of redand dark purple lava blocks, rugged, quitewithout vegetation save for occasional patchesof stringy green in a gully ; and uninhabitedexcept for a lighthouse on one, and a fishingshanty near the shores of another. The high


54/481

50 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.mournful mountains, with their dark shadows,seemed to brood over hot desolation. Therusted and battered stern of a wrecked steamerstuck up at an acute angle from the surges.Shortly after we picked up the shores of Arabia.Note the advantages of a half ignorance.From early childhood we had thought of Arabiaas the " burning desert " flat, of course andof the Red Sea as bordered by " shifting sands "alone. If we had known the truth if we hadnot been half ignorant we would have missedthe profound surprise of discovering that inreality the Red Sea is bordered by high andrugged mountains, leaving just space enoughbetween themselves and the shore for a slopingplain on which our glasses could make out occa-sional palms. Perhaps the " shifting sands ofthe burning desert " lie somewhere beyond ; butsomebody might have mentioned these greatmountains ! After examining them attentivelywe had to confess that if this sort of thing con-tinued farther north the children of Israel musthave had a very hard time of it. Mocha shonewhite, glittering, and low, with the red and whitespire of a mosque rising brilliantly above it.


55/481

VI.ADEN.

IT was cooler ; and for a change we hadturned into our bunks, when B. pounded onour stateroom door.

" In the name of the Eternal East," said he," come on deck ! "We slipped on kimonos, and joined the rowof scantily draped and interested figures alongthe rail.The ship lay quite still on a perfect sea ofmoonlight, bordered by a low flat distant shoreon one side, and nearer mountains on the other.A strong flare, centred from two ship reflectors

overside, made a focus of illumination that sub-dued, but could not quench, the soft moonlightwith which all outside was silvered. A dozenboats, striving against a current or clinging asbest they could to the ship's side, glided intothe light and became real and solid ; or dropped


56/481

52 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.back into the ghostly white unsubstantialityof the moon. They were long, narrow boats,with small flush decks fore and aft. We lookeddown on them from almost directly above, sothat we saw the thwarts and the ribs and thethings they contained.

Astern in each stood men, bending gracefullyagainst the thrust of long sweeps. About theirwaists were squares of cloth, wrapped twice andtucked in. Otherwise they were naked, and thelong smooth muscles of their slender bodiesrippled under the skin. The latter was of abeautiful fine texture, and chocolate brown.These men had keen, intelligent, clear-cut faces,of the Greek order, as though the statues of agarden had been stained brown and had cometo life. They leaned on their sweeps, thrust-ing slowly but strongly against the little windand current that would drift them back.

In the body of the boats crouched, sat, or lay apicturesque mob. Some pulled spasmodically onthe very long Umber oars ; others squatted do-ing nothing ; some, huddled shapelessly under-neath white cloths that completely covered them,slept soundly in the bottom. We took these formerchandise until one of them suddenly threwaside his covering and sat up. Others, again,


57/481

ADEN. 53poised in proud and graceful attitudes on theextreme

prowsof their

bobbingcraft.

Espe-cially decorative were two, clad only in immensewhite turbans and white cloths about the waist.An old Arab with a white beard stood midshipsin one boat, quite motionless, except for the slightswaying necessary to preserve his equilibrium,his voluminous white draperies fluttering in thewind, his dark face just distinguishable underhis burnouse. Most of the men were Somalis,however. Their keen small faces, slender butgraceful necks, slim, well-formed torsos bendingto every movement of the boat, and the white orgaudy draped nether garments were as decora-tive as the figures on an Egyptian tomb. Oneor two of the more barbaric had made neat head-dresses of white clay plastered in the form of askull-cap.

After an interval a small and fussy tugboatsteamed around our stern and drew alongsidethe gangway. Three passengers disembarkedfrom her and made their way aboard. The maindeck of the craft under an awning was heavilyencumbered with trunks, tin boxes, hand bag-gage, tin bath-tubs, gun cases, and all sorts ofimpedimenta. The tugboat moored itself to usfore and aft, and proceeded to think about dis-


58/481

54 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.charging. Perhaps twenty men in accurate replicaof those in the small boats had charge of thejob. They had their own methods. After a longinterval devoted strictly to nothing, some un-fathomable impulse would incite one or two orthree of the natives to tackle a trunk. At itthey tugged and heaved and pushed in themanner of ants making off with a particularlylarge fly or other treasure trove, tossing it upthe steep gangway to the level of our decks. Thetrunks once safely bestowed, all interest, all in-dustry, died. We thought that finished it, andwondered why the tug did not pull out of theway. But always, after an interval, anotherbright idea would strike another native or natives.He or they would disappear beneath the can-vas awning over the tug's deck, to emergeshortly, carrying almost anything, from a par-asol to a heavy chest.On close inspection they proved to be a verysmall people. The impression of graceful heighthad come from the slenderness and justness oftheir proportions, the smalhiess of their bones,and the upright grace of their carriage. Afterstanding alongside one, we acquired a fine re-spect for their ability to handle those trunksat all.


59/481

ADEN. 55Moored to the other side of the ship we found

two huge lighters, from which bales of goodswere being hoisted aboard. Two camels and adozen diminutive mules stood in the waist of oneof these craft. The camels were as sniffy andsupercilious and scornful as camels always are ;and everybody promptly hated them with thehatred of the abysmally inferior spirit for some-thing that scorns it, as is the usual attitude of thehuman mind towards camels. We waited forupwards of an hour, in the hope of seeing thosecamels hoisted aboard ; but in vain. Whilewe were so waiting one of the deck passengersbelow us, a Somali in white clothes and a gor-geous cerise turban, decided to turn in. Hespread a square of thin matting atop one of thehatches, and began to unwind yards and yards ofthe fine silk turban. He came to the end of itwhisk ! he sank to the deck ; the turban, spreadopen by the resistance of the air, fluttered downto cover him from head to foot. Apparently hefell asleep at once, for he did not again move noralter his position. He, as well as an astonish-ingly large proportion of the other Somalis andAbyssinians we saw, carried a queer, well-de-fined, triangular wound in his head. It had longsince healed, was an inch or so across, and looked


60/481

56 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.as though a piece of the

skull had been removed.If a conscientious enemy had leisure and an ice-pick he would do just about that sort of a job.How its recipient had escaped instant death isa mystery.At length, about three o'clock, despairing ofthe camels, we turned in.After three hours' sleep we were again ondeck. Aden by daylight seemed to be severalsections of a town tucked into pockets in bold,raw, lava mountains that came down fairly tothe water's edge. Between these pockets ran anarrow shore road ; and along the road pacedhaughty camels hitched to diminutive carts. Oncontracted round bluffs towards the sea werevarious low bungalow buildings which, we wereinformed, comprised the military and civil offi-cers' quarters. The real Aden has been builtinland a short distance at the bottom of a cupin the mountains. Elaborate stone reservoirshave been constructed to catch rain water, asthere is no other natural water supply whatever.The only difficulty is that it practically neverrains ; so the reservoirs stand empty, the wateris distilled from the sea, and the haughty camelsand the little carts do the distributing.The lava mountains occupy one side of the


61/481

We waited patiently to see the camels slung aboardby the crane.


62/481


63/481

ADEN. 57spacious bay or gulf. The foot of the bay andthe other side are flat, with one or two verydistant white villages, and many heaps of glitter-ing salt as big as houses.We waited patiently at the rail for an hourmore to see the camels slung aboard by thecrane. It was worth the wait. They lost theirimpassive and immemorial dignity completely,sprawling, groaning, positively shrieking in dis-may. When the solid deck rose to them, andthe sling had been loosened, however, they re-gained their poise instantaneously. Their noseswent up in the air, and they looked about themwith a challenging, unsmiling superiority, asthough to dare any one of us to laugh. Theirnative attendants immediately squatted down infront of them, and began to feed them with con-venient lengths of what looked like our commonmarsh cat-tails. The camels did not even thenmanifest the slightest interest in the proceedings.Indeed, they would not condescend to reach outthree inches for the most luscious tit-bit heldthat far from their aristocratic noses. The attend-ants had actually to thrust the fodder betweentheir jaws. I am glad to say they condescendedto chew.


64/481

VII.

THE INDIAN OCEAN.E~1AVING Aden, and rounding the great prom-ontory of Cape Guardafui, we turned southalong the coast of Africa. Off the cape werestrange, oily cross rips and currents on the sur-face of the sea ; the flying-fish rose in flocksbefore our bows ; high mountains of peaks andflat table tops thrust their summits into clouds ;and along the coast the breakers spouted likewhales. For the first time, too, we began to ex-perience what our preconceptions had imaginedas tropical heat. Heretofore we had been hotenough, in all conscience, but the air had felt asthough wafted from an opened furnace door-dry and scorching. Now, although the tem-perature was lower,* the humidity was greater.A swooning languor was abroad over the spell-bound ocean, a relaxing mist of enchantment.

' 82-88 in daytime, and 75-83 at night.


65/481

THE INDIAN OCEAN. 59My glasses were constantly clouding over with afine coating of water drops ; exposed metal rustedovernight ; the folds in garments accumulatedmildew in an astonishingly brief period of time.There was never even the suggestion of chill inthis dampness. It clung and enveloped like agrateful garment ; and seemed only to lacksweet perfume.At this time, by good fortune, it happenedthat the moon came full. We had enjoyed itswaxing during our voyage down the Red Sea ;but now it had reached its greatest phase, andhung over the slumbering tropic ocean like alantern. The lazy sea stirred beneath it, and theship glided on, its lights fairly subdued by thesplendour of the waters. Under the awnings theship's company lounged in lazy attitudes or prom-enaded slowly, talking low voiced, cigars glowingin the splendid dusk. Overside, in the furrowof the disturbed waters, the phosphorescenceflashed perpetually beneath the shadow of theship.The days passed by languidly and all alike.On the chart outside the smoking-room door theprocession of tiny German flags on pins marchedsteadily, an inch at a time, towards the south.Otherwise we might as well have imagined our-


66/481

60 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.selves midgets afloat in a pond and getting no-where.Somewhere north of the equator before Father

Neptune in ancient style had come aboard andducked the lot of us we were treated to thespectacle of how the German " sheep " reactsunder a joke. Each nation has its type of fool ;and all, for the joyousness of mankind, differ.On the bulletin board one evening appeared anotice to the effect that the following morning alimited number of sportsmen would be permittedashore for the day. Each was advised to bringhis own lunch, rifle, and drinks. The reasonalleged was that the ship must round a certaincape across which the sportsmen could marchafoot in sufficient time to permit them a littleshooting.Now aboard ship were a dozen English, fourAmericans, and thirty or forty Germans. TheAmericans and English looked upon that bulletin,

smiled gently, and went to order another round oflemon squashes. It was a meek, mild, little jokeenough ; but surely the bulletin board was as faras it could possibly go. Next morning, however,we observed a half-dozen of our German friendsin khaki and sun helmet, very busy with lunchboxes, bottles of beer, rifles, and the like. They


67/481

THE INDIAN OCEAN. 61said they were going ashore as per bulletin. Welooked at each other and hied us to the upperdeck. There we found one of the boats slungoverside, with our old friend the quartermasterostentatiously stowing kegs of water, boxes, andthe like." When," we inquired gently, " does the expe-dition start ? "" At ten o'clock," said he.

It was now within fifteen minutes of that hour.We were at the time fully ten miles off shore, andforging ahead full speed parallel with the coast.We pointed out this fact to the quartermaster,but found, to our sorrow, that the poor oldman had suddenly gone deaf ! We therefore re-

frained from asking several other questions thathad occurred to us such as, why the cape wasnot shown on the map.

" Somebody," said one of the Americans, acowboy going out second class on the look for newcattle country, " is a goat. It sure looks to melike it was these yere steamboat people. Theycan't expect to rope nothing on such a raw dealas this ! "To which the English assented, though in

different idiom.But now up the companion ladder struggled


68/481

62 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.eight serious-minded individuals herded by thesecond mate. They were armed to the teeth,and thoroughly equipped with things I had seenin German catalogues, but in whose existence Ihad never believed. A half-dozen sailors eagerlyhelped them with their multitudinous effects.Not a thought gave they to the fact that we wereten miles off the coast, that we gave no indicationof slackening speed, that it would take the restof the day to row ashore, that there was no capefor us to round, that if there were oh ! all theother hundred improbabilities peculiar to thesituation. Under direction of the mate theydeposited their impedimenta beneath a tarpaulin,and took their places in solemn rows amidshipsacross the thwarts of the boat slung overside.The importance of the occasion sat upon themheavily ; they were going ashore in Africa toSlay Wild Beasts. They looked upon themselvesas of bolder, sterner stuff than the rest of us.When the procession first appeared, our cow-boy's face for a single instant had flamed withamazed incredulity. Then a mask of expres-sionless stolidity fell across his features, whichin no line thereafter varied one iota." What are they going to do with them ? "murmured one of the Englishmen, at a loss.


69/481

THE INDIAN OCEAN. 63" I reckon," said the cowboy, " that they

look on this as the easiest way to drown themall to onct."Then from behind one of the other boats sud-

denly appeared a huge German sailor with a hose.The devoted imbeciles in the shore boat weredrenched as by a cloud-burst. Back and forthand up and down the heavy stream played, whileevery other human being about the ship shriekedwith joy. Did the victims rise up in a body andcapture that hose nozzle and turn the streamto sweep the decks ? Did they duck for shelter ?Did they at least know enough to scatter andrun ? They did none of these things ; but satthere in meek little rows like mannikins until theboat was half full of water and everything awash.Then, when the sailor shut off the stream, theycontinued to sit there until the mate came toorder them out. Why ? I cannot tell you.Perhaps that is the German idea of how to takea joke. Perhaps they were afraid worse thingsmight be consequent on resistance. Perhaps theystill hoped to go ashore. One of the Englishmenasked just that question." What," he demanded disgustedly, " what isthe matter with the beggars ? "Our cowboy may have had the correct solution.


70/481

64 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.He stretched his long legs and jumped down fromthe rail." Nothing stirring above the ears," said he.

It is customary in books of travel to describe thispart of the journey somewhat as follows : " Skirt-ing the low and uninteresting shores of Africa weat length reached," etc. Low and uninterestingshores ! Through the glasses we made out distantmountains far beyond nearer hills. The latterwere green-covered with dense forests whence rosemysterious smokes. Along the shore we saw anoccasional cocoanut plantation to the water'sedge and native huts and villages of thatch.Canoes of strange models lay drawn up onshelving beaches ; queer fish-pounds of brushreached out considerable distances from the coast.The white surf pounded on a yellow beach.

All about these things was the jungle, hem-ming in the plantations and villages, borderingthe lagoons, creeping down until it fairly over-hung the yellow beaches ; as though, conquerorthrough all the country beyond, it were half-inclined to dispute dominion with old Oceanhimself. It looked from the distance like athick, soft coverlet thrown down over thecountry ; following or, rather, suggesting theinequalities. Through the glasses we were occa-


71/481

THE INDIAN OCEAN. 65sionaUy able to peep under the edge of thiscoverlet, and see where the fringe of the jungledrew back in a little pocket, or to catch the sheenof mysterious dark rivers slipping to the sea.Up these dark rivers, by way of the entrances ofthese tiny pockets, the imagination then couldlead on into the dimness beneath the sunlit uppersurfaces.Towards the close of one afternoon we changedour course slightly, and swung in on a long slant

towards the coast. We did it casually ; too casu-ally for so very important an action, for now atlast we were about to touch the mysterious con-tinent. Then we saw clearer the fine, big grovesof palm and the luxuriance of the tropical vege-tation. Against the greenery, bold and white,shone the buildings of Mombasa ; and after alittle while we saw an inland glitter thatrepresented her narrow, deep bay, the stern of awreck against the low, green cliffs, and strange,fat-trunked squat trees without leaves. Straightpast all this we glided at half speed, then turnedsharp to the right to enter a long wide expanselike a river, with green banks, twenty feet or so inheight, grown thickly with the tall cocoanut palms.These gave way at times into broad, low lagoons,at the end of which were small beaches and boats,

3


72/481

66 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.and native huts among more cocoanut groves.Through our glasses we could see the black menwatching us, quite motionless, squatted on theirheels.

It was like suddenly entering another world,this gliding from the open sea straight into theheart of a green land. The ceaseless wash ofwaves we had left outside with the ocean ; ourengines had fallen silent. Across the hushedwaters came to us strange chantings and thebeating of a tom-tom, an occasional shrill shoutfrom the unknown jungle. The sun was just set,and the tops of the palms caught the last rays ;all below was dense green shadow. Across thesurface of the water glided dug-out canoes ofshapes strange to us. We passed ancient ruinsalmost completely dismantled, their stones halfsmothered in green rank growth. The wideriver-like bay stretched on before us as far asthe waning light permitted us to see ; finallylosing itself in the heart of mystery.

Steadily and confidently our ship steamed for-ward, until at last, when we seemed to be afloatin a land-locked lake, we dropped anchor andcame to rest.

Darkness fell utterly before the usual quaran-tine regulations had been carried through. Active


73/481

THE INDIAN OCEAN. 67and efficient agents had already taken charge ofour affairs, so we had only to wait idly by therail until summoned. Then we jostled our waydown the long gangway, passed and repassed bynatives carrying baggage or returning for morebaggage, stepped briskly aboard a very bobbylittle craft, clambered over a huge pile of bag-gage, and stowed ourselves as best we could.A figure in a long white robe sat astern, tillerropes in hand; two half-naked blacks far up to-wards the prow manipulated a pair of tremendoussweeps. With a vast heaving, jabbering, andshouting, our boat disengaged itself from theswarm of other craft. We floated around thestern of our ship, and were immediately sus-pended in blackness dotted with the stars andtheir reflections, and with various twinklingscattered lights. To one of these we steered,and presently touched at a stone quay withsteps. At last we set foot on the land to whichso long we had journeyed and towards whichour expectations had grown so great. We ex-perienced " the pleasure that touches the soulsof men landing on strange shores."


74/481

VIII.MOMBASA.

A SINGLE light shone at the end of thestone quay, and another inside a big in-determinate building at some distance. We stum-bled towards this, and found it to be the biggestshed ever constructed out of corrugated iron. Abearded Sikh stood on guard at its open entrance.He let any one and every one enter, with nevera flicker of his expressionless black eyes ; butallowed no one to go out again without theclosest scrutiny for dutiable articles that lackedthe blue customs plaster. We entered. Theplace was vast and barnlike and dim, and very,very hot. A half-dozen East Indians stood be-hind the counters ; another, a babu, sat at alittle desk ready to give his clerical attention towhat might be required. We saw no Euro-pean ; but next morning found that one passedhis daylight hours in this inferno of heat. For


75/481

MOMBASA. 69the moment we let our main baggage go, andoccupied ourselves only with getting through oursmaller effects. This accomplished, we steppedout past the Sikh into the grateful night.We had as guide a slender and wiry individualclad in tarboush and long white robe. In avague, general way we knew that the town ofMombasa was across the island and about fourmiles distant. In what direction or how wegot there we had not the remotest idea.The guide set off at a brisk pace with whichwe tried in vain to keep step. He knew theground, and we did not ; and the night wasblack dark. Commands to stop were of noavail whatever ; nor could we get hold of himto restrain him by force. When we put onspeed he put on speed too. His white robe glim-mered ahead of us just in sight ; and in thedarkness other white robes, passing and crossing,glimmered also. At first the ground was rough,so that we stumbled outrageously. Billy andB. soon fell behind, and I heard their voicescalling plaintively for us to slow down a bit.

" If I ever lose this nigger, I'll never find himagain," I shouted back, " but I can find you.Do the best you can ! "We struck a smoother road that led up a hill


76/481

70 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.on a long slant. Apparently for miles we fol-lowed thus, the white-robed individual aheadstill deaf to ail commands and the blood-curdlingthreats I had now come to uttering. All ourpersonal baggage had long since mysteriouslydisappeared, ravished away from us at thecustoms house by a ragged horde of blacks. Itbegan to look as though we were stranded inAfrica without baggage or effects. Billy and B.were all the time growing fainter in the distance,though evidently they too had struck the long,slanting road.Then we came to a dim, solitary lantern glow-ing feebly beside a bench at what appeared tobe the top of the hill. Here our guide at lastcame to a halt and turned to me a grinning face." Samama hapa," he observed.There ! That was the word I had been fran-tically searching my memory for ! Samamastop !The others struggled in. We were very warm.Up to the bench led a tiny car track, the railsnot over two feet apart, like the toy railroadschildren use. This did not look much like grown-up transportation, but it and the bench and thedim lantern represented all the visible world.We sat philosophically on the bench and


77/481

MOMBASA. 71enjoyed the soft tropical night. The air wastepid, heavy with unknown perfume, black as aband of velvet across the eyes, musical with thesubdued undertones of a thousand thousand nightinsects. At points overhead the soft blind dark-ness melted imperceptibly into stars.

After a long interval we distinguished a dis-tant faint rattling, that each moment increasedin loudness. Shortly came into view along thenarrow tracks a most extraordinary vehicle.It was a small square platform on wheels, acrosswhich ran a bench seat, and over which spreada canopy. It carried also a dim lantern. Thisrumbled up to us and stopped. From its sternhopped two black boys. Obeying a smilinginvitation, we took our places on the bench.The two boys immediately set to pushing us alongthe narrow track.We were off at an astonishing speed throughthe darkness. The night was deliciously tepid ;and, as I have said, absolutely dark. We madeout the tops of palms and the dim loom of greatspreading trees, and could smell sweet, softodours. The bare-headed, lightly-clad boys pat-tered alongside whenever the grade was easy, onehand resting against the rail ; or pushed mightilyup little hills ; or clung alongside like monkeys


78/481

72 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.while we rattled and swooped and plungeddown hill into the darkness. Subsequently welearned that a huge flat beam projecting amid-ships from beneath the seat operated a brakewhich we above were supposed to manipulate ;but being quite ignorant as to the ethics andmechanics of this strange street-car system, weswung and swayed at times quite breathlessly.

After about fifteen minutes we began to pickup lights ahead, then to pass dimly-seen gardenwalls with trees whose brilliant flowers the lan-tern revealed fitfully. At last we made out whitestucco houses, and shortly drew up with aflourish before the hotel itself.

This was a two-story stucco affair, with deepverandas sunken in at each story. It fronted awide white street facing a public garden ; andthis, we subsequently discovered, was about theonly clear and open space in all the narrow town.Antelope horns were everywhere hung on thewalls ; and teakwood easy-chairs, with rests onwhich comfortably to elevate your feet aboveyour head, stood all about. We entered a bare,brick-floored dining-room, and partook of tropicalfruits quite new to us papayes, mangoes, cus-tard apples, pawpaws, and the small red eatingbananas too delicate for export. Overhead the


79/481

Vasco da Gama Street, the principal thoroughfare of Mombasa.

L:,The trolley car of Mombasa.


80/481


81/481

MOMBASA. 73punkahs swung back and forth in lazy hypnoticrhythm. We could see the two blacks at the endsof the punkah cords outside on the veranda,their bodies swaying lithely in alternation asthey threw their weight against the light ropes.Other blacks, in the long white robes and ex-quisitely worked white skull caps of the Swahili,glided noiselessly on bare feet, serving.

After dinner we sat out until midnight in theteakwood chairs of the upper gallery, staringthrough the arches into the black, mysteriousnight, for it was very hot, and we rather dreadedthe necessary mosquito veils as likely to provestuffy. The mosquitoes are few in Mombasa, butthey are very deadly very. At midnight thethermometer stood 87 F.Our premonitions as to stuffiness were well

justified. After a restless night we came awakeat daylight to the sound of a fine row of somesort going on outside in the streets. Immediatelywe arose, threw aside the lattices, and hung outover the sill.The chalk-white road stretched before us.

Opposite was a public square, grown with bril-liant flowers, and flowering trees. We could notdoubt the cause of the trouble. An Indian ona bicycle, hurrying to his office, had knocked3a


82/481

74 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.down a native child. Said child, quite naked,sat in the middle of the white dust and howledto rend the heavens whenever he felt himselfobserved. If, however, the attention of thecrowd happened for the moment to be engrossedwith the babu, the injured one sat up straightand watched the row with interested, rolling,pickaninny eyes. A native policeman made thecentre of a whirling, vociferating group. Hewas a fine-looking chap, straight and soldierly,dressed in red tarboosh, khaki coat bound closearound the waist by yards and yards of broad redwebbing, loose, short drawers of khaki, bare kneesand feet, and blue puttees between. His man-ner was inflexible. The babu jabbered excitedly ;telling, in all probability, how he was innocentof fault, was late for his work, etc. In vain.He had to go ; also the kid, who now, seeinghimself again an object of interest, recom-menced his howling. Then the babu beganfrantically to indicate members of the crowdwhom he desired to retain as witnesses. Evi-dently not pleased with the prospect of appear-ing in court, those indicated promptly duckedand ran. The policeman as promptly pursuedand collared them one by one. He was a long-legged policeman, and he ran well. The moment


83/481

MOMBASA. 75he laid hands on a fugitive, the latter collapsed ;whereupon the policeman dropped him and tookafter another. The joke of it was that the oneso abandoned did not try again to make off, butstayed as though he had been tagged at somegame. Finally the whole lot, still vociferating,moved off down the white road.For over an hour we hung from our window sill,

thoroughly interested and amused by the variedlife that deployed before our eyes. The morningseemed deliciously cool after the hot night, al-though the thermometer stood high. The sky wasvery blue, with big piled white clouds down nearthe horizon. Dazzling sun shone on the whiteroad, the white buildings visible up and down thestreet, the white walls enclosing their gardens, andthe greenery and colours of the trees within them.For from what we could see from our window weimmediately voted tropical vegetation quite upto advertisement: whole trees of gaudy red oryellow or bright orange blossoms, flowering vines,flowering shrubs, peered over the walls or throughthe fences; and behind them rose great mangoes orthe slenderer shafts of bananas and cocoanutpalms.Up and down wandered groups of various sortsof natives. A month later we would have beenable to identify their different tribes and to know


84/481

76 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.more about them ; but now we wondered at them,as strange and picturesque peoples. They im-pressed us in general as being a fine lot of men, forthey were of good physique, carried themselveswell, and looked about them with a certain dignityand independence, a fine free pride of carriage andof step. This fact alone differentiated them fromour own negroes ; but, further, their features werein general much finer, and their skins of a clearmahogany beautiful in its satiny texture. Mostand these were the blackest wore long whiterobes and fine openwork

skull caps. They werethe local race, the Swahili, had we but known it ;the original " Zanzibari " who furnished Living-stone, Stanley, Speke, and the other early explor-ers with their men. Others, however, were muchless " civilized." We saw one " Cook's tour fromthe jungle " consisting of six savages, their hairtwisted into innumerable points, their ear lobesstretched to hang fairly to their shoulders, wearingonly a rather neglectful blanket, adorned withpolished wire, carrying war clubs and brightspears. They followed, with eyes and mouthsopen, a very sophisticated-looking city cousinin the usual white garments, swinging ajaunty, light bamboo cane. The cane seemsto be a distinguishing mark of the leisured class.


85/481

MOMBASA. 77It not only means that you are not working,but also that you have no earthly desire to work.About this time one of the hotel boys broughtthe inevitable chota-hazri the tea and biscuitsof early morning. For this once it was verywelcome.Our hotel proved to be on the direct line offreighting. There are no horses or draught ani-

mals in Mombasa ; the fly is too deadly. There-fore all hauling is done by hand. The tiny tracksof the unique street car system run everywhereany one would wish to go ; branching off even intoprivate grounds and to the very front doors ofbungalows situated far out of town. Each residentowns his own street car, just as elsewhere a manhas his own carriage. There are, of course,public cars also, each with its pair of boys to pushit; and also a number of rather decrepit rickshaws.As a natural corollary to the passenger traffic, thefreighting also is handled by the blacks on largeflat trucks with short guiding poles. These menare quite naked save for a small loin cloth ; arebeautifully shaped ; and glisten all over withperspiration shining in the sun. So fine is thetexture of their skins, the softness of their colourso rippling the play of muscles that this shiningperspiration is tike a beautiful polish. They rush


86/481

78 AFRICAN CAMP FIRES.from behind, slowly and steadily, and patientlyand unwaveringly, the most tremendous loads ofthe heaviest stuffs. When the hill becomes toosteep for them, they turn their backs against thetruck ; and by placing one foot behind the other,a few inches at a time, they edge their burdenup the slope.The steering is done by one man at the pole ortongue in front. This individual also sets the keyto the song by which in Africa all heavy labour iscarried forward. He cries his wavering shrill-voiced chant ; the toilers utter antiphony in lowgruff tones. At a distance one hears only thewild high syncopated chanting ; but as the affairdraws slowly nearer, he catches the undertone ofthe responses. These latter are cast in the regularswing and rhythm of effort ; but the steersmanthrows in his bit at odd and irregular intervals.Thus:

Documents

African Camp Fires 1914