The Enchanted City, page 9
For myself, I’ll reserve the supervision of the equipment, construction work, topographical measurements, making drawings and sketches, and writing the log.”
It was in accordance with that program that the organization of the expedition had proceeded. The organization was easy, because they had at their disposal for that purpose a sum of five hundred thousand francs originating from a legacy from the late Admiral . Thanks to the munificence of that excellent man, lost prematurely to science, the explorers had not had to worry about questions of money.
At the beginning of January 1875 Commandant Beautemps-Fresnel had charted the Biafra of Liverpool, one of the fastest ships of the Africa Steamship Company, which operated the service to Madeira, Tenerife and the West Coast of Africa, and had ordered the fitting out of the powerful vessel.
The baggage train designed to accompany the voyagers in the course of their expedition had been formed according to a judicious method that might stand as a model of its kind. The material objects, chosen with the greatest discernment, as many in France as in England, had been classified under distinct headings, such as clothing, camping equipment, subsistence, medicine, lighting, weapons, tools, instruments of observation, various apparatuses, money, trade goods, musical instruments, children’s toys, etc. A few special crates enclosed a library of books of Africa bequeathed by the Admiral, stuffed with precious documents.
All this material, divided into a large number of parcels, each light enough not to exceed the load of two men, had been collected and stowed aboard the Biafra. The embarkation had been completed on 22 March.
Commandant Fresnel had, at the same time, proceeded with the recruitment of good personnel. In spite of his strict standards regarding age, health, temperament, character, knowledge and professional devotion, he had succeeded in recruiting nine former long-haul captains or naval officers, four naturalist-physicians and four missionary-chaplains.
He had also hired twenty-five artisan workers: carpenters, mechanics, smiths, weavers and agriculturalists. Finally, he had gone in quest of a cook. Having excellent reasons for obtaining a good one, he had, acting on precise information, made a sumptuous offer to Isidore, then sous-chef at the Grand Hotel. The echoes of that edifice had retained the memory of the dialogue that had taken place between the contracting parties.
“Your name is Isidore Chauvelot?”
“Present, Commandant. That’s it. My father was named Chauvelot, my godfather Isidore, with the result that…”
“You’ve served in the zouaves?”
“I’m proud to have done so, Commandant, and pleased. Yes, I spent five years with the 1st jackals, third of the two. No punishments, clean record and a certificate—here it is….”
“I know that your conduct in the regiment was good; you’re also a meritorious cook….”
“Meritorious! Oh, the Commandant is very kind. I’m only a scientist, for what is cooking, after all, but advanced chemistry? Only a scientist!”
“So be it. Would you like to enter my service?”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m undertaking a long voyage.”
“I’m with you, Commandant.”
“A longer voyage than you doubtless suppose; I’m leaving for Africa.”
“Oh, as for Africa, it’s a long time since I was there the first time. I can say that I know it well. I began my stint at Koleah. Then I was sent on detachment to Medeah, and then to Laghouat, and then….”
“It’s not a matter of Algeria, but a region that neither you nor I know; I’m talking about equatorial Africa.”
“Equa…oh, that’s different, that must be in the south.”
“A long way south of Medeah, and even of Laghouat. I owe you the whole truth. Many voyagers who have gone into that region haven’t come back.”
“The imbeciles!”
“The country that I’m proposing to explore is doubtless populated by anthropophages.”
“Anthropo…?”
“People who eat human flesh, and might, in consequence, eat you.”
“Eat me? Me, a cook! A man who enables others to eat! I’d like to see that!”
“That’s not all. We’ll have to brave wild beasts, live under a leaden sun—a sun whose ardent rays will subject us relentlessly to a frightful ambient temperature.”
“Oh, of course, of course, if it’s ambient, that’s something else! But come on, Commandant, what do you expect me to do about it?”
“We’ll have to endure fatigue, hunger and thirst.”
“As long as we can smoke!”
“We’ll suffer from fever; our lives will be incessantly exposed to perils of every sort.”
“You’re telling me so much, Commandant, that you’ll end up making me believe that you think Isidore Chauvelot can be scared.”
“I repeat that we’ll be running countless dangers, and for two or three years.”
“Two or three years! It’s longer than going around the world, then?”
“You’ve been warned—think about it.”
“It’s done, Commandant; I’m your man.”
“Good—sign this contract.”
The Grand Hotel’s cook had then placed at the bottom of the piece of paper that was held out to him a signature ornamented with the most improbable calligraphic flourishes, saying to himself complacently: He’s good one, the Commandant, if he thinks he can scare Isidore Chauvelot!
Thus had been sealed the pact that linked Isidore to his master.
All the people called upon to take part in the expedition had been summoned to Paris for the 20 March; they all made the rendezvous. On 25 March, after receiving a telegram informing him that the fitting out was complete, Commandant Fresnel, having given his orders for departure, left for Liverpool himself with his domestic, Joseph, and his new cook, Isidore.
As they were about to leave Paris, the former sous-chef at the Grand Hotel, the savant chemist, had been somewhat surprised to hear Joseph asking the coachman to take them to the Gare du Nord.
“What! The Gare du Nord!” he had exclaimed. “But that doesn’t make sense, since we’re going south, into the ambient temperature!”
And when Joseph had sketched a smile, he had added, to himself: Well, now there’s a chap getting his four cardinal points mixed up. He doesn’t even know his physics!
The personnel of the expeditionary corps having been duly embarked, all the material objects being in order, the Biafra had made haste to put on steam, and, her pressure obtained, to quit her moorings. The departure from Liverpool had been affected in the evening of 30 March 1875, and a week later, the voyagers had made a port of call at Madeira.
During the journey, an amicable acquaintance had been struck up between Isidore and Professor Cornelius. The aura of an irresistible attraction drew toward one another those two men from two different worlds, in terms of their social condition, status and intelligence. By virtue of the force that sometimes resides in the law of contrasts, they proved sympathetic. Such a derogation of the usual pattern of life would have remained absolutely inexplicable to the other passengers if they had not divined that a contract of exchange had been agreed between the two parties.
In the manner of an illustrious painter whose unique pretention was being able to play the violin, the former sous-chef at the Grand Hotel, the doctor of sauces, had the mania of taking himself seriously, of listening to himself and admiring himself when, under the pretext of seeking to educate himself, he talked about science or literature. Now, the eminent professor of the Collège de France, the prince of the scientific world, lent an indulgent ear to the cook’s blunders, corrected the most monstrous of his enormities in an affable tone and gently pruned his fantastic errors. More than that—he sometimes let them go.
From what source was the good professor—a man who often treated his best students and laureates of the Institute harshly—drawing these treasures of extreme indulgence? It is necessary to say, to his credit or his shame, that the excellent Cornelius had a chronic affliction. “One does not choose to be a gourmand,” Brillat-Savarin said. Well, without wanting to be, the professor was a gourmand; he was infatuated with the delicacies so nicely concocted by Isidore’s hand, and, out of respect for the indisputable talents of such a laboratory assistant, he let his fantasies pass, allowed him to chatter, pampered him like a favorite student whose tutor he was. With the result that between the contracting parties it had been tacitly stipulated that one would do the science, the other the cookery, and that, in those conditions, everything would be for the best. On witnessing the fact of that admirable concord, which was perhaps his work, Commandant Fresnel had carefully refrained from smiling.
From Madeira they had headed for Saint Louis in Senegal, where they had enrolled the spahi Mimoun-ben-Abdallah, whom destiny called one day to be the chief of the French cook’s general staff.
From Saint Louis, the Biafra had descended to the equator, traveling along the coast.
In Monrovia, they had engaged the Krouman Biribis and the Ashanti Amonquatia; at Kibinda, all the chiefs of the secondary services had been taken on: Samanou, Dede, Popo, Ambacca, Punha, Kalkali and Congo.
After a long coastal navigation the Biafra had finally moored at Saint Paul de Loanda on 28 May 1875.
It was at Saint Paul that they had enrolled guides and pagazis—baggage porters—among whom was Chocolat, a hungry individual whose adventures were to make him famous. Isidore was proud of having invented him. Having heard him babbling in kitchen Latin, having seen him lifting enormous weights on the quay and then swallowing heaps of nourishment, the cook had said to Monsieur Fresnel:
“Commandant, without commanding you, I have a few words to say to you. You see that great imbecile over there? Well, he isn’t as stupid as he looks. He takes responsibility, that one, for juggling with bales. And with regard to mangearia, I can vouch for his capacity. It’s better than the old story of the cuirassiers of the guard. Hire me that fellow, and you won’t be sorry.”
And Chocolat had been enrolled in the list of the expedition’s agents.
They had only remained at the dock at Saint Paul for the time strictly necessary for recruitment and renewal of food supplies, in addition to the official visits due to the Portuguese authorities. That done, they hastened to raise the anchor.
Having set a southward course once again, the Biafra had entered into the Kwanza, the river so well explored by Mr. Alexanderson of the Geographical Society of London.29
Going up the river, which was regularly traveled by a number of English vessels, the French expedition had arrived at Cambambe, a Portuguese outpost on the right bank 180 miles from the mouth. There the river navigation had ended, for it is above Cambambe that the Kwanza is blocked by the first cataract. Now, as Isidore said, who had heard mention of it at the Grand Hotel, “to operate on the cataract of a river would be the ultimate challenge to an oculist’s talent—and that kind of talent doesn’t run around the streets.”
In consequence, the Biafra had stopped.
Once the equipment was disembarked, they hastened to proceed with the organization of the caravan, and to distribute to the Kabindards, or people of Kabinda, the employments that they were able to fulfill.
Samanou had been appointed mossenga—which is to say, chief of the advance guard and enchanter of wild beasts; Dede djemadar, or military commander of the caravan’s blacks; Kalkali captain of the Biribis; Ambacca the chief of the guides; Popo and Congo general overseers of the pagazis recruited in Saint Paul. The latter were divided into brigades of between thirty and forty men, each obedient to a sub-chief responsible to Popo and Congo. Amonquatia had been made flag-bearer, Mimoun instituted as orderly in the tent of the general staff. Finally, Isidore, having had Chocolat set outside the ranks, had attributed him to himself in the capacity of scullion.
On 22 June the caravan had quit Cambambe; on the thirtieth it had arrived at Pedras, a small redoubt situated at 15° east longitude and 9°5ʹ south latitude. It was the last outpost defending the line of the Kwanza, the last barrier opposed by civilization to barbarity. Beyond it, Portuguese influence was only slightly felt.
Having crossed that limit, it was necessary to establish a good operational base. To that effect, Commandant Fresnel had bought a spacious house built in stone, like the European houses in Saint Paul, in a little village extending to the south of Pedras. There he had established a trading post, a provision store, a guesthouse, an infirmary, etc.
Having made these arrangements, the Commandant, essentially intent on only launching forth into the unknown with determined men, had sounded out all his traveling companions one after another. To the irresolute he offered repatriation, still possible while they were at Pedras, the base of operations; to all he declared himself ready to release them from the undertakings made, to tear up all contracts without bitterness.
Isidore having received the mission of questioning Chocolat on that subject, the latter had responded: “Jurejurando, Señor Isidore, me trabandjat the service et nunc et semper….”
“What a fellow! Strong as a Turk. And able to speak English like a Spanish bufile!”
“Dona nobis of the pancake.”
“Oh, of course, after he’s done his work, indefatigable for repose and good nourishment! I truly don’t know what he has in his belly. Here, you great lump, have a couple of biscuits.”
“Gratias agamus, Señor Isidore, but you mirae pitaem nostrum sine condituris…”
“Turis? Ah! Tu ris! I don’t understand, but I know what you mean. Here, catch these twenty centimeters of sausage, and don’t come back too often.”
“Et nunc et semper,” the mulatto had repeated, hearing his solemn oaths affirmed.
And everyone had expressed intentions in conformity with those of Chocolat.
No one, therefore, took back the word he had given. On the contrary, all of them, Frenchmen and indigenes alike, manifested a vigorous enthusiasm. Monsieur Fresnel, quite satisfied, had therefore been able, on 5 July 1875, to exclaim: “Everything’s ready; may God protect us. Let’s go! Forward march!”
Chapter XII
The French in the Heart of Africa
On 25 July 1875, therefore, the caravan had quit Pedras to head into the east of Angola, traveling up the right bank of the upper Kwanza.
On the twenty-sixth of September, three months after leaving Pedras, it had reached the pass of Kisala, in the vicinity of Kiboukoue—which is to say, the summit of the mountainous cushion limiting the occidental littoral. A few days after that, on the second of October, it had reached the famous souk of Kanika on the oriental slope, the largest market in the region.
There Monsieur Fresnel had obtained from the indigenes the land necessary for the creation of a permanent establishment, a zeriba. The expedition’s personnel had immediately set to work. Assisted by the Kabindards, the workers had rapidly constructed a large wooden house, outhouses, workshops, storehouses, stables and animal pens: all the accessory buildings that comprise an agricultural exploitation.
The personnel destined for the establishment comprised a station commander, a second in command, a naturalist-physician, a missionary-chaplain, a carpenter, a smith, a weaver and three agriculturists. In accordance with a decision made by Monsieur Fresnel, that first post was named Maizan, in memory of the young ship’s ensign, a former pupil of the École Polytechnique who, having made plans to traverse the African continent from east to west in 1845, had been murdered in the Ouzaramo.30
At the end of November, the zeriba was finished, provided with a good defensive organization, armed with a cannon and linked to Pedras by a service of indigenous couriers.
Then Commandant Fresnel had judged that he could leave the station of Maizan to itself, permitting it to live its own life in exchange for certain resources left at his disposal.
At the moment when he was preparing, in consequence, to take his leave of the personnel of the zeriba to guide other French colonists eastwards, he had received information that a white voyager had recently passed not far from the frontier of Kinoukoue, that the voyager in question was marching in a direction parallel to the one that the French expedition was following, but that the march in question was being undertaken in the opposite direction.
Who was that European? Captain Harry Fox? No. Commandant Fresnel was to learn later that it was another Englishman, an intrepid officer who, at the price of superhuman efforts, had just traversed the foot of equatorial Africa. That voyager, who would arrive at Saint Paul on 21 November 1875, was Lieutenant Cameron.
On the eighth of December, Commandant Fresnel had said farewell to his friends at Maizan in order to undertake, with the rest of his traveling companions, the descent of the eastern slope of the coastal mountain chain. On 5 February 1876, he had made the acquaintance of the city of Kabebe, situated at 8° 3´ south latitude and 21° 8´ east longitude, and had obtained authorization to colonize a zone on the outskirts of the capital of Oulounda.
They had immediately begun work on the new station. Established on a delightful site on the edge of a wood overlooking an immense savannah, the second French zeriba had been named Le Saint, in memory of a compatriot, a young officer who, departing from Egypt and heading toward Gabon, had died in the Nile Valley on 27 January 1868.31
The Le Saint station was endowed with personnel equivalent to that of Maizan. In the last days of March, the establishment was completed, armed with a cannon, linked to Maizan by a corporation of Oulounda couriers, and placed under the special protection of the Mata Yafa, the sovereign of Oulounda.
On 2 April 1876, the personnel of the expedition, already considerably reduced and lightened to the extent of the equipment employed in the organization of the two permanent stations, had quit the zeriba of Le Saint to push forward in an easterly direction. It had crossed the Koné, then the Konn-da-Iroungo, imposing chains of mountains whose system encloses the upper reaches of the Loufira. Having reached the eastern slopes of the Konn-da-Iroungo, it had gone into the region of Oulounda of which the Mata Yafa had delegated the authority to a cazembe, or viceroy.
