The Man-Eaters of Tsavo | Page 5

a large fleet of Arab dhows,
which completely surrounded the island. In spite of plague, treachery
and famine, the little garrison held out valiantly in Jesus Fort, to which

they had been forced to retire, until December 12, 1698, when the
Arabs made a last determined attack and captured the citadel, putting
the remnant of the defenders, both men and women, to the sword. It is
pathetic to read that only two days later a large Portuguese fleet
appeared off the harbour, bringing the long-looked-for reinforcements.
After this the Portuguese made several attempts to reconquer Mombasa,
but were unsuccessful until 1728, when the town was stormed and
captured by General Sampayo. The Arabs, however, returned the next
year in overwhelming numbers, and again drove the Portuguese out;
and although the latter made one more attempt in 1769 to regain their
supremacy, they did not succeed.
The Arabs, as represented by the Sultan of Zanzibar, remain in nominal
possession of Mombasa to the present day; but in 1887 Seyid Bargash,
the then Sultan of Zanzibar, gave for an annual rental a concession of
his mainland territories to the British East Africa Association, which in
1888 was formed into the Imperial British East Africa Company. In
1895 the Foreign Office took over control of the Company's
possessions, and a Protectorate was proclaimed; and ten years later the
administration of the country was transferred to the Colonial Office.
The last serious fighting on the island took place so recently as 1895-6,
when a Swahili chief named M'baruk bin Rashed, who had three times
previously risen in rebellion against the Sultan of Zanzibar, attempted
to defy the British and to throw off their yoke. He was defeated on
several occasions, however, and was finally forced to flee southwards
into German territory. Altogether, Mombasa has in the past well
deserved its native name of Kisiwa M'vitaa, or " Isle of War"; but under
the settled rule now obtaining, it is rapidly becoming a thriving and
prosperous town, and as the port of entry for Uganda, it does a large
forwarding trade with the interior and has several excellent stores
where almost anything, from a needle to an anchor, may readily be
obtained.
Kilindini is, as I have said, on the opposite side of the island, and as its
name -- "the place of deep waters" -- implies, has a much finer harbour
than that possessed by Mombasa. The channel between the island and

the mainland is here capable of giving commodious and safe anchorage
to the very largest vessels, and as the jetty is directly connected with
the Uganda Railway, Kilindini has now really become the principal
port, being always used by the liners and heavier vessels.
I had spent nearly a week in Mombasa, and was becoming very anxious
to get my marching orders, when one morning I was delighted to
receive an official letter instructing me to proceed to Tsavo, about one
hundred and thirty-two miles from the coast, and to take charge of the
construction of the section of the line at that place, which had just then
been reached by railhead. I accordingly started at daylight next morning
in a special train with Mr. Anderson, the Superintendent of Works, and
Dr. McCulloch, the principal Medical Officer; and as the country was
in every way new to me, I found the journey a most interesting one.
The island of Mombasa is separated from the mainland by the Strait of
Macupa, and the railway crosses this by a bridge about three-quarters
of a mile long, called the Salisbury Bridge, in honour of the great
Minister for Foreign Affairs under whose direction the Uganda Railway
scheme was undertaken. For twenty miles after reaching the mainland,
our train wound steadily upwards through beautifully wooded,
park-like country, and on looking back out of the carriage windows we
could every now and again obtain lovely views of Mombasa and
Kilindini, while beyond these the Indian Ocean sparkled in the glorious
sunshine as far as the eye could see. The summit of the Rabai Hills
having been reached, we entered on the expanse of the Taru Desert, a
wilderness covered with poor scrub and stunted trees, and carpeted in
the dry season with a layer of fine red dust. This dust is of a most
penetrating character, and finds its way into everything in the carriage
as the train passes along. From here onward game is more or less
plentiful, but the animals are very difficult to see owing to the thick
undergrowth in which they hide themselves. We managed, however, to
catch sight of a few from the carriage windows, and also noticed some
of the natives, the Wa Nyika, or "children of the wilderness."
At Maungu, some eighty miles from the coast, we came to the end of