One morning when sailing past a pretty thickly-inhabited part, we were surprised at seeing nine large bull-elephants standing near the beach quietly flapping their gigantic ears.Glad of an opportunity of getting some fresh meat, we landed and fired into one.They all retreated into a marshy piece of ground between two villages.Our men gave chase, and fired into the herd.Standing on a sand hummock, we could see the bleeding animals throwing showers of water with their trunks over their backs.The herd was soon driven back upon us, and a wounded one turned to bay.Yet neither this one, nor any of the others, ever attempted to charge.Having broken his legs with a rifle-ball, we fired into him at forty yards as rapidly as we could load and discharge the rifles.He simply shook his head at each shot, and received at least sixty Enfield balls before he fell.Our excellent sailor from the north of Ireland happened to fire the last, and, as soon as he saw the animal fall, he turned with an air of triumph to the Doctor and exclaimed, "It was MY shot that done it, sir!"
In a few minutes upwards of a thousand natives were round the prostrate king of beasts; and, after our men had taken all they wanted, an invitation was given to the villagers to take the remainder.They rushed at it like hungry hyenas, and in an incredibly short time every inch of it was carried off.It was only by knowing that the meat would all be used that we felt justified in the slaughter of this noble creature.The tusks weighed 62 lbs.
each.A large amount of ivory might be obtained from the people of Nyassa, and we were frequently told of their having it in their huts.
While detained by a storm on the 17th October at the mouth of the Kaombe, we were visited by several men belonging to an Arab who had been for fourteen years in the interior at Katanga's, south of Cazembe's.They had just brought down ivory, malachite, copper rings, and slaves to exchange for cloth at the lake.The malachite was said to be dug out of a large vein on the side of a hill near Katanga's.They knew Lake Tanganyika well, but had not heard of the Zambesi.They spoke quite positively, saying that the water of Lake Tanganyika flowed out by the opposite end to that of Nyassa.As they had seen neither of the overflows, we took it simply as a piece of Arab geography.We passed their establishment of long sheds next day, and were satisfied that the Arabs must be driving a good trade.
The Lake slave-trade was going on at a terrible rate.Two enterprising Arabs had built a dhow, and were running her, crowded with slaves, regularly across the Lake.We were told she sailed the day before we reached their head-quarters.This establishment is in the latitude of the Portuguese slave-exporting town of Iboe, and partly supplies that vile market; but the greater number of the slaves go to Kilwa.We did not see much evidence of a wish to barter.Some ivory was offered for sale; but the chief traffic was in human chattels.Would that we could give a comprehensive account of the horrors of the slave-trade, with an approximation to the number of lives it yearly destroys! for we feel sure that were even half the truth told and recognized, the feelings of men would be so thoroughly roused, that this devilish traffic in human flesh would be put down at all risks; but neither we, nor any one else, have the statistics necessary for a work of this kind.Let us state what we do know of one portion of Africa, and then every reader who believes our tale can apply the ratio of the known misery to find out the unknown.We were informed by Colonel Rigby, late H.M. Political Agent, and Consul at Zanzibar, that 19,000 slaves from this Nyassa country alone pass annually through the Custom-house of that island.
This is exclusive of course of those sent to Portuguese slave-ports.
Let it not be supposed for an instant that this number, 19,000, represents all the victims.Those taken out of the country are but a very small section of the sufferers.We never realized the atrocious nature of the traffic, until we saw it at the fountain-head.There truly "Satan has his seat."Besides those actually captured, thousands are killed and die of their wounds and famine, driven from their villages by the slave raid proper.Thousands perish in internecine war waged for slaves with their own clansmen and neighbours, slain by the lust of gain, which is stimulated, be it remembered always, by the slave purchasers of Cuba and elsewhere.
The many skeletons we have seen, amongst rocks and woods, by the little pools, and along the paths of the wilderness, attest the awful sacrifice of human life, which must be attributed, directly or indirectly, to this trade of hell.We would ask our countrymen to believe us when we say, as we conscientiously can, that it is our deliberate opinion, from what we know and have seen, that not one-fifth of the victims of the slave-trade ever become slaves.Taking the Shire Valley as an average, we should say not even one-tenth arrive at their destination.As the system, therefore, involves such an awful waste of human life,--or shall we say of human labour?--and moreover tends directly to perpetuate the barbarism of those who remain in the country, the argument for the continuance of this wasteful course because, forsooth, a fraction of the enslaved may find good masters, seems of no great value.This reasoning, if not the result of ignorance, may be of maudlin philanthropy.A small armed steamer on Lake Nyassa could easily, by exercising a control, and furnishing goods in exchange for ivory and other products, break the neck of this infamous traffic in that quarter; for nearly all must cross the Lake or the Upper Shire.
