Stories of the Gorilla Country

CHAPTER XXIII

I remember well the day when I first possessed a live gorilla. Yes, a gorilla that could roar; a young gorilla alive! He was captured not far from Cape St. Catherine, and dragged into Washington.

My hunters were five in number, and were walking very silently through the forest, when suddenly the silence was broken by the cry of a young gorilla for its mother. Everything was still. It was about noon, and they immediately determined to follow the cry.

Soon they heard the cry again. Gun in hand, the brave fellows crept noiselessly towards a clump of wood where the baby gorilla evidently was. They knew the mother would be near; and there was a likelihood that they might encounter the male also, which they dread more than they do the mother. But they determined to risk everything, and, if possible, to take the young one alive, knowing how pleased I should be, for I had been long trying to capture a young gorilla.

Presently they perceived the bush moving; and crawling a little farther on, in dead silence, scarcely breathing with excitement, they beheld what had seldom been seen even by negroes. A young gorilla was seated on the ground, as the picture shows you, eating some berries, which grew close to the earth. A few feet farther on sat the mother, also eating of the same fruit.

Instantly they made ready to fire; and none too soon, for the old female saw them as they raised their guns, and they had to pull triggers without delay. Happily, they wounded her mortally.

She fell on her face, the blood gushing from the wounds. The young one, hearing the noise of the guns, ran to his mother and clung to her, hiding his face and embracing her body. The hunters immediately rushed towards the two, hallooing with joy. How much I wished that I had been with them, and been so fortunate as to assist in the capture of a live gorilla!

Their shouts roused the little one, who, by this time, was covered with blood coming from his mother's wounds. He instantly let go of his mother and ran to a small tree, which he climbed with great agility. There he sat and roared at them savagely. They were now perplexed how to get at him. What was to be done? No one cared to run the chance of being bitten by this savage little beast. They did not want to shoot him, for they knew I should never forgive them for doing so. He would not come down the tree, and they did not care to climb it after him. At last they cut down the tree, and, as it fell, they dexterously threw a cloth over the head of the young monster, and thus gained time to secure it while it was blinded. With all these precautions, one of the men received a severe bite on the hand, and another had a piece taken out of his leg.

The little brute, though very diminutive, and the merest baby in age, was astonishingly strong, and by no means good-tempered. They found they could not lead him. He constantly rushed at them, showing fight, and manifesting a strong desire to take a piece, or several pieces, out of every one of their legs, which were his special objects of attack. So they were obliged to get a forked stick, in which his neck was inserted in such a way that he could not escape, and yet could be kept at a safe distance. It must have been very uncomfortable for him; but it was the only way of securing themselves against his nails and teeth, and thus he was brought to Washington.

The excitement in the village was intense, as the animal was lifted out of the canoe in which he had come down the river. He roared and bellowed; and looked around wildly with his wicked little eyes, giving fair warning that if he could get at any of us he would take his revenge. Of course, no one came in his way.

I saw that the stick hurt his neck, and immediately set about having a cage made for him. In two hours we had built a strong bamboo house with the slats securely tied at such a distance apart that we could see the gorilla, and it could see out. We made it as strong as we could, and I was very careful to provide against every chance of his escaping. In this cage he was immediately deposited; and now, for the first time, I had a fair chance to look at my prize.

As I approached the cage he darted at me; but I could afford to have a good laugh over him, for I knew he could not get near enough to bite me. He looked at me with very savage eyes.

I named the gorilla Joe – "Fighting Joe." He was evidently not three years old, but fully able to walk alone, and possessed, for his age, of very extraordinary strength. His height was about three feet and six inches. His hands and face were very black, his eyes were sunken. The hair on his head was of a reddish-brown colour. It began just at the eyebrows and came down the sides of the face to the lower jaw, just as our beards grow. The whiskers, if we may call them so, were of a blackish colour. The face was smooth, and intensely black. The upper lip was covered with short, coarse hair; I wondered if it was the beginning of a moustache. I found afterwards that gorillas had no moustaches. The lower lip had longer hair; and I wondered also if in time an imperial would grow there. There were eyelashes too, though these were slight and thin. The eyebrows were straight. Excepting the face, and the palms of his hands and feet, his whole body was covered with hair. On the back, the hair was of an iron grey, becoming quite dark near the arms. On the arms, the hair was longer than anywhere else on the body, as you may see by the picture.

After I had looked carefully at the little fellow, and knew well that he was safely locked in his cage, I ventured to approach him to say a few encouraging words. He stood in the farthest corner; but as I approached, he bellowed and made a precipitate rush at me. Though I retreated as quickly as I could, he succeeded in catching my trousers' legs with the toes of one of his feet, and then retreated immediately to the farthest corner. This taught me caution; I must not approach too near.

Shall I be able to tame him? I thought I should; but I was disappointed.

He sat in his corner, looking wickedly out of his grey eyes; and I never saw a more morose or ill-tempered face than this little beast had. I do not believe that gorillas ever smile.

Of course I had to attend to the wants of my captive. My first business in the morning was to attend on Joe. I sent for some of the forest berries which these animals are known to prefer, and placed these and a cup of water within his reach. He was exceedingly shy, and would neither eat nor drink till I had removed to a considerable distance.

The second day I found Joe fiercer than on the first. He rushed savagely at anyone who stood even for a moment near his cage and seemed ready to tear us to pieces. A fine specimen of man-monkey, thought I; a tiger under the disguise of a gorilla. I wondered what kind of a cage a full-grown gorilla would require. I should certainly not care to be his keeper.

I threw Joe pieces of pine-apple leaves; and I noticed that he ate only the white part. There seemed to be no difficulty about his food, as long as it was gathered from his native woods; but he refused all other kinds of food. He was very fond of bananas and ripe plantains.

The third day Joe was still more morose and savage, bellowing when any persons approached, or retiring to a distant corner to make a rush upon them.

On the fourth day, while no one was near, the little rascal succeeded in forcing apart two of the bamboo sticks which composed his cage and made his escape. I came up just as his flight was discovered, and immediately got all the negroes together for pursuit. Where had he gone? I was determined to surround the wood and recapture him. Running into my house to get one of my guns, I was startled by an angry growl issuing from under my low bedstead. It was Master Joe; there was no mistake about it; I knew his growl but too well. Master Joe lay there hid, but anxiously watching my movements. I cleared out faster than I came in. I instantly shut the windows, and called to my people to guard the door. When Joe saw the crowd of black faces he became furious; and with his eyes glaring, and every sign of rage in his little face and body, he got out from beneath the bed. He was about to make a rush at all of us. He was not afraid. A stampede of my men took place. I shut the door quickly, and left Joe master of the premises. I preferred devising some plans for his easy capture, to exposing myself and men to his terrible teeth; for the little rascal could bite very hard, and I did not care to have a piece taken out of one of my legs. How to take him was now a puzzling question. He had shown such strength and such rage already that I did not care, and none of my men seemed to care, to run the chance of getting badly beaten in a hand-to-hand struggle, in which we were pretty sure to come off the worse. Meantime, peeping through the keyhole, I saw Master Joe standing still in the middle of the room looking about for his enemies, and examining, with some surprise, the furniture. He seemed to think that he had never seen such things before. I watched with fear, lest the ticking of my clock should attract his attention, and perhaps lead him to an assault upon that precious article. Indeed, I should have left Joe in possession, but for a fear that he would destroy the many little articles of value or curiosity I had hung about the walls, and which reminded me so much of America.

Finally, seeing Joe to be quiet, I despatched some fellows for a net; and, opening the door quickly, I threw this over his head. Fortunately we succeeded at the first throw in effectually entangling the young monster, who roared frightfully, and struck and kicked in every direction under the net. So fearfully was he excited that I thought he would die in a fit of rage. I took hold of the back of his neck; two men seized his arms, and another the legs; and, thus held by four men, we could hardly manage Joe.

We carried him as quickly as we could to the cage, which had been repaired, and then once more locked him in. I never saw such a furious beast in my life as he was. He darted at everyone. He bit the bamboos of his cage. He glared at us with venomous and sullen eyes, and in every motion showed a temper thoroughly wicked and malicious.

After this Joe got worse than ever; and as good treatment only made him more morose and savage, I tried what starvation would do towards breaking his spirit. Besides, it began to be troublesome to procure his food from the woods, and I wanted him to become accustomed to civilized food, which was placed before him. But he would touch nothing of the kind. How was I to bring him to America? I could not put an African forest on board. As for his temper, after starving him for twenty-four hours, all I gained was, that he came slowly up and took some berries from the forest out of my hand and then immediately retreated to his corner to eat them. Daily attentions from me, for a fortnight more, did not bring me any further confidence from him than this. He always snarled at me; and only when very hungry would he take even his choicest food from my hand.

At the end of this fortnight I came one day to feed him, and found that he had gnawed a bamboo to pieces slily, and again made his escape. Luckily he had but just gone, for as I looked around I caught a sight of him making off on all fours, and with great speed, across the prairie for a clump of trees.

I at once gave the alarm. I called the men up, and we gave chase, taking with us all the fishing nets. He saw us, and, before we could head him off, made for another clump, which was thicker and larger. This we surrounded. He did not ascend a tree, but stood defiantly at the border of the wood. About one hundred and fifty of us surrounded him. As we moved up he began to yell, and made a sudden dash upon a poor fellow who was in advance. The fellow ran, and tumbled down in affright. By his fall he escaped the tender mercies of Joe's teeth; but he also detained the little rascal long enough for the nets to be thrown over him.

Four of us bore him again, struggling, into the village. This time I would not trust him to the cage, but fastened a small chain round his neck. This operation he resisted with all his might, and it took us quite an hour to securely chain the little fellow, whose strength was something marvellous.

Ten days after he was thus chained he died quite suddenly. He had been in good health, and ate plentifully of his natural food, which was brought every day from the forest for him. He did not seem to sicken until two days before his death. He died in some pain. To the last he continued utterly untameable, and after his chain was put on he added treachery to his other vices. He would come sometimes quite readily to eat out of my hand, but while I stood by him would suddenly – looking me all the time in the face to keep my attention – put out his foot and grasp at my leg. Several times he tore my pantaloons in this manner. A quick retreat on my part saved my legs from further injury, but I had to be very careful in my approaches. The negroes could not come near him at all without setting him in a rage. He seemed always to remember that they captured him, and to think he had experienced rather too hard treatment at their hands; but he evidently always cherished towards me also a feeling of revenge.

After he was chained I filled a half barrel with hay, and set it near him for his bed. He recognised its use at once, and it was pretty to see him shake up the hay and creep into this nest when he was tired. At night he always shook it up, and then took some hay in his hands, with which he would cover himself when he was snug in his barrel. He often moaned, for his mother perhaps, at night.

After Joe died I stuffed his body, and brought his skin and skeleton to New York, where many saw it. Around his neck, where the chain had been, the hair was worn off.

Poor Joe! I wish he had lived and become tame, so that I could have brought him home with me to show the children.

Now poor Joe can be seen stuffed in the British Museum.

CHAPTER XXIV

What have we yonder in the water? A flock of hippopotami! Their bodies look for all the world like so many old weather-beaten logs stranded on a mud-bank or a sand-bar.

Every thing was still. The sun was very hot, and all nature seemed to repose. I was concealed on the banks of the river, under a very shady tree, watching them. Suddenly, not far from me, two huge beasts rose as by enchantment to the surface of the water and rushed towards each other. Their vast and hideous mouths were opened to their utmost capacity, showing their huge crooked tusks, which gave their mouths a savage appearance. Their eyes were flaming with rage, and each of them put forth all his power to annihilate the other. They seized each other with their jaws; they stabbed and punched with their strong tusks, lacerating each other in a frightful manner; they advanced and retreated; now they were at the top of the water, and now they sank down to the bottom. Their blood discoloured the river, and their groans or grunts of rage were hideous to listen to. They showed little power of strategy, but rather a piggish obstinacy in maintaining their ground, and a frightful savageness of demeanour. The combat lasted an hour. It was a grand sight. The water around them was sometimes white with foam. At last one turned about and made off, leaving the other victorious and master of the field. A few days after, I killed a hippopotamus, and its thick hide was lacerated terribly. Doubtless it was one of the beasts I had seen fighting.

The hippopotamus is found in most of the rivers of Africa which empty themselves into the Atlantic or Indian Ocean, but in none but the Nile of those which empty themselves into the Mediterranean; and in the Nile it is only met far up the river. Many as there were of them on the Fernand-Vaz, they were more numerous on the Ogobai.

How much sport I have had with them! How often have I studied their habits! And now I must give you some account of my encounters with them.

About five miles above my little settlement at Washington there was a place in the river shallow enough for them to stand and play around, and there they remained all day playing in the deep water, sometimes diving, but for the most part standing on the shallows, with only their ugly noses or heads lifted out of the water.

One fine morning I went towards them. We approached slowly and with caution to within thirty yards of them without seeming to attract the slightest attention from the sluggish animals. One might have asked himself, "Are they hippopotami or not?" Stopping there I fired five shots, and, so far as I could see, I killed three hippopotami. The ear is one of the most vulnerable spots, and this was my mark every time.

The first shot was received with very little attention by the herd; but the struggles of the dying animal I had hit, which turned over several times and finally sank to the bottom, seemed to rouse the others, who began to plunge about and dive down into deep water. The blood of my victims discoloured the water all around, and we could not see whether those who escaped were not swimming for us.

Presently the canoe received a violent jar, and, looking overboard, we perceived that we were in the midst of the herd. "The hippopotami are coming upon us!" shouted the men; "they are going to attack us!" We pulled out of the way as fast as we could, none of us being anxious to be capsized. It would have been a comical sight to see us swimming in the midst of a flock of hippopotami, and some of us, perhaps, raised up on the back of one as he came to the surface, or lifted, maybe, with his two crooked tusks in our body.

We were soon out of the way, and looking back to see where were the animals I had killed, I saw nothing. They had sunk to the bottom, and of the three, only one was recovered. It was found two days afterwards on a little island near the river's mouth. Seeing this, I resolved never to shoot hippopotami while they are in the water, for I did not want to kill these animals for nothing; I wanted their skins and their skeletons to enrich our museums.

Some time after Joe had died, I determined to go on a night hunt after hippopotami. These animals come ashore by night to feed.

The Fernand-Vaz runs for many miles parallel with the seashore, separated from the sea by a strip of sandy prairie. On this prairie the hippopotamus feeds. He is sometimes called the sea-horse, for when his head is out of the water it looks from a distance exactly like the head of a horse. The "walk" of a herd is easily discernible. It looks very much like a regular beaten road, only their immense footprints showing who are its makers. In their track no grass grows. They always return by the same path they go out on. This gives the hunter a great advantage.

I chose moonlight night, and paddled up to the vicinity of one of these "walks." There Igala, my hunter, and I set out by ourselves. I had painted my face with a mixture of oil and soot, which is a prudent measure for a white hunter in Africa. The beasts there seem to have a singularly quick eye for anything white. I made myself look exactly like Igala. We both had black faces and black hands. I was dressed in the usual dark suit of clothes for the night; people there must not go hunting in light-coloured garments. We chose the windward side of the track, for the hippopotamus has a very keen scent, and is easily alarmed at night, feeling, probably, that on land his sluggish movements, huge bulk, and short legs have their disadvantages.

We lay down under shelter of a bush and watched. As yet none of the animals had come out of the water. We could hear them in the distance splashing about in the water, their subdued snort-like roars breaking in upon the stillness of the night in a very odd way. It was the only noise we heard – no, I cannot say the only noise, for the mosquitoes were busily buzzing around, and feeding upon us, taking advantage, apparently, of our anxiety to keep perfectly quiet.

The moon was nearly down, and the watch was getting tedious, when I was startled by a sudden groan. Peering into the distance, I saw dimly a huge animal looking doubly monstrous in the uncertain light. It was quietly eating grass, which it seemed to nibble off quite close to the ground.

There was another bush between us and our prey, and we crawled up to this in dead silence. Arrived there, we were but eight yards from the great beast. How terrible he looked! The negroes who hunt the hippopotami are sometimes killed; I thought that one of us might be killed also. The animal, if only wounded, turns savagely upon his assailants, and experience has taught the negro hunters that the only safe way to approach him is from behind. He cannot turn quickly, and thus the hunter has a chance to make good his escape. This time we could not get into a very favourable position; but I determined to have my shot nevertheless, eight yards being a safe killing distance, even with so poor a light as we had by this time.

We watched the hippopotamus intently, looking at each other as if to say, "Are you ready?" We then raised our guns slowly. Igala and I both took aim. He fired and, without waiting to see the result, ran as swiftly as a good pair of legs could carry him. I was not quite ready, but fired the moment after him, and before I could get ready for running (in which I had not Igala's practice) I saw there was no need for it. The beast tottered for a moment, and fell over with a booming sound, dead.

This closed our night's sport, as none of the herd would come this way while their companion lay there. So we returned home. Poor Igala remonstrated with me for not running as he did. It appears that running was considered one of the chief accomplishments of the hippopotamus hunter. Our good luck created great joy in the village, where meat was scarce. The men went out at daylight and brought the flesh home. Basket after basket came in, and as each one arrived all shouted except those who did not eat the hippopotamus. It is roonda for them. Some of their ancestry had a long time ago given birth to a hippopotamus, and if they were to eat any, more births of hippopotami would come to them, or they would die. These shouted, "I wish he had killed a bullock instead of a hippopotamus."

The meat does not taste unlike beef, but was not so red. It was rather coarse-grained, and in the case of this animal it was not fat. It makes a welcome and wholesome dish. I tried to have some steaks; I must say they were rather tough, and did not go down easily. The broth was better, and I enjoyed it very much. There was something novel in having hippopotamus soup.

I have killed a good many hippopotami. It is a very clumsily-built, unwieldy animal, remarkable chiefly for its enormous head, whose upper jaw seemed to be movable, like the crocodile's, and for its disproportionately short legs. The male is much larger than the female; indeed, a full-grown male sometimes attains the bulk, though not the height, of the elephant. In the larger specimens the belly almost sweeps the ground as they walk.

The feet are curiously constructed to facilitate walking among the reeds and mud of the river bottom, and swimming with ease. The hoof is divided into four short, apparently clumsy and unconnected toes; and they are able, by this breadth of foot, to walk rapidly even through the mud. I have seen them make quick progress, when alarmed, in water so deep that their backs were just at the surface.