At Makwira's we reluctantly bade farewell to Mr. H. C. MacDonald, whose dry humour and all-embracing hospitality had made my weary sojourn in Chiromo one of the most delightful stages in our journey. The company on the steamer was rather embarrassed by the extravaganzas of an evangelical madman, who had arrived in the country in a state of destitution, and who is probably by now, under the title D.B.S., a burden on the community. Such men should be caged, or at least prevented from running loose amongst the natives, and adding to the already well-nigh insuperable difficulties of the administration.
A few hours' run brought us to Katunga's, the African Lakes Corporation's port for Blantyre. The Government station is a little distance further up the river. The crocodiles, which were very numerous, had been causing much mortality amongst the natives; one had even seized the station's bucket, which, for greater safety, was lowered into the river to draw water from the end of a long pole.
The Government station is the highest navigable point of the river south of the rapids, and everything has to be unshipped and carried round to the upper river by native porters or wagons. From Katunga's to Blantyre there is a well-constructed road, with a half-way house belonging to the African Lakes Corporation. Captain Rhoades, of the B.C.A. navy, accompanied me in a mule-cart, and we arrived at Blantyre, the commercial centre of B.C.A., about sunset. The road quickly mounts from the Shiré valley on to the plateau of the highlands. Looking back over the valley from the edge of the plateau the view is superb; and much of the scenery through which the road passes is very beautiful. Most of the highlands are covered with woods, which at that season were in the full glory of their vernal tints; the grass was springing up green, and carpeted with millions of beautiful purple flowers resembling crocuses. There were many specimens of the mahobahoba tree, or wild loquat: the timber of this tree is much prized for telegraph poles and similar uses; and the broad dark-green leaves are exceedingly handsome. We passed several comfortable-looking homesteads belonging to coffee-planters, and the fields of neatly-planted coffee-shrubs staggering under their burden of snowy blossom made me fancy that I was back in the fruit-farms of Kent.
Coffee is the great industry of British Central Africa, and one that is likely to bring the little protectorate into the vanguard of our new possessions in the near future. The quality is second to none; some of the crops have realized the highest price on the London markets. At present the industry is more or less paralyzed, owing to the majority of the planters having started operations on borrowed capital, and, with one or two exceptions, without previous experience of coffee. But as soon as the plantations are put on a sound business footing the prosperity of the community should be assured, always provided that the administration, by judicious legislation as to rate of pay for labourers, prevents the labour market from being spoilt. The present rate of pay is three shillings a month, and a rise must be prevented at all costs. The labour supply, properly handled, should prove well-nigh inexhaustible, and, owing to the immigration from the Portuguese sphere, is steadily increasing. I was informed by many men that the first crop should pay the expenses of the first three years during which there is no yield. This is a magnificent return, and by judicious combines, capitalization, and concentration, Nyassa coffee should become an important industry. The coffee being of such quality, is only used for blending at present, so that there is little chance of over-production. It is one of the few African countries that has natural easy communication with the coast, and when a light railway has been built, and shipping and agency have been properly organized, the cost of transport will be very small. There is also undoubtedly great scope for subsidiary and supplementary industries, such as cocoa and rubber.
I consider that in British Central Africa there is an excellent opening for British capital--an opening that appears to be as yet practically unknown at home. The fact is that Africa is supinely neglected where it cannot flaunt the magic war-cry, Gold. The Germans, who are ever on the alert, are already alive to its possibilities, and there were rumours of a great coffee combine financed by well-known German East Coast capitalists. It is to be hoped that England will awake to the chance before the ground has been cut from under her feet, as has already been done in so many places that I have visited. The wily Teuton is very much alive to the advantages afforded by British rule, and has already levied heavy toll on the budding possibilities of trade in our African dominions. Our trouble is that, with few exceptions, we do not send out the right men, but consider that any one is good enough for Africa. This is far from being the case, as new business lines have to be adopted to ensure success. Adaptability and enterprise belong to genius and not to mediocrity, and no country requires a more delicately-adjusted combination of dash, tact, and perseverance than Africa.
There is a passable hotel in Blantyre, and many fine buildings in brick. The missionaries have built a large church, and laid out avenues of eucalyptus which have grown wonderfully well. Unfortunately, as in Rhodesia, the white ants attack the roots when the trees attain a certain height. Extensive plantations would unquestionably considerably modify the climate, which is far from good. The worst type of hæmoglobinuric fever is very prevalent, and the death-rate is consequently high. However, as more and more land is brought under cultivation, the country should become healthier. Probably much of the fever that prevails is brought from the lowlands, which must be traversed before arriving in the higher altitudes: an improved service with the coast will obviate this to some extent. At Blantyre I met with much kindness at the hands of Mr. Codrington, the Commissioner of Northern Rhodesia, Major Harding, C.M.G., who had been recruiting Angonis for the B.S.A. Police, and Mr. Wilson of the Trans-Continental Telegraph, an old school and Cambridge friend, whom I was much surprised to find in this out-of-the-way corner of the world. Three days later I left with Mr. Hall of the African Flotilla Company in machilas for Zomba, the administrative capital. We were to spend the night at the Nomasi river, which we reached in a torrential downpour. Our delight, when we discovered that the transport people had sent our tents and provisions by the wrong road, may be imagined. Fortunately we learned that Mr. Harrison, whom we had met on the river, was camped in the vicinity, and he kindly provided us with a shakedown and something to eat. The following day we reached Zomba, having passed through many flourishing coffee estates. Here Mr. C. C. Bowring put us up and plied us with all the obtainable luxuries and comforts, in the intervals of a fight to the death with a swarm of irate bees who had taken possession of the interior of the wall of his house. The view across Lake Shirwa and the forests that clothe the flat plains which surround the lake ranks amongst the finest that I have seen in Africa. Vast purple masses of hills enclose the placid lake and its forest-clad plains, and the eye roams on over an infinity of broken upland and shimmering haze. The Government House is a large picturesque building standing in the midst of a well-planted tropical garden, which had, however, been lately ravaged by a flight of locusts. There was tennis accompanied by a tea-party, presided over by Miss Harrison, who has nursed many a sick man back to life, and it seemed as if I had suddenly dropped back into civilized England. After two pleasant days spent in these unwonted surroundings, I started in a machila for Liwonde on the Upper Shiré, where I arrived at sunset, and was entertained by Mr. Drummond Hay, an old "Herzog" friend. I am much shocked to hear that he has since fallen a victim to the climate.
From Liwonde the S.S. Monteith took me to Fort Johnston, which is the port of Lake Nyassa, and is situated a few miles south of the bar at the outlet of the lake. A short distance from Fort Johnston the river opens out and forms the small lake Pamalomba, formerly a great haunt of elephant. The lake is very shallow, and as the steamer passes along, the disturbed mud emits enormous volumes of marsh gas: so great is the quantity that the water has the appearance of violently boiling. There have been several instances of men being blown out of their cabins, owing to their having ignited the gas by absent-mindedly striking a match. When Sharp passed with Mr. Mohun, somebody threw a lighted match overboard. Instantly a sheet of flame passed over the barge that was being towed alongside, and two saddles were seriously burnt.
As we arrived at Fort Johnston late in the evening, I elected to sleep on board, and was much gratified to find that two couples of married German missionaries, not content with having monopolized the only two cabins, had rigged