The first outrage which this audacious man committed against the Arabs was the halting of an Ujiji-bound caravan, and the demand for five kegs of gunpowder, five guns, and five bales of cloth.  This extraordinary demand, after expending more than a day in fierce controversy, was paid; but the Arabs, if they were surprised at the exorbitant black-mail demanded of them, were more than ever surprised when they were told to return the way they came; and that no Arab caravan should pass through his country to Ujiji except over his dead body.

On the return of the unfortunate Arabs to Unyanyembe, they reported the facts to Sheikh Sayd bin Salim, the governor of the Arab colony.  This old man, being averse to war, of course tried every means to induce Mirambo as of old to be satisfied with presents; but Mirambo this time was obdurate, and sternly determined on war unless the Arabs aided him in the warfare he was about to wage against old Mkasiwa, sultan of the Wanyamwezi of Unyanyembe.

“This is the status of affairs,” said Khamis bin Abdullah.  “Mirambo says that for years he has been engaged in war against the neighbouring Washensi and has come out of it victorious; he says this is a great year with him; that he is going to fight the Arabs, and the Wanyamwezi of Unyanyembe, and that he shall not stop until every Arab is driven from Unyanyembe, and he rules over this country in place of Mkasiwa.  Children of Oman, shall it be so?  Speak, Salim, son of Sayf, shall we go to meet this Mshensi (pagan) or shall we return to our island?”

A murmur of approbation followed the speech of Khamis bin Abdullah, the majority of those present being young men eager to punish the audacious Mirambo.  Salim, the son of Sayf, an old patriarch, slow of speech, tried to appease the passions of the young men, scions of the aristocracy of Muscat and Muttrah, and Bedaweens of the Desert, but Khamis’s bold words had made too deep an impression on their minds.

Soud, the handsome Arab whom I have noticed already as the son of Sayd the son of Majid, spoke:  “My father used to tell me that he remembered the days when the Arabs could go through the country from Bagamoyo to Ujiji, and from Kilwa to Lunda, and from Usenga to Uganda armed with canes.  Those days are gone by.  We have stood the insolence of the Wagogo long enough.  Swaruru of Usui just takes from us whatever he wants; and now, here is Mirambo, who says, after taking more than five bales of cloth as tribute from one man, that no Arab caravan shall go to Ujiji, but over his body.  Are we prepared to give up the ivory of Ujiji, of Urundi, of Karagwah, of Uganda, because of this one man?  I say war—­war until we have got his beard under our feet—­war until the whole of Uyoweh and Wilyankuru is destroyed—­war until we can again travel through any part of the country with only our walking canes in our hands!”

The universal assent that followed Send’s speech proved beyond a doubt that we were about to have a war.  I thought of Livingstone.  What if he were marching to Unyanyembe directly into the war country?