THE START—MOMBASA TO TAITA. 
49 
too long to be undertaken in a day, and bad cbosen 
this pleasant spot to repose in during tlie sultry bours. 
I called on the laggards to take up their burdens and 
go on; I maintained that I alone had the power to 
order a halt; that the morning was still fresh, and 
that if we rested now we should never reach the 
water-place by nightfall—in vain, T w'as only met with 
sullen looks and murmurs of dissent. 
Now was the crisis in which my authority was to be 
asserted or for ever to be subordinated to the men’s ca¬ 
prices. The Zanzibaris were waiting to see how I should 
act, and would gauge my disposition by the way in which 
I met my first difficulties. In fact, the scene in which 
this conflict of wills took place was not ill-disposed for 
effect. A slight depression or basin was sunk in the 
centre of the clearing, in which the dissentient porters 
and their loads were grouped, and around ran an 
amphitheatre-like rise of ground, whereon stood a file 
of Zanzibaris awaiting the outcome of our dispute 
before taking sides. No longer addressing an in¬ 
discriminate crowd, I called on one man to pick up his 
burden and take the road. He promptly and curtly 
refused, and as quickly my Indian servant had him by 
the heels, whilst I soundlv trounced him with his own 
walking-stick. This was quite a sufficient display of 
force. Whilst the recalcitrant porter was still scream¬ 
ing abjectly for pardon, and I was still gravely count¬ 
ing the strokes of the wand—eight!—nine!—ten!—* 
eleven!—the other men had hoisted their loads on 
their bullet-heads, and were falling into file along the 
narrow path, leaving my servant and myself alone with 
the victim of our wrath. The very hammock-men 
had disappeared, and hurried forward in an excess of 
zeal. But I was almost independent of them now. 
