No sooner did the canoes touch the shore than they were seized by hundreds of willing hands and dragged up high and dry. In an instant Hatibu and his men were in the arms of their friends, who seized upon the ivory and loads to convey them to Tipolo’s house, even the women and children joining, tiny urchins of four and five begging to be allowed to carry something, no matter what, belonging to the men who had come from Manyuema.
The scene was one which it was impossible to describe. There were first of all the market-people from all parts of the shores of the lake, who in the daily market held at Kawele find a sale for their goods--fish (fresh and dried), meat, ghee, fowls, eggs, hemp from Ubwari, pottery and iron from Uvira, salt from Uvinza, ivory, and slaves--each of the tribes being distinguished by varieties in tattooing, manner of hair-dressing, and shape of their weapons. Then there were the Arabs and their followers from Zanzibar, and their Wanyamwesi porters, on this occasion suspending their buying and selling to welcome their friends who had indeed returned alive from Manyuema.
It was some hours before the ferment and turmoil caused by our arrival had calmed down, and I was feeling sad at there being no one special friend to welcome me, as even the meanest of my companions found chums and admirers to listen to the wonderful tales he had to relate; but soon I found that good fellow Hatibu had not forgotten me, for a room was cleared for me, and such a meal as even in Tipolo’s house at Nyangwe I had never dreamed of was provided for me--curry, rice, fish, beef, wheaten cakes, sweetmeats, butter, milk, coffee. If, like Jack the Giant Killer, I had been provided with a leathern wallet, or had possessed the appetites of Gargantua or Dando the oyster-eater, I could not have done justice to the meal which was spread for me. Hatibu kept on urging me to eat, saying that Kawele in Ujiji was indeed a land of plenty, and the Arabs would not be pleased unless I ate all that was sent me.
After a time Hatibu was convinced this was an impossibility, and he led me away to where the principal Arabs were assembled under the veranda of a big house to learn news of Tipolo and Manyuema, and in return to tell us what had happened since Tipolo’s brother had quitted Kawele. Every man who had gone to Manyuema was asked after by name. When told that one was dead, the response was, “It is God’s will,” and when told that one was alive, “How many slaves and how much ivory has he got?” Stories of the fight in which alone of all our party Hatibu, Bilal, and I had escaped were listened to with attention, and great was the astonishment manifested that I, a mzungu (a white man), should have survived all the difficulties and hardships I had encountered.