During the evening Senhor Braga, the governor, and
myself used to walk through the solitary streets and visit
the two principal merchants, Senhor Martinez and Senhor
Pereira. One of these nights was very lovely, and I lingered
upon the river hanks long after the tattoo had echoed away
across the expanse of the quiet waters.
Reposing life has left the air in a mute calmness. Ahove,
the pale moon floats gently through the illimitable vault
of gloom, out of whose darkness occasionally come fleecy
clouds—the harbingers of coming floods—to pass fitfully
across the light which garnishes their edges with a bright
and silvery gleam. The beauty of the heavens is reflected
on the glassy surface of the great river as I watch the
rippling waters flow onward to mingle with the distant
sea.S
ealed is thy tragic story, oh, mighty Zambesi! Thy
woes of a thousand ages are untold. Smoothly and silently
though thy waters run, the storms of human warfare and
the miseries of human cruelty have cursed the varied scenes
through which thou flowest. Silence beseems thee best.
Flow onward, then, in peace, and let thy waters he broken
only by the hideous monsters which rise to the surface from
thy living mysterious depths. Upon thy banks the hand
of time hath imprinted indelibly the epochs of the primeval
world, but the dread story of the centuries of man’s life in
thy land of sorrow shall ever be unknown. Thy countless
branches stretch far away through a vast region to draw
the moisture from thousands of leagues of mountain, plain
and forest, where as yet the white man hath not planted his
foot, and knows not the sequestered mountain-spring which
gives thee birth. Like thyself, year after year, these add
new horrors to their history, to be for ever silent as the
tomb; they carry their burdens of woe towards thy dark,
unwritten waters, ever flowing onward to the vast ocean of
sorrow.
My reverie is broken. Awakening the stillness of midnight,
I hear the booming of drums. At first they beat
slowly and with distinct pauses. Then again more quickly,
boom, boom, boom! These re-echoing sounds vibrate from
the villages which environ the town. They tell that the
feast which follows a funeral is proceeding, and accompanying
the beat of the drum I hear the chant of the
people, as they sing of the good deeds of the departed.
Louder and louder grows the sound, until it becomes a
vociferous clamour of countless voices, mingled with the
clangour of batuka and marimba, inharmonic, wild and sad,
breaking the silence which had fallen upon the slumbering
town.
Such were the weird notes, which more than once lulled
me to sleep during my stay at Kunyungwi.
After a week’s residence my physical condition changed
very much for the better. By that time I was in a state of
thorough repair, although my feet were not yet healed.
The governor kindly offered me quarters, should I wish to
remain in Tette, until news had arrived from the outer
world, as well as some more definite information as to the
state of the contiguous tribes. Time was an object, however,
and therefore I was unable to accept his hospitable
offer.
The old spirit of adventure was aflame. The star of hope
was in the ascendant. I t was a case of, Ho, for the no rth !
the land of doubt, the country of the Angoni, the home of
the Landin. I must push on.
The work of recruiting had been placed in the hands of
one of the governor’s subordinates, who assured me that he
had all the party in readiness. From Senhor Martinez I