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Updated: July 4, 2025
Neither Kennedy nor I having anything definite to contribute to the subject, the conversation drifted to the islands and Whitson's mission. Whitson proved to be very enthusiastic about it. He knew the islands well and had already made a trip there for Marlowe. A few moments later we shook hands and returned to our own table.
Should I take all this trouble if I did not know what I were doing?" They walked all night, only resting once or twice for a few minutes. It was found that Ghamba, in spite of his age, was an extremely good walker; and when they halted at daylight, Langley was so done up that he could not have held out for another half-hour. Whitson, the wiry, had not yet felt the least fatigue.
These two men lying dead are my sons, and that woman is my daughter. My four wives were here to-night. They are very old women. Have you not seen them?" he asked, looking at Whitson. "They are in there; I shot them," said Whitson, pointing to the cave. "I had other children," continued Ghamba, quite unmoved, "but we ate them when food was scarce."
Whitson drew his revolver, and picking up the torch went into the terminal chamber. Four shots, fired in quick succession, reverberated immediately afterward through the cavern. Whitson then went outside to Langley, whom he found sitting down near the fire, looking if possible, more ghastly than before.
When Ghamba volunteered to relieve them of a considerable share of their respective loads, Langley and Whitson were filled with grateful surprise. The plan was as follows: Whitson was to shoot Umhlonhlo, and then remain in the cave while Langley returned to the camp to report what had been done, and cause persons who could identify the body to be sent for.
The Ericksons had just driven up with Burleigh and Leontine, as well as Whitson, all of whom were stopping at our hotel, and were about to take Sydney on to the consulate when the approach of the storm warned them to stay.
I made the preliminary surveys for this project and for the Whitson. I tell you, Manning, that's the greatest work in the world getting out into the wilderness and finding the right spot for civilization to come and thrive. There's where you get a sense of power that makes you feel like a Pilgrim Father. The Reclamation Service is a great pipe dream.
The part of Lancaster County in which I lived was near Chester County. Not far away, in the latter county, lived Moses Whitson, a well-known Abolitionist, and a member of the Society of Friends. Mr. Whitson had a colored girl living in his family, who was pounced upon by the slaveholders, awhile after the Dorsey arrest. About daylight three men went to Mr.
"None in particular, except that he has not signalled a single one of Sergeant-Major Pumpherston's shots!" replies the Captain of D, with crushing simplicity. "Half a mo'!" replies Wagstaffe.... Then, presently "Hallo! Are you there, Whitson?" "Yes. We are still here," Captain Whitson assures him frigidly. "Right.
He stooped and picked one up, but dropped it immediately, as if it burnt him. It was the lower jawbone of a human being. "Great God!" he gasped. "What is the meaning of this?" "It means," said Whitson, "that we are in a nest of bloody cannibals."
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