The Albert N'Yanza, Great Basin of the Nile by Samuel White Baker (love story novels in english .txt) 📕

should be correct, as the results, after correction by Mr. Dunkin, of

the Greenwich Royal Observatory, are those now quoted. It will therefore

be interesting to compare the observations taken at the various points

on the Nile and Albert lake in the countries of Unyoro and Chopi—the

correctness of which relatively will be seen by comparison:—

1861.

Jan. 22. Rionga’s island, 80 feet above the Nile … 3,864

Jan. 25. Karuma, below the falls, river level Atadaj. . 3,996

Jan. 31. South of Karuma, river level on road to M’rooli 4,056

1864.

Feb. 21. M’rooli lat. 1 degree 38’ river level … … 4,061Ft.

Mar. 14. Albert N’yanza, lake level … … … . . 2,720Ft.

April 7. Island of Patooan (Shooa Moru) river level… . 3,195Ft.

By these observations it will be seen that from M’rooli, in lat. 1

degree 38’ to Karuma in lat. 2 degree 15’, there is a fall of sixty-five feet; say MINUS five feet, for the Karuma Falls equals sixty feet

fall in 37’ of latitude; or allowing for the great bend of the river,

twenty miles of extra course, it will be equal to about sixty statute

miles of actual river from M’rooli to Atada or Karuma Falls, showing a

fall or one foot per mile. From M’rooli to the head of the Karuma Falls

the river is navigable; thus the observations of altitudes showing a

fall of one foot per mile must be extremely accurate.

The next observations to be compared are those from Karuma Falls

throughout the westerly course of the river to the Albert lake:—

River level below Karuma Falls … … . . 3,996 feet

Rionga’s island 3,864—80 feet cliff … . . 3,784

= 212 fall. to the west.

River level at island of Patooan (Shooa Moru). 3,195

= 589 fall. from Rionga’s island.

Level of Albert lake … … … … . 2,720

= 475 fall. from Patooan to lake.

From Karuma … … … … … . . 1,276 fall.

These observations were extremely satisfactory, and showed that the

thermometer (Casella’s) behaved well at every boiling, as there was no

confusion of altitudes, but each observation corroborated the preceding.

The latitude of the island of Patooan by observation was 2 degrees 16’:

we were thus due west of Magungo, and east of Karuma Falls.

CHAPTER XIII.

TREACHEROUS DESIGNS OF THE NATIVES.

We were prisoners on the island of Patooan, as we could not procure

porters at any price to remove our effects. We had lost all our riding

oxen within a few days; they had succumbed to the flies, and the only

animal alive was already half dead; this was the little bull that had

always carried the boy Saat. It was the 8th April, and within a few days

the boats upon which we depended for our return to civilization would

assuredly quit Gondokoro. I offered the natives all the beads that I had

(about 50 lbs.) and the whole of my baggage, if they would carry us to

Shooa direct from this spot. We were in perfect despair, as we were both

completely worn out with fever and fatigue, and certain death seemed to

stare us in the face should we remain in this unhealthy spot; worse than

death was the idea of losing the boats and becoming prisoners for

another year in this dreadful land; which must inevitably happen should

we not hurry direct to Gondokoro without delay. The natives, with their

usual cunning, at length offered to convey us to Shooa, provided that I

paid them the beads in advance; the boats were prepared to ferry us

across the river, but I fortunately discovered through the woman

Bacheeta their treacherous intention of placing us on the uninhabited

wilderness on the north side, and leaving us to die of hunger. They had

conspired together to land us, but to immediately return with the boats

after having thus got rid of the incubus of their guests.

We were in a great dilemma—had we been in good health, I would have

forsaken everything but the guns and ammunition, and have marched direct

to Gondokoro on foot: but this was utterly impossible; neither my wife

nor I could walk a quarter of a mile without fainting—there was no

guide—and the country was now overgrown with impenetrable grass and

tangled vegetation eight feet high;—we were in the midst of the rainy

season—not a day passed without a few hours of deluge;—altogether

it was a most heartbreaking position. Added to the distress of mind at

being thus thwarted, there was also a great scarcity of provision. Many

of my men were weak, the whole party having suffered much from fever—

in fact, we were completely helpless.

Our guide Rabonga, who had accompanied us from M’rooli, had absconded,

and we were left to shift for ourselves. I was determined not to remain

on the island, as I suspected that the boats might be taken away, and

that we should be kept prisoners; I therefore ordered my men to take the

canoes, and to ferry us to the mainland, from whence we had come. The

headman, upon hearing this order, offered to carry us to a village, and

then to await orders from Kamrasi as to whether we were to be forwarded

to Shooa or not. The district in which the island of Patooan was

situated was called Shooa Moru, although having no connexion with the

Shooa in the Madi country to which we were bound.

We were ferried across to the main shore, and both in our respective

angareps were carried by the natives for about three miles: arriving at

a deserted village, half of which was in ashes, having been burnt and

plundered by the enemy, we were deposited on the ground in front of an

old hut in the pouring rain, and were informed that we should remain

there that night, but that on the following morning we should proceed to

our destination.

Not trusting the natives, I ordered my men to disarm them, and to retain

their spears and shields as security for their appearance on the

following day. This effected, we were carried into a filthy hut about

six inches deep in mud, as the roof was much out of repair, and the

heavy rain had flooded it daily for some weeks. I had a canal cut

through the muddy floor, and in misery and low spirits we took

possession.

On the following morning not a native was present! We had been entirely

deserted; although I held the spears and shields, every man had

absconded—there were neither inhabitants nor provisions—the whole

country was a wilderness of rank grass that hemmed us in on all sides;

not an animal, nor even a bird, was to be seen; it was a miserable,

damp, lifeless country. We were on elevated ground, and the valley of

the Somerset was about two miles to our north, the river roaring

sullenly in its obstructed passage, its course marked by the double belt

of huge dark trees that grew upon its banks.

My men were naturally outrageous, and they proposed that we should

return to Patooan, seize the canoes, and take provisions by force, as we

had been disgracefully deceived. The natives had merely deposited us

here to get us out of the way, and in this spot we might starve. Of

course I would not countenance the proposal of seizing provisions, but I

directed my men to search among the ruined villages for buried corn, in

company with the woman Bacheeta, who, being a native of this country,

would be up to the ways of the people, and might assist in the

discovery.

After some hours passed in rambling over the black ashes of several

villages that had been burnt, they discovered a hollow place, by

sounding the earth with a stick, and, upon digging, they arrived at a

granary of the seed known as “tullaboon;” this was a great prize, as,

although mouldy and bitter, it would keep us from starving. The women of

the party were soon hard at work grinding, as many of the necessary

stones had been found among the ruins.

Fortunately there were three varieties of plants growing wild in great

profusion, that, when boiled, were a good substitute for spinach; thus

we were rich in vegetables, although without a morsel of fat or animal

food. Our dinner consisted daily of a mess of black porridge of bitter

mouldy flour, that no English pig would condescend to notice, and a

large dish of spinach. “Better a dinner of herbs where love is,” &c.

often occurred to me; but I am not sure that I was quite of that opinion

after a fortnight’s grazing upon spinach.

Tea and coffee were things of the past, the very idea of which made our

mouths water; but I found a species of wild thyme growing in the

jungles, and this, when boiled, formed a tolerable substitute for tea;

sometimes our men procured a little wild honey, which, added to the

thyme tea, we considered a great luxury.

This wretched fare, in our exhausted state from fever and general

effects of climate, so completely disabled us, that for nearly two

months my wife lay helpless on one angarep, and I upon the other;

neither of us could walk. The hut was like all in Kamrasi’s country, a

perfect forest of thick poles to support the roof (I counted

thirty-two); thus, although it was tolerably large, there was but little

accommodation. These poles we now found very convenient, as we were so

weak, that we could not rise from bed without hauling by one of the

supports.

We were very nearly dead, and our amusement was a childish conversation

about the good things in England, and my idea of perfect happiness was

an English beefsteak and a bottle of pale ale; for such a luxury I would

most willingly have sold my birthright at that hungry moment. We were

perfect skeletons; and it was annoying to see how we suffered upon the

bad fare, while our men apparently throve. There were plenty of wild red

peppers, and the men seemed to enjoy a mixture of porridge and legumes a

la sauce piquante. They were astonished at my falling away on this food,

but they yielded to my argument when I suggested that a “lion would

starve where a donkey grew fat.” I must confess that this state of

existence did not improve my temper, which, I fear, became nearly as

bitter as the porridge. My people had a windfall of luck, as Saat’s ox,

that had lingered for a long time, lay down to die, and stretching

himself out, commenced kicking his last kick; the men immediately

assisted him by cutting his throat, and this supply of beef was a luxury

which, even in my hungry state, was not the English beefsteak for which

I sighed; and I declined the diseased bull.

The men made several long excursions through the country to endeavour to

purchase provisions, but in two months they procured only two kids; the

entire country was deserted, owing to the war between Kamrasi and

Fowooka. Every day the boy Saat and the woman Bacheeta sallied out and

conversed with the inhabitants of the different islands on the river;

sometimes, but very rarely, they returned with a fowl; such an event

caused great rejoicing.

We had now given up all hope of Gondokoro, and were perfectly resigned

to our fate; this, we felt sure, was to be buried in Chopi. I wrote

instructions in my journal, in case of death, and told my headman to be

sure to deliver my maps, observations, and papers to the English Consul

at Khartoum; this was my only care, as I feared that all my labour might

be lost