| British India Steam Navigation Company Ltd. |
Adventures in East Africa
Written by Engineer Robert Lyle, who served for 13 years with the British India Steam Navigation Co. and afterwards settled in Belfast.
Robert Lyle was born on 28 January 1867 in Paisley, Scotland and died about 1921 in Belfast, N. Ireland. It is not known when he joined BISN Co. It is believed that he contracted malaria while on one of his journeys and thereafter decided to leave BISN. While convalescing in The Isle of Man, he met and later married Matilda Craig. After assisting his father with the electrification of the J & P Coates Thread mill in Paisley, he and Matilda relocated to Belfast, Northern Ireland. They had two sons, Ronald (my father) and my uncle Arthur to whom I am indebted for preserving a copy of this document.
This document was written several years after his service with BISN and would appear to have been given as a talk before an audience.
Although the language used would not be considered “politically correct” in today’s environment, I have chosen to repeat the document exactly as written by my grandfather. I apologize if anyone is offended.
Alistair Lyle.
•••••••••••••••••••••••
On a wild, blustering night in December in the year 1888, I was one of a party of young Scotsmen who left St. Enoch's Station, Glasgow, on our way to London en route for the East.
Most of us had been out before and were returning, as we thought, to Calcutta or Bombay, where we had plenty of friends and plenty of interests awaiting us. We had all been enjoying a thorough good holiday in the old home land, among old, familiar scenes and faces, but now we were glad once more, with light hearts and still lighter pockets, to turn our faces towards the Southern Cross, all eager for fresh adventures and pastures new. There were eight of us - all Scotch - seven engineers and one a medical man, poor Dr. Charters, of whom I shall speak later on.
All eight were engaged in the service of the British India Steam Navigation Company, then, as now, one of the largest and most important steam boat companies in the world.
This company is the survivor of the celebrated East India Company, which was chartered by Queen Elizabeth for purposes of trading in the East in the year 1600, and which has played no small part in the foundation of our British Indian Empire. It was commonly called the 'Old John' company, but owing to mal-administration on its part it was dissolved after the Indian Mutiny, which it bore the blame of helping to bring about. It then resolved itself into a simple trading company; very wealthy, and almost entirely under Scotch management. Our company was at this time under the direction of the late Sir William Mackinnan, a man of great force of character and calculating powers. I have never met a man who impressed me more with the power of his abilities, and the depth of his wisdom. He was a canny Scot - but he was something more - a man capable of administration both for present and future times. The British India Company owe much to the energy and foresight of Sir William Mackinnan. By the way, it is his brother, Peter, who by his recent death, had enriched the FreeChurch of Scotland, or as they are now called the ' Wee Frees', to the extent of £20,000.
In addition to being Chairman of the British India Company at the time of which I speak. Sir William was also Director of the Imperial East African Company, in which he took a deep interest, and it is largely due to him that Central Africa is open to civilization at the present day. He is only one of the many Scotsmen who have become famous for helping to found and consolidate the power of the British Empire, both in Africa and in the East Indies.
I need not say that we young men were all proud to belong to the British India Company, and no more loyal subjects of Queen Victoria ever left our shores, all anxious to distinguish ourselves for the honour of the British Flag. On arriving in London we proceeded as passengers on board the good ship *Ghurka*, which left the Royal Albert Docks next day with no lighter hearts than ours on board. I well remember the derision with which we witnessed the tearful partings from weeping relatives of the other passengers, and to add to the bustle and confusion of the sailing of a big ship, we moved out of the docks in a terrific snow storm which nothing daunted our high flow of spirits, but rather increased them. Having dropped our Pilot at Dungeness, we were out two days without incident, when we encountered very heavy weather in the Bay of Biscay. Indeed the sea ran so high that all passengers were obliged to remain below. This was no deprivation as most, except ourselves, were too sick to come on deck. On the second night when I was trying to get some sleep, and could hear on all sides nothing but the groans of my fellow-passengers, calling out, in language more emphatic than polite, either for death or morning, word came up to our cabin that the chains of the steering gear had broken and our ship was left helpless in the trough of the sea.
Goorkhur
It was only a relief and diversion to us Scotsmen to go below and lend a hand to the ship's officers, and when morning broke, fair and smiling, the storm having passed away, we were sailing merrily down the pleasant Portuguese coast. Passing by the well-known rock of Gibraltar you cannot fail to be impressed by the strength of the British bulwarks when you view the whole face of the rock bristling with British guns, and from this time our voyage was most pleasurable. Every one has heard of the blue Mediterranean but you need to go sailing down it to have any idea of its beauty, coupled with the radiance of the skies overhead which form a striking contrast to the sullen rainy ones that are the general rule in this well-watered city of Belfast. Our first point of call was the beautiful old city of Naples, and I must confess the first time I entered her harbour to a feeling of disappointment. The Bay of Naples is without doubt one of the finest in the world, but my advice is - if you want to keep up your old illusions, don't go on shore! For if you do, it is to find nothing but narrow, filthy streets, fearfully tall dingy buildings, vile, thievish countenances and evil smells. Better to stay on board and view the chief point of interest, that is, the volcano of Vesuvius which towers above the city, always, when I have seen it, emitting clouds of smoke suggestive of imminent eruption and destruction to the town folk, but long usage and custom have made them fearless.
Leaving Naples we passed through the straits of Messina which are extremely narrow, but present some lovely scenery. The vine-clad hills rise around you on either side, and in the distance, the giant volcano Stromboli keeps sentry over the strait, sending forth smoke and ashes from its capacious mouth. Soon after leaving Italian shores we sight the highest lighthouse in Europe which is stationed on the island of Crete. Our next port of call is Port Said, of which a word may be interesting.
Port Said at the entrance to the Suez Canal is, I believe, one of the wickedest cities of the world. It is, as it were, the gate of the east and here collect the scum of all nations for purposes of plundering the unwary, or, carrying on some evil trade. Here you may see Jews, Mohammedans, Turks, Egyptians, Arabs, Continentals, and last, but not least, Britishers and as you may guess, the very lowest specimens of our race. All trading vessels must call here for coal which you see in great quantities as you approach the harbour, as well as crowds of dirty Egyptians waiting for employment of some sort in connection with the replenishing of the ship. Pity the unwary sailor who sets foot, unwarned, for the first time, among the shoal of land sharks to be found in Port Said!
After coaling we gladly left Port Said behind and voyaged down the Suez Canal which is a very uninteresting run, nothing to be seen but sand, sand, on either side. The canal is 98 miles long and just broad enough for two fair sized ships to pass each other - the time taken about 24 hours. A pilot is always in requisition who is dropped at Suez, and then we go on down the historic Red Sea wondering, and speculating, where the children of Israel crossed when they fled before the avenging Pharaoh, and how they did it!
After 18 days of a delightful voyage we reached Aden which is called the coal hole of the East. Here we have another specimen of British power when we see the principal fortifications impregnable and almost covered with our guns. The inhabitants of Aden are chiefly of the Somali race. The town is said to be built in the crater of an extinct volcano. Here we have a wonderful example of the engineering enterprise of the ancients, when we find water-tanks believed to be two thousand years old, which are cut out of the solid rock and capable of holding 20,000 gallons of water. (You see in Aden it only rains once in three years). These tanks are now unused, the drinking water being distilled from sea-water, but they form a great object of interest to the antiquarian.
On this particular voyage of which I speak a great disappointment awaited three of us on our arrival at Aden. As I said, we had expected to be sent on to our numerous friends and acquaintances in Calcutta, but here orders awaited us to proceed to the East African coast. However, in the event, it turned out for me a very interesting episode in my sea life.
Having said goodbye to our many friends, for friendships are easily made and as easily forgotten on board ship, we left the good ship ‘Ghurka’ determined to see all we could and went on board the ‘Baghdad’, a small steamer famous for nothing so much as bilgewater, cockroaches and rats. Nothing of special interest occurred until we reached Kismai, a port some 200 miles north of Mombasa. At this time, the Sultan of the province was in somewhat strained relations with the British government. As we were not aware of this, four of us resolved to go on shore at Kismai and explore the place, with the result that we got into trouble. It was a blazing hot morning and all four were in high good humour, and up for anything in the shape of fun. On landing, and proceeding to anchor our boat against the pier-head, we were immediately set on by three native police who, on seeing we were British, evidently wanted to show their authority - their appearance to us was irresistible, as we had not been accustomed to see policemen at home, clad in nothing but tall hats and umbrellas. We greeted their interference, pointing at us and gesticulating, (as of course they could not speak one word of English) with roars of laughter, and as the morning was hot we decided to give them a good ducking. Accordingly we threw the whole three over the pier-head into the water and were making all speed to gain our boat and be off when we found ourselves surrounded by crowds of yelling natives, the town garrison was called out, and we were hustled through the crowd and promptly put in the lock up. To be sure, the room we found ourselves in was only guarded by four bamboo walls, and we could easily, by giving a good shove, have knocked the whole thing over, but we didn't relish the thought of another promenade through the town unprotected, followed by a crowd of howling niggers most of whom carry knives and know how to use them too, so we put on an air of great dignity and demanded to be had up before the Sultan himself. After a lot of palaver we at last got them to bring us to the Sultan's palace.
Baghdad
Most of us had been out before and were returning, as we thought, to Calcutta or Bombay, where we had plenty of friends and plenty of interests awaiting us. We had all been enjoying a thorough good holiday in the old home land, among old, familiar scenes and faces, but now we were glad once more, with light hearts and still lighter pockets, to turn our faces towards the Southern Cross, all eager for fresh adventures and pastures new. There were eight of us - all Scotch - seven engineers and one a medical man, poor Dr. Charters, of whom I shall speak later on.
All eight were engaged in the service of the British India Steam Navigation Company, then, as now, one of the largest and most important steam boat companies in the world.
This company is the survivor of the celebrated East India Company, which was chartered by Queen Elizabeth for purposes of trading in the East in the year 1600, and which has played no small part in the foundation of our British Indian Empire. It was commonly called the 'Old John' company, but owing to mal-administration on its part it was dissolved after the Indian Mutiny, which it bore the blame of helping to bring about. It then resolved itself into a simple trading company; very wealthy, and almost entirely under Scotch management. Our company was at this time under the direction of the late Sir William Mackinnan, a man of great force of character and calculating powers. I have never met a man who impressed me more with the power of his abilities, and the depth of his wisdom. He was a canny Scot - but he was something more - a man capable of administration both for present and future times. The British India Company owe much to the energy and foresight of Sir William Mackinnan. By the way, it is his brother, Peter, who by his recent death, had enriched the FreeChurch of Scotland, or as they are now called the ' Wee Frees', to the extent of £20,000.
In addition to being Chairman of the British India Company at the time of which I speak. Sir William was also Director of the Imperial East African Company, in which he took a deep interest, and it is largely due to him that Central Africa is open to civilization at the present day. He is only one of the many Scotsmen who have become famous for helping to found and consolidate the power of the British Empire, both in Africa and in the East Indies.
I need not say that we young men were all proud to belong to the British India Company, and no more loyal subjects of Queen Victoria ever left our shores, all anxious to distinguish ourselves for the honour of the British Flag. On arriving in London we proceeded as passengers on board the good ship *Ghurka*, which left the Royal Albert Docks next day with no lighter hearts than ours on board. I well remember the derision with which we witnessed the tearful partings from weeping relatives of the other passengers, and to add to the bustle and confusion of the sailing of a big ship, we moved out of the docks in a terrific snow storm which nothing daunted our high flow of spirits, but rather increased them. Having dropped our Pilot at Dungeness, we were out two days without incident, when we encountered very heavy weather in the Bay of Biscay. Indeed the sea ran so high that all passengers were obliged to remain below. This was no deprivation as most, except ourselves, were too sick to come on deck. On the second night when I was trying to get some sleep, and could hear on all sides nothing but the groans of my fellow-passengers, calling out, in language more emphatic than polite, either for death or morning, word came up to our cabin that the chains of the steering gear had broken and our ship was left helpless in the trough of the sea.
Goorkhur
It was only a relief and diversion to us Scotsmen to go below and lend a hand to the ship's officers, and when morning broke, fair and smiling, the storm having passed away, we were sailing merrily down the pleasant Portuguese coast. Passing by the well-known rock of Gibraltar you cannot fail to be impressed by the strength of the British bulwarks when you view the whole face of the rock bristling with British guns, and from this time our voyage was most pleasurable. Every one has heard of the blue Mediterranean but you need to go sailing down it to have any idea of its beauty, coupled with the radiance of the skies overhead which form a striking contrast to the sullen rainy ones that are the general rule in this well-watered city of Belfast. Our first point of call was the beautiful old city of Naples, and I must confess the first time I entered her harbour to a feeling of disappointment. The Bay of Naples is without doubt one of the finest in the world, but my advice is - if you want to keep up your old illusions, don't go on shore! For if you do, it is to find nothing but narrow, filthy streets, fearfully tall dingy buildings, vile, thievish countenances and evil smells. Better to stay on board and view the chief point of interest, that is, the volcano of Vesuvius which towers above the city, always, when I have seen it, emitting clouds of smoke suggestive of imminent eruption and destruction to the town folk, but long usage and custom have made them fearless.
Leaving Naples we passed through the straits of Messina which are extremely narrow, but present some lovely scenery. The vine-clad hills rise around you on either side, and in the distance, the giant volcano Stromboli keeps sentry over the strait, sending forth smoke and ashes from its capacious mouth. Soon after leaving Italian shores we sight the highest lighthouse in Europe which is stationed on the island of Crete. Our next port of call is Port Said, of which a word may be interesting.
Port Said at the entrance to the Suez Canal is, I believe, one of the wickedest cities of the world. It is, as it were, the gate of the east and here collect the scum of all nations for purposes of plundering the unwary, or, carrying on some evil trade. Here you may see Jews, Mohammedans, Turks, Egyptians, Arabs, Continentals, and last, but not least, Britishers and as you may guess, the very lowest specimens of our race. All trading vessels must call here for coal which you see in great quantities as you approach the harbour, as well as crowds of dirty Egyptians waiting for employment of some sort in connection with the replenishing of the ship. Pity the unwary sailor who sets foot, unwarned, for the first time, among the shoal of land sharks to be found in Port Said!
After coaling we gladly left Port Said behind and voyaged down the Suez Canal which is a very uninteresting run, nothing to be seen but sand, sand, on either side. The canal is 98 miles long and just broad enough for two fair sized ships to pass each other - the time taken about 24 hours. A pilot is always in requisition who is dropped at Suez, and then we go on down the historic Red Sea wondering, and speculating, where the children of Israel crossed when they fled before the avenging Pharaoh, and how they did it!
After 18 days of a delightful voyage we reached Aden which is called the coal hole of the East. Here we have another specimen of British power when we see the principal fortifications impregnable and almost covered with our guns. The inhabitants of Aden are chiefly of the Somali race. The town is said to be built in the crater of an extinct volcano. Here we have a wonderful example of the engineering enterprise of the ancients, when we find water-tanks believed to be two thousand years old, which are cut out of the solid rock and capable of holding 20,000 gallons of water. (You see in Aden it only rains once in three years). These tanks are now unused, the drinking water being distilled from sea-water, but they form a great object of interest to the antiquarian.
On this particular voyage of which I speak a great disappointment awaited three of us on our arrival at Aden. As I said, we had expected to be sent on to our numerous friends and acquaintances in Calcutta, but here orders awaited us to proceed to the East African coast. However, in the event, it turned out for me a very interesting episode in my sea life.
Having said goodbye to our many friends, for friendships are easily made and as easily forgotten on board ship, we left the good ship ‘Ghurka’ determined to see all we could and went on board the ‘Baghdad’, a small steamer famous for nothing so much as bilgewater, cockroaches and rats. Nothing of special interest occurred until we reached Kismai, a port some 200 miles north of Mombasa. At this time, the Sultan of the province was in somewhat strained relations with the British government. As we were not aware of this, four of us resolved to go on shore at Kismai and explore the place, with the result that we got into trouble. It was a blazing hot morning and all four were in high good humour, and up for anything in the shape of fun. On landing, and proceeding to anchor our boat against the pier-head, we were immediately set on by three native police who, on seeing we were British, evidently wanted to show their authority - their appearance to us was irresistible, as we had not been accustomed to see policemen at home, clad in nothing but tall hats and umbrellas. We greeted their interference, pointing at us and gesticulating, (as of course they could not speak one word of English) with roars of laughter, and as the morning was hot we decided to give them a good ducking. Accordingly we threw the whole three over the pier-head into the water and were making all speed to gain our boat and be off when we found ourselves surrounded by crowds of yelling natives, the town garrison was called out, and we were hustled through the crowd and promptly put in the lock up. To be sure, the room we found ourselves in was only guarded by four bamboo walls, and we could easily, by giving a good shove, have knocked the whole thing over, but we didn't relish the thought of another promenade through the town unprotected, followed by a crowd of howling niggers most of whom carry knives and know how to use them too, so we put on an air of great dignity and demanded to be had up before the Sultan himself. After a lot of palaver we at last got them to bring us to the Sultan's palace.
Baghdad
This was a substantial stone and mud building looking very imposing in comparison with the mud huts which form the ordinary habitation of the natives of Kismai. When we got inside we found the smell of burnt oil and beans very offensive, but after waiting a while we were at length ushered into the august presence of the Sultan himself. He was a very fat old Arab with hoary head, who squatted on the floor of his palace on a deer-skin rug and could not speak a word of English to save his life. I must say he was well-clad in flowing white robes, but his attendants who flocked around him, evidently struck dumb with wonder at our unusual appearance, were superior to the trammels of clothing of any sort, the only article of attire, it if could be called one, being a huge umbrella which each man held by like grim death.
Barghash, Sultan of Zanzibar
The Sultan received us with very sullen looks but after salaaming a number of times and trying to look mild and respectful to his dignity, we at length succeeded, mostly by pointing, to get him to know that all we wanted was to see the British Consul. It was a good while before he consented to send for this gentleman; meanwhile we squatted on the floor, and waited through the heat of the day, with what patience we could command, submitting to be gazed out of countenance by the Sultan's servants. Very different from the jolly day we had expected to spend on shore! It was not until six o'clock in the evening that the British Consul (I forget his name), hearing of our plight, sent word of it to the Captain of H.M. gun boat 'Swallow' which was lying just outside the harbour. The Captain immediately sent a boat's crew of sailors on shore to our relief and the moment the old wretch of a Sultan heard of their arrival he dismissed us with the request that we would make ourselves scarce in that port in future. We regained our small boat, were cautioned by the Consul, and beat rather an ignominious retreat back to the steamer. But when we told our story we were greeted with such roars of laughter that we became heroes of the hour, and wound up what might have been a day of disaster with a real good jollification. Next morning we went on to Mombasa, our spirits of adventure being considerably cooled.
A word of explanation is here necessary, that it may be understood what sort of place Mombasa was in the eighties when I was there for the first time, and also what business we had to be there at all.
Mombasa consisted, when we first made its acquaintance, of three dilapidated houses out-flanked by rows of native mud huts. No government buildings, no municipalities, no schools, no anything, except the absence of all sanitary arrangements, which was the most striking feature of the place - at least it struck our noses with unpleasant persistence the first moment we set foot on shore. It stands on a coral island about three miles long and has without doubt all the qualifications of a very fine sea port. Here no horses or large animals can live, owing to the venomous fly peculiar to this district. Like many other places now under British control, Mombasa was in former days one of the strongholds of the Portuguese, who by the way, I often wonder how they can be so friendly to our country if they ever look over their history and take a survey of how many places of their ancient glory have been quietly annexed by John Bull! The grandeur of the Portuguese is still to be seen in one or two fine old forts that surround the town, which in ancient times must have been impregnable. One, in particular, has been captured and re-captured again and again; built so long ago as 1594, taken by us in 1698, then restored, held till 1703, and finally yielded up by the native chief and put under British protection in 1823. After a time it was again abandoned by the British as being of no use and seized upon by the Sultan of Zanzibar, who in 1888, the very year we were sent out, had just ceded it provisionally to the British East Africa Company, in whose service we were. Two years later, this company was made sole master of the place, together with a vast tract of land extending from the Juba river to the Umba, and inland as far as Victoria Nyasa and beyond the frontiers of the Congo Free State. Thus, without bloodshed, in the quietest manner possible, in fact, almost without the knowledge of the average Britisher at home, did a trading company of Scotsmen gain possession for our government of a tract of country six times the size of Great Britain and Ireland put together - in all an area of 7,000 square miles. A country, beautiful, well watered and fertile, rich in mango groves and orange trees, yielding in abundance gold, copper, plumbago, iron-ore, India rubber, etc., and presenting opportunities for the erection of a harbour, the largest and safest in the East African coast. Two years later when I again visited Mombasa, I was struck by the great advantages of British rule and industry in the place. We ourselves had laid the first rails for the line to connect it with Victoria Nyasa, and it is now connected by telegraph with Zanzibar. Vast buildings had sprung up, government schools, churches, (unfortunately grog shops as well); in short, civilization had established itself, as is always the case where John Bull gets a chance of firmly planting his feet, and Mombasa, with the surrounding district, is now one of our most lucrative and important possessions in East Africa.
To return to this particular voyage, after spending considerable time at Mombasa we were ordered to go down to Zanzibar in order to buy as many coolies as could be get together for an expedition to Uganda, to survey the country for a railway.
Zanzibar is at the present day the largest town and trading port in the east coast of Africa, and the station of the British India Company. Like Mombasa it is built on a coral island which, with numerous other islands, studded along the coast line, were in 1890 formed into a British protectorate. The strip of mainland to the south of Zanzibar from the Umba river is administered by the German East African Company, while Britain administers the northern strip as far as the Juba river, as well as all the adjacent islands. Of a population of 125,000 nearly 100,000 are in the town itself. They are mostly Negroes or, seedy boys as they are called, but the governing classes are Arabs and many foreign traders are settled there. The religion is Mohammedanism but a number of Christian missions are now established. As for the present Sultan, his power is reduced to nothing more than a name. The British allow him three lakhs of rupees for his private purse; the rest of the state income, which is chiefly derived from customs and dues taken off the ivory which passes through Zanzibar, is applied for police, maintenance, public works and the like. On arriving then at this town I had an interview with the famous Tipo Tib, the great Arab slave agent, with whom I traded for 200 coolies. I may observe that he did me out of the half of them, but their price was a small one.
After arranging for the transmission of the coolies, we spent a very pleasant week in Zanzibar. The Sultan was most friendly, the weather lovely, the shooting plentiful. The royal stables were placed at our disposal and we had unlimited use of the fleet-footed ponies of the country, and spent some delightful days riding among the clove and mango fields and making up shooting parties for the slaughter of snipe, teal and wild duck - familiar game that made us feel quite at home. We also had an invitation to the station of the London Missionary Society, where we were well received -and entertained to tea and cake, making us feel as if we were once more in the regions of civilization. Our business finished in Zanzibar, we returned to Mombasa, from there to start on our inland expedition. It was a beautiful tropical morning when we started inland on foot, and carrying all necessary provisions with us. In addition to what we should require on the way, we carried our tents and all the complicated tools and implements necessary to construct a wooden bridge, which we were to build across the Umba river in preparation for the railway to be constructed to Uganda. There were seven of us Britishers, with Colonel Millar at the head; McKenzie, the Government Surveyor; Muir, a Glasgow man; Dr. Charters from Edinburgh, Neil and myself, engineers, and about 150 coolies. Each man carried about 28 Ibs. weight. Attired all in white with the largest topees to be got, on our heads, we made a start by crossing to the mainland and getting our last 'good byes’ and 'good lucks' from the Church Missionary Society, whose faces were the last friendly ones we were to see for many a day. That first day's march was a very trying one to us all. Our chief difficulty was to keep the coolies in order and making them march in some kind of line, also settling the squabbles always arising among them. The track was fairly good, but the sun was sweltering, and it was with weary feet we encamped only 10 miles from the mission station after all our exertions. However, a good sleep set us all to right and the next morning we breakfasted on wild duck shot on the way yesterday, cocoa and biscuits, and were ready packed at 6:00 a.m. to put our coolies in line and start for the second day's march. The second day was rather better than the first - by dint of determination and with tremendous exertions we encamped gratefully at sun down in a cool green glade surrounded by mangroves. Here, after tea, the remains of the wild duck and some biscuits, we took out our guns to cater for the next day's dinner. On an expedition of this kind you require to be thoughtful house keepers, and to keep a sharp eye on the larder and its contents. What with so many natives to feed and our own enormous appetites, we required to be well provisioned. Happily we were all good shots, and we never suffered from dearth of stores or want of fresh meat during the whole time.
This particular evening we were lucky in capturing two boars, not the kind that have since made themselves formidable in South Africa, but animals of the pig-tribe. On bringing these back to camp, a jolly good supper was prepared after which, considering all things, we slept well. The worst feature of the nights out there was the mosquitoes that never ceased to buzz around and bite the whole night through. These gave us more exercise than we desired to keep them off, and the language that was used would hardly be suitable for the ears of Church members. Add to this the noise of the coolies who sat round their big camp fires and made night hideous with their drums and tom-toms. On the third day of our march we fell in with a slave caravan. This is a common occurrence to meet Arab traders with companies of men, women and children, bringing them to the coast to be sold as slaves. It is rather a mistaken kindness to do as Stanley sometimes did, that was, to rescue them from their owners and set them free, as they are often four or five hundred miles from their native villages with no prospect of getting back, and they must either make their way to the coast themselves or die of starvation. We let them pass. Continuing our march we came to the Masiah (Masai?) tribe, who were formerly very hostile to all whites, and at first we met with a very sullen reception from these people, until we were taken before the chief. We looked through our stores to see what we could offer him, and pleased him very well with a present of a piece of brass wire and some brooches and bangles, which we had provided for the native taste. After this he became quite grateful and visited us in our camp, where he fell in love with a small grindstone that we had brought to sharpen our tools. To his great delight, we presented him with it and he summoned his whole court to see it work, and when we left he vowed eternal friendship with us all. He presented rather a queer figure. His dress consisted of a tunic of dried grass, plenty of bangles on his arms and ankles, and a big handful of feathers on his head. He possessed about 40 wives, who all lived in his kraal with him, and I think would not be coveted from him soon. Bangles and umbrellas and about two yards of gay coloured calico completed their rather fresh-air costumes; their beauty was little to our taste, with their hair thick with coconut oil, thick lips and of course negro features, and that vacant stare that denotes the want of intelligence of the race. Our camp was outside the village, and we occasionally ventured in to buy dried fish and mangoes in the bazaars. The morning we left, four or five dozens of them followed us, gaping, for miles on our way, and so we said good bye to the Masiah tribe.
After a march of nine days we reached the Wamba river, a tributary of the Umba. This was the end of our expedition and our orders were to build a wooden bridge across this river. You may guess it was a troublesome operation with only coolies to do the work, and those of the very lowest order. First we had to cut down the trees, then prepare the wood, which was called iron or dead wood, and which we had great difficulty in getting to float, but at last we managed it, and finished our bridge of 100 feet long, as well as surveying for the steel one to be built later on at the same place. While engaged at this work an event occurred which saddened us all, and cast a gloom over our small company - no less than the loss of one of our seven. Dr. Charters was the photographer of our party, and had succeeded in getting some good photos of places and natives with his camera. I was in the habit of going with him on his special trips for taking photos. One morning, he got up early and departed himself to get some particular photos that he wanted, and he was never heard of again. Search parties were set on foot and we beat the jungle, but not a trace of the missing man did we ever find! We learned from the natives that lions were known to be in the vicinity and that he was devoured by a lion, was the only explanation we could ever get at. It was with sad hearts that we gave up the quest for our lost friend and prepared to carry back our ill-news to the coast and then send it on to the agents in London.
This is a common occurrence in the experience of parties like ours, and shows that exploring in Central Africa is not all beer and skittles!
Altogether we spent two months in building our bridge, of which we were very proud, and during that time we lived by our guns, with the addition of plenty of tinned provisions that we had brought with us. Our chief trouble was to keep the coolies in order, as they were lazy and unruly, and had a strong habit of sitting down to rest at the most important part of the work. Our object being accomplished, McKenzie, Neil and myself retraced our steps to the coast with a bodyguard of 50 coolies, while the others awaited Sir Gerald Partal and his expedition, who had to pass that way on the road to Uganda. On our backward march we took a northerly direction so as to avoid the Masiah tribe, as we had no wish to encounter them again in our reduced numbers, and we reached Mombasa without adventure. There we joined the 'Henry Wright', a small mission steamer which was put under my charge, for Zanzibar. Arriving at Zanzibar we found the whole place en fete, as Stanley and his Company had come in that morning from Cape Town and he was landing his coolies there after his great three years expedition. Long lost fathers and sons were being received back again to the bosoms of their families. Here I made the interesting acquaintance of Mr. Stevens, the celebrated war correspondent of the 'New York World'. He is the author of that fine book 'Four Months Besieged' and his tragic death in Ladysmith is still fresh in the memory of all. He was a most desirable acquaintance, and shortly after, I was introduced by him to the great explorer Stanley himself.
Henry Morton Stanley
Barghash, Sultan of Zanzibar
A word of explanation is here necessary, that it may be understood what sort of place Mombasa was in the eighties when I was there for the first time, and also what business we had to be there at all.
Mombasa consisted, when we first made its acquaintance, of three dilapidated houses out-flanked by rows of native mud huts. No government buildings, no municipalities, no schools, no anything, except the absence of all sanitary arrangements, which was the most striking feature of the place - at least it struck our noses with unpleasant persistence the first moment we set foot on shore. It stands on a coral island about three miles long and has without doubt all the qualifications of a very fine sea port. Here no horses or large animals can live, owing to the venomous fly peculiar to this district. Like many other places now under British control, Mombasa was in former days one of the strongholds of the Portuguese, who by the way, I often wonder how they can be so friendly to our country if they ever look over their history and take a survey of how many places of their ancient glory have been quietly annexed by John Bull! The grandeur of the Portuguese is still to be seen in one or two fine old forts that surround the town, which in ancient times must have been impregnable. One, in particular, has been captured and re-captured again and again; built so long ago as 1594, taken by us in 1698, then restored, held till 1703, and finally yielded up by the native chief and put under British protection in 1823. After a time it was again abandoned by the British as being of no use and seized upon by the Sultan of Zanzibar, who in 1888, the very year we were sent out, had just ceded it provisionally to the British East Africa Company, in whose service we were. Two years later, this company was made sole master of the place, together with a vast tract of land extending from the Juba river to the Umba, and inland as far as Victoria Nyasa and beyond the frontiers of the Congo Free State. Thus, without bloodshed, in the quietest manner possible, in fact, almost without the knowledge of the average Britisher at home, did a trading company of Scotsmen gain possession for our government of a tract of country six times the size of Great Britain and Ireland put together - in all an area of 7,000 square miles. A country, beautiful, well watered and fertile, rich in mango groves and orange trees, yielding in abundance gold, copper, plumbago, iron-ore, India rubber, etc., and presenting opportunities for the erection of a harbour, the largest and safest in the East African coast. Two years later when I again visited Mombasa, I was struck by the great advantages of British rule and industry in the place. We ourselves had laid the first rails for the line to connect it with Victoria Nyasa, and it is now connected by telegraph with Zanzibar. Vast buildings had sprung up, government schools, churches, (unfortunately grog shops as well); in short, civilization had established itself, as is always the case where John Bull gets a chance of firmly planting his feet, and Mombasa, with the surrounding district, is now one of our most lucrative and important possessions in East Africa.
To return to this particular voyage, after spending considerable time at Mombasa we were ordered to go down to Zanzibar in order to buy as many coolies as could be get together for an expedition to Uganda, to survey the country for a railway.
Zanzibar is at the present day the largest town and trading port in the east coast of Africa, and the station of the British India Company. Like Mombasa it is built on a coral island which, with numerous other islands, studded along the coast line, were in 1890 formed into a British protectorate. The strip of mainland to the south of Zanzibar from the Umba river is administered by the German East African Company, while Britain administers the northern strip as far as the Juba river, as well as all the adjacent islands. Of a population of 125,000 nearly 100,000 are in the town itself. They are mostly Negroes or, seedy boys as they are called, but the governing classes are Arabs and many foreign traders are settled there. The religion is Mohammedanism but a number of Christian missions are now established. As for the present Sultan, his power is reduced to nothing more than a name. The British allow him three lakhs of rupees for his private purse; the rest of the state income, which is chiefly derived from customs and dues taken off the ivory which passes through Zanzibar, is applied for police, maintenance, public works and the like. On arriving then at this town I had an interview with the famous Tipo Tib, the great Arab slave agent, with whom I traded for 200 coolies. I may observe that he did me out of the half of them, but their price was a small one.
After arranging for the transmission of the coolies, we spent a very pleasant week in Zanzibar. The Sultan was most friendly, the weather lovely, the shooting plentiful. The royal stables were placed at our disposal and we had unlimited use of the fleet-footed ponies of the country, and spent some delightful days riding among the clove and mango fields and making up shooting parties for the slaughter of snipe, teal and wild duck - familiar game that made us feel quite at home. We also had an invitation to the station of the London Missionary Society, where we were well received -and entertained to tea and cake, making us feel as if we were once more in the regions of civilization. Our business finished in Zanzibar, we returned to Mombasa, from there to start on our inland expedition. It was a beautiful tropical morning when we started inland on foot, and carrying all necessary provisions with us. In addition to what we should require on the way, we carried our tents and all the complicated tools and implements necessary to construct a wooden bridge, which we were to build across the Umba river in preparation for the railway to be constructed to Uganda. There were seven of us Britishers, with Colonel Millar at the head; McKenzie, the Government Surveyor; Muir, a Glasgow man; Dr. Charters from Edinburgh, Neil and myself, engineers, and about 150 coolies. Each man carried about 28 Ibs. weight. Attired all in white with the largest topees to be got, on our heads, we made a start by crossing to the mainland and getting our last 'good byes’ and 'good lucks' from the Church Missionary Society, whose faces were the last friendly ones we were to see for many a day. That first day's march was a very trying one to us all. Our chief difficulty was to keep the coolies in order and making them march in some kind of line, also settling the squabbles always arising among them. The track was fairly good, but the sun was sweltering, and it was with weary feet we encamped only 10 miles from the mission station after all our exertions. However, a good sleep set us all to right and the next morning we breakfasted on wild duck shot on the way yesterday, cocoa and biscuits, and were ready packed at 6:00 a.m. to put our coolies in line and start for the second day's march. The second day was rather better than the first - by dint of determination and with tremendous exertions we encamped gratefully at sun down in a cool green glade surrounded by mangroves. Here, after tea, the remains of the wild duck and some biscuits, we took out our guns to cater for the next day's dinner. On an expedition of this kind you require to be thoughtful house keepers, and to keep a sharp eye on the larder and its contents. What with so many natives to feed and our own enormous appetites, we required to be well provisioned. Happily we were all good shots, and we never suffered from dearth of stores or want of fresh meat during the whole time.
This particular evening we were lucky in capturing two boars, not the kind that have since made themselves formidable in South Africa, but animals of the pig-tribe. On bringing these back to camp, a jolly good supper was prepared after which, considering all things, we slept well. The worst feature of the nights out there was the mosquitoes that never ceased to buzz around and bite the whole night through. These gave us more exercise than we desired to keep them off, and the language that was used would hardly be suitable for the ears of Church members. Add to this the noise of the coolies who sat round their big camp fires and made night hideous with their drums and tom-toms. On the third day of our march we fell in with a slave caravan. This is a common occurrence to meet Arab traders with companies of men, women and children, bringing them to the coast to be sold as slaves. It is rather a mistaken kindness to do as Stanley sometimes did, that was, to rescue them from their owners and set them free, as they are often four or five hundred miles from their native villages with no prospect of getting back, and they must either make their way to the coast themselves or die of starvation. We let them pass. Continuing our march we came to the Masiah (Masai?) tribe, who were formerly very hostile to all whites, and at first we met with a very sullen reception from these people, until we were taken before the chief. We looked through our stores to see what we could offer him, and pleased him very well with a present of a piece of brass wire and some brooches and bangles, which we had provided for the native taste. After this he became quite grateful and visited us in our camp, where he fell in love with a small grindstone that we had brought to sharpen our tools. To his great delight, we presented him with it and he summoned his whole court to see it work, and when we left he vowed eternal friendship with us all. He presented rather a queer figure. His dress consisted of a tunic of dried grass, plenty of bangles on his arms and ankles, and a big handful of feathers on his head. He possessed about 40 wives, who all lived in his kraal with him, and I think would not be coveted from him soon. Bangles and umbrellas and about two yards of gay coloured calico completed their rather fresh-air costumes; their beauty was little to our taste, with their hair thick with coconut oil, thick lips and of course negro features, and that vacant stare that denotes the want of intelligence of the race. Our camp was outside the village, and we occasionally ventured in to buy dried fish and mangoes in the bazaars. The morning we left, four or five dozens of them followed us, gaping, for miles on our way, and so we said good bye to the Masiah tribe.
After a march of nine days we reached the Wamba river, a tributary of the Umba. This was the end of our expedition and our orders were to build a wooden bridge across this river. You may guess it was a troublesome operation with only coolies to do the work, and those of the very lowest order. First we had to cut down the trees, then prepare the wood, which was called iron or dead wood, and which we had great difficulty in getting to float, but at last we managed it, and finished our bridge of 100 feet long, as well as surveying for the steel one to be built later on at the same place. While engaged at this work an event occurred which saddened us all, and cast a gloom over our small company - no less than the loss of one of our seven. Dr. Charters was the photographer of our party, and had succeeded in getting some good photos of places and natives with his camera. I was in the habit of going with him on his special trips for taking photos. One morning, he got up early and departed himself to get some particular photos that he wanted, and he was never heard of again. Search parties were set on foot and we beat the jungle, but not a trace of the missing man did we ever find! We learned from the natives that lions were known to be in the vicinity and that he was devoured by a lion, was the only explanation we could ever get at. It was with sad hearts that we gave up the quest for our lost friend and prepared to carry back our ill-news to the coast and then send it on to the agents in London.
This is a common occurrence in the experience of parties like ours, and shows that exploring in Central Africa is not all beer and skittles!
Altogether we spent two months in building our bridge, of which we were very proud, and during that time we lived by our guns, with the addition of plenty of tinned provisions that we had brought with us. Our chief trouble was to keep the coolies in order, as they were lazy and unruly, and had a strong habit of sitting down to rest at the most important part of the work. Our object being accomplished, McKenzie, Neil and myself retraced our steps to the coast with a bodyguard of 50 coolies, while the others awaited Sir Gerald Partal and his expedition, who had to pass that way on the road to Uganda. On our backward march we took a northerly direction so as to avoid the Masiah tribe, as we had no wish to encounter them again in our reduced numbers, and we reached Mombasa without adventure. There we joined the 'Henry Wright', a small mission steamer which was put under my charge, for Zanzibar. Arriving at Zanzibar we found the whole place en fete, as Stanley and his Company had come in that morning from Cape Town and he was landing his coolies there after his great three years expedition. Long lost fathers and sons were being received back again to the bosoms of their families. Here I made the interesting acquaintance of Mr. Stevens, the celebrated war correspondent of the 'New York World'. He is the author of that fine book 'Four Months Besieged' and his tragic death in Ladysmith is still fresh in the memory of all. He was a most desirable acquaintance, and shortly after, I was introduced by him to the great explorer Stanley himself.
Henry Morton Stanley
It was on board a British Gun Boat that I met him and although I only saw him once, he left a very marked impression on my mind. He had a kindly, but stern face, a man, of iron will, overbearing in his manner, but impressing one with the inflexibility of his will and his great staying powers. In appearance, his hair was white, his keen grey eye deeply sunken, his mouth prominent, his figure commanding. He questioned me about the railway and said he hoped in two years' time that it would be extended to Uganda. This hope is now fulfilled. So much impressed was I with Stanley that I would gladly have joined an expedition under him, if he had gone out again. This did not come to pass, and I may say that during the remaining three years I spent in East Africa I was never again so far inland, so I can only boast about 300 miles of African exploration. Those three years I chiefly spent on the Zambezi river, a very monotonous run, with only the sight of an occasional hippo or the prospect, if we went to bathe, of being made the breakfast for a crocodile, to give a variety. In setting down these few bald and incomplete notes of this part of my life, I am handicapped in two ways. First I kept no diary, and took no notes whatever of the events at the time, and as a considerable time has elapsed since then it is with difficulty I can remember anything but the merest outlines. Secondly I am not gifted with a fertile imagination, so I cannot embellish or adorn the narrative. I can only give my impressions of how we felt and what we saw. One merit I can safely claim for what I have written, that is, that it is fairly accurate, but I am sorry that my memory failed me to make it fuller. I must just ask the listeners to be very indulgent and to make allowances for the want of interesting matter and all the other imperfections. I may remark in closing that of those eight young men who left Glasgow that wild, winter night, there is not one left today but myself. Fever, misadventure and drowning have befallen the other seven. I give this as a note of warning to those of you who may be dissatisfied with your peaceful lives at home, and who may think that it is grand to go abroad and see the world. It is very nice no doubt to travel, but going out either to India or Africa, what with the climate, fever and accidents, is almost to take your life in your hand. The Poet says 'Home keeping hearts are happiest, to stay at home is best'. After all is said and done, there is no place like 'Home sweet Home'.