CHAPTER XIV.A DECLARATION OF WAR.[edit]
All pretext for quarrelling being now removed, the
Colonel and Strux, somewhat rancorous at heart, recommenced
their joint labours. About five miles to the left of
the gap made by the conflagration, rose an eminence which
would serve as the vertex of a new triangle. When the
requisite observations were complete, the caravan set off
across the burnt forest.
The road was paved with embers. The soil was still
burning, and here and there smouldered stumps of trees,
while a hot steam rose around. In many places lay the
blackened carcases of animals which had been unable to
make their escape. Wreaths of smoke gave evidence that
the fire was not yet extinct, and might still be rekindled
by the wind. Had the flames burst out again the caravan
must inevitably have been destroyed. Towards the
middle of the day, however, it was safely encamped at the
foot of the hill. Here was a mass of rock which seemed to
have been arranged by the hand of man. It was a kind of
cromlech—a surprising erection to find in that locality—resembling
the structures attributed to the Druids, and
which ever furnish fresh interest to the archæologist. The
most credible suggestion was that it must be the remains
of some primitive African altar.
The two young astronomers and Sir John Murray wished
to visit the fantastic construction, and, accompanied by the
bushman, they ascended the slope. They were not above
twenty paces from the cromlech when a man, hitherto
concealed behind one of the massy stones at the base,
appeared for a moment, and, descending the hill, stole quickly
away into a thicket that had been untouched by the fire.
The momentary glance was enough for the bushman. “A
Makololo!” he cried, and rushed after the native. Sir
John followed, and both in vain searched the wood. The
native, knowing the short paths, had escaped where the
most experienced hunter could not have traced him.
When the incident was related to Colonel Everest he sent
for Mokoum, and asked him who the man was? what he
was doing? and why he had followed him?
“He is a Makololo, Colonel,” replied Mokoum. “He
belongs to one of the northern tribes that haunt the
affluents of the Zambesi. Not only is he an enemy of us
Bochjesmen, but he is a plunderer of all who venture into
the country; he was spying us, and we shall be lucky
if we have not cause to regret that we couldn't get hold ot
him.”
“But what have we to fear from a band of robbers?”
asked the Colonel; “are not our numbers sufficient to
resist them?”
“At present, yes,” replied the bushman; “but in the
north these tribes are more frequent, and it is difficult to
avoid them. If this Makololo is a spy, as I suspect, he will
not fail in putting several hundred of these robbers on our
track, and then, Colonel, I would not give a farthing for all
your triangles.”
The Colonel was vexed. He knew that the bushman
was not the man to exaggerate danger, and that all he said
ought to be duly weighed. The intentions of the native
were certainly suspicious; his sudden appearance and
immediate flight showed that he was caught deliberately
spying. No doubt he would announce the approach of the
Commission to the tribes of the north. There was, however,
no help for it now; the caravan must continue its
march with extra precautions.
On the 17th of August the astronomers completed their
twenty-second triangle, and with it the third degree of the
meridian. Finding by the map that the village of
Kolobeng was about 100 miles to the north-east, they
resolved to turn thither for a few days' rest. For nearly
six months they had had no communication with the
civilized world, and at Kolobeng, an important village and
missionary station, they would probably hear news from
Europe, besides being able to re-provision the caravan.
The remarkable cromlech was at once chosen as the
landmark whence subsequent operations should commence,
and the Colonel gave the signal for departure.
With no further incident the caravan reached Kolobeng on
the 22nd. The village was merely a mass of native huts,
the uniformity of which was relieved by the depôt of the
missionaries who had settled there. Formerly called
Lepelolé, it is marked on some maps Litoubarouka. Here
Dr. Livingstone stayed for some months in 1843, to learn
the habits of the Bechuanas, or Bakouins, as they are more
generally termed in this part of the country.
With all hospitality the missionaries received the
Europeans, and put every available resource at their
disposal. Livingstone's house was still to be seen, sacked
and ruined, as when visited by Baldwin; the Boers had not
spared it in their incursion of 1852.
All eagerly asked for news from Europe; but their
curiosity could not be immediately satisfied, as no courier
had reached the mission in the last six months; but in
about a week the principal said they expected journals and
despatches, since they had already heard of the arrival of a
carrier on the banks of the Upper Zambesi. A week was
just the period that the astronomers desired for their rest,
and all except Palander, who constantly revised his calculations,
passed the time in a complete far nieute. The
stern Matthew Strux held himself aloof from his English
colleagues, and Emery and Zorn took many walks in the
neighbourhood. The firmest friendship united these two,
and they believed that nothing could break the closeness of
their sympathy.
On the 30th the eagerly-expected messenger arrived. He
was a native of Kilmaine, a town by the delta of the
Zambesi. A merchantman from the Mauritius, trading in
gum and ivory, had landed on that coast early in July, and
delivered the despatches for the missionaries. The papers
were dated two months back, for the native had taken
four weeks to ascend the Zambesi.
On the arrival of the messenger, the principal of the
mission had handed to Colonel Everest a bundle of
European newspapers, chiefly the Times, the Daily News,
and the Journal des Débats. The intelligence they contained
had, under the circumstances, a special importance,
and produced an unexpected emotion among the entire
party.
The members of the Commission were altogether in the
chief room of the mission. Colonel Everest drew out the
Daily News for the 13th of May, with the intention of
reading aloud to his colleagues. Scarcely had he glanced
at the first leading article, when his brow contracted, and
the paper trembled in his hand. In a few moments he
recovered his usual composure.
“What does the paper say, Colonel?” asked Sir John.
“It is grave news, gentlemen,” said the Colonel, “that
I have to communicate.”
He kept the paper in his hand, and his colleagues waited
eagerly for him to speak. To the surprise of all he rose,
and, advancing to Matthew Strux, said,—
“Before communicating the intelligence conveyed in
this paper, I should wish to make an observation to you.”
“I am ready to hear any thing you may say,” said
Strux, much astonished.
The Colonel then said solemnly,—
“Mr. Strux, hitherto there has been between us a rivalry
more personal than scientific, which has rendered our cooperation
in the common cause somewhat difficult. This,
I believe, is to be attributed to the fact of there being two
of us at the head of this expedition. To avoid antagonism,
there should be only one chief to every enterprise. You
agree with me, do you not?”
Strux bowed in assent. The Colonel went on,—
“This position, unpleasant for each of us, must, through
recent circumstances, now be changed. First, sir, let me
say that I esteem you highly, as your position in the
scientific world demands. I beg you to believe that I
regret all that has passed between us.”
These words were uttered with great dignity, even with
pride. There was no humiliation in the voluntary apology,
so nobly expressed, and neither Strux nor his colleagues
could guess his motive. Perhaps the Russian, not having
the same incentive, was not equally disposed to forget any
personal resentment. However, mastering his ill-feeling,
he replied,—
“With you, Colonel, I think that no rivalry on our part
should be permitted to injure the scientific work with
which we are entrusted. I likewise hold you in the esteem
that your talents deserve, and in future I will do all in my
power to efface any personality from our relations. But
you spoke of a change; I do not understand—”
“You will soon be made to understand, Mr. Strux,”
replied the Colonel, with a touch of sadness in his tone,
“but first give me your hand.”
“Here it is,” rejoined Strux, with a slight hesitation.
Without another word the astronomers joined hands.
“Now you are friends,” cried Sir John.
“Alas! no,” said the Colonel, dropping the Russian's
hand; “henceforth we are enemies, separated by an abyss
which must keep us apart even on the territory of science.”
Then turning to his colleagues, he added,—
“Gentlemen, war is declared between England and
Russia, See, the news is conveyed by these English,
French, and Russian newspapers.
And, in truth, the war of 1854 had begun. The English,
with their allies the French and Turks, were fighting before
Sebastopol, and the Eastern question was being submitted
to the ordeal of a naval conflict on the Black Sea.”
The Colonel's words fell like a thunderbolt. The English
and Russians, with their strong sentiment of nationality,
started to their feet. Those three words, “War is declared,”
were enough. They were no longer companions united in
a common labour, but already eyed one another as avowed
antagonists. Such is the influence of these national duels
on the heart of man. An instinctive impulse had divided
the Europeans—Nicholas Palander himself yielding to the
feeling: Emery and Zorn alone regarded each other with
more of sadness than animosity, and regretted that they
had not shaken hands before Colonel Everest's communication.
No further conversation ensued; exchanging
bows, English and Russians retired.
This novel situation, although it would not interrupt the
survey, would render its continuation more difficult. For
the interest of its country, each party desired to pursue
the operations; but the measurements must be carried
along two different meridians. In a formal interview subsequently
arranged between the chiefs, it was decided by
lot that the Russians should continue the meridian already
begun, while the English should choose an arc 60 or 80
miles to the west, and unite it to the first by a series of
auxiliary triangles; they would then continue their survey
as far as lat. 20°.
All these arrangements were made without any outbreak:
personal rivalry was swallowed up by national
feeling, and the Colonel and Strux did not exchange an
uncivil word, but kept within the strictest limits of
politeness.
The caravan was equally divided, each party preserving
its own stores. The steam-boat fell by lot to the Russians.
Mokoum, especially attached to Sir John, followed the
English caravan. The pioneer, equally experienced,
headed the Russians. Each party retained its instruments
and one of the registers.
On the 31st of August the Commission divided. The
English cordially thanked the missionaries for their kind
hospitality, and started first to connect their last station
with their new meridian.
If, before their departure, any one had entered the
privacy of the inner room, he would have seen Emery
grasping the hand of Zorn, once his friend, but now, by
the will of their Majesties the Queen of England and the
Czar of Russia, no longer friend, but foe.
