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

as I, and if one should die, the other would certainly follow; in fact,

this had been agreed upon, lest she should fall into the hands of

Kamrasi at my death. We had struggled to win, and I thanked God that we

had won; if death were to be the price, at all events we were at the

goal, and we both looked upon death rather as a pleasure, as affording

rest; there would be no more suffering; no fever; no long journey before

us, that in our weak state was an infliction; the only wish was to lay

down the burden.

Curious is the warfare between the animal instincts and the mind! Death

would have been a release that I would have courted, but I should have

liked that one “English beefsteak and pale ale” before I died! During

our misery of constant fever and starvation at Shooa Moru, insult had

been added to injury. There was no doubt that we had been thus deserted

by Kamrasi’s orders, as every seven or eight days one of his chiefs

arrived, and told me that the king was with his army only four days’

march from me, and that he was preparing to attack Fowooka, but that he

wished me to join him, as with my fourteen guns we should win a great

victory. This treacherous conduct, after his promise to forward me

without delay to Shooa, enraged me exceedingly. We had lost the boats at

Gondokoro, and we were now nailed to the country for another year,

should we live, which was not likely; not only had the brutal king thus

deceived us, but he was deliberately starving us into conditions, his

aim being that my men should assist him against his enemy. At one time

the old enemy tempted me sorely to join Fowooka against Kamrasi; but,

discarding the idea, generated in a moment of passion, I determined to

resist his proposals to the last. It was perfectly true that the king

was within thirty miles of us, that he was aware of our misery; and he

made use of our extremity to force us to become his allies.

After more than two months passed in this distress it became evident

that something must be done; I sent my headman, or vakeel, and one man,

with a native as a guide (that Saat and Bacheeta had procured from an

island), with instructions to go direct to Kamrasi, to abuse him

thoroughly in my name for having thus treated us, and tell him that I

was much insulted at his treating with me through a third party in

proposing an alliance. My vakeel was to explain that I was a much more

powerful chief than Kamrasi, and that if he required my alliance, he

must treat with me in person, and immediately send fifty men to

transport my wife, myself, and effects to his camp, where we might, in a

personal interview, come to terms. I told my vakeel to return to me with

the fifty men, and to be sure to bring from Kamrasi some token by which

I should know that he had actually seen him. The vakeel and Yaseen

started.

After some days, the absconded guide, Rabonga, appeared with a number of

men, but without either my vakeel or Yaseen. He carried with him a small

gourd bottle, carefully stopped; this he broke, and extracted from the

inside two pieces of printed paper, that Kamrasi had sent to me in

reply.

On examining the papers, I found them to be portions of the English

Church Service translated into (I think) the Kiswahili language, by Dr.

Krapf! There were many notes in pencil on the margin, written in

English, as translations of words in the text. It quickly occurred to me

that Speke must have given this book to Kamrasi on his arrival from

Zanzibar, and that he now extracted the leaves, and sent them to me as

the token I had demanded to show that my message had been delivered to

him. Rabonga made a lame excuse for his previous desertion; he delivered

a thin ox that Kamrasi had sent me, and he declared that his orders

were, that he should take my whole party immediately to Kamrasi, as he

was anxious that we should attack Fowooka without loss of time; we were

positively to start on the following morning! My bait had taken! and we

should escape from this frightful spot, Shooa Moru.

On the following morning we were carried in our litters by a number of

men. The ox had been killed, the whole party had revelled in good food,

and a supply sufficient for the journey was taken by my men.

Without inflicting the tedium of the journey upon the reader, it will be

sufficient to say that the country was the same as usual, being a vast

park overgrown with immense grass. Every day the porters bolted, and we

were left deserted at the charred ruins of various villages that had

been plundered by Fowooka’s people. It poured with rain; there was no

cover, as all the huts had been burnt, and we were stricken with severe

fever daily. However, after five days of absurdly slow marching, the

roar of the rapids being distinctly audible at night, we arrived one

morning at a deserted camp of about 3,000 huts, which were just being

ignited by several natives. This had been Kamrasi’s headquarters, which

he had quitted, and according to native custom it was to be destroyed by

fire. It was reported that the king had removed to another position

within an hour’s march, and that he had constructed a new camp. Although

throughout the journey from Shooa Moru the country had been excessively

wild and uncultivated, this neighbourhood was a mass of extensive

plantain groves and burnt villages, but every plantain tree had been cut

through the middle and recklessly destroyed. This destruction had been

perpetrated by Fowooka’s people, who had invaded the country, but had

retreated on the advance of Kamrasi’s army.

After winding through dense jungles of bamboos and interminable groves

of destroyed plantains, we perceived the tops of a number of grass huts

appearing among the trees. My men now begged to be allowed to fire a

salute, as it was reported that the ten men of Ibrahim’s party who had

been left as hostages were quartered at this village with Kamrasi.

Hardly had the firing commenced, when it was immediately replied to by

the Turks from their camp, who, upon our approach, came out to meet us

with great manifestations of delight and wonder at our having

accomplished our long and difficult voyage.

My vakeel and Yaseen were the first to meet us, with an apology that

severe fever had compelled them to remain in camp instead of returning

to Shooa Moru according to my orders, but they had delivered my message

to Kamrasi, who had, as I had supposed, sent two leaves out of a book

Speke had given him, as a reply. An immense amount of news had to be

exchanged between my men and those of Ibrahim; they had quite given us

up for lost, until they heard that we were at Shooa Moru. A report had

reached them that my wife was dead, and that I had died a few days

later. A great amount of kissing and embracing took place, Arab fashion,

between the two parties; and they all came to kiss my hand and that of

my wife, with the exclamation, that “By Allah, no woman in the world had

a heart so tough as to dare to face what she had gone through.” “El hamd

el Illah! El hamd el Illah bel salaam!” (“Thank God—be grateful to

God”), was exclaimed on all sides by the swarthy throng of brigands who

pressed round us, really glad to welcome us back again; and I could not

help thinking of the difference in their manner now and fourteen months

ago, when they had attempted to drive us back from Gondokoro.

On entering the village I found a hut prepared for me by the orders of

my vakeel: it was very small, and I immediately ordered a fence and

courtyard to be constructed. There were great numbers of natives, and a

crowd of noisy fellows pressed around us that were only dispersed by a

liberal allowance of the stick, well laid on by the Turks, who were not

quite so mild in their ways as my people. A fat ox was immediately

slaughtered by the vakeel commanding the Turks’ party, and a great feast

was soon in preparation, as our people were determined to fraternize.

Hardly were we seated in our hut, when my vakeel announced that Kamrasi

had arrived to pay me a visit. In a few minutes he was ushered into the

hut. Far from being abashed, he entered with a loud laugh totally

different to his former dignified manner.” Well, here you are at last!”

he exclaimed. Apparently highly amused with our wretched appearance, he

continued, “So you have been to the M’wootan N’zige! well, you don’t

look much the better for it; why, I should not have known you! ha, ha,

ha!” I was not in a humour to enjoy his attempts at facetiousness; I

therefore told him, that he had behaved disgracefully and meanly, and

that I should publish his character among the adjoining tribes as below

that of the most petty chief that I had ever seen. “Never mind,” he

replied, “it’s all over now; you really are thin, both of you;—it was

your own fault; why did you not agree to fight Fowooka? You should have

been supplied with fat cows and milk and butter, had you behaved well. I

will have my men ready to attack Fowooka tomorrow;—the Turks have ten

men; you have thirteen; thirteen and ten make twenty-three;—you shall

be carried if you can’t walk, and we will give Fowooka no chance—he

must be killed—only kill him, and MY BROTHER will give you half of his

kingdom.” He continued, “You shall have supplies tomorrow; I will go to

my brother, who is the great M’Kammaa Kamrasi, and he will send you all

you require. I am a little man, he is a big one; I have nothing; he has

everything, and he longs to see you; you must go to him directly, he

lives close by.” I hardly knew whether he was drunk or sober—“my

brother the great M’Kamma Kamrasi!” I felt bewildered with astonishment:

then, “If you are not Kamrasi, pray who are you ?” I asked. “Who am I?”

he replied, “ha, ha, ha! that’s very good; who am I?—why I am

M’Gambi, the brother of Kamrasi,—I am the younger brother, but he is

the King.”

The deceit of this country was incredible—I had positively never seen

the real Kamrasi up to this moment, and this man M’Gambi now confessed

to having impersonated the king his brother, as Kamrasi was afraid that

I might be in league with Debono’s people to murder him, and therefore

he had ordered his brother M’Gambi to act the king.

I now remembered, that the woman Bacheeta had on several occasions

during the journey told us that the Kamrasi we had seen was not the true

M’Kamma Kamrasi; but at the time I had paid little attention to her, as

she was constantly grumbling, and I imagined that this was merely said

in ill temper, referring to her murdered master Sali as the rightful

king.

I called the vakeel of the Turks, Eddrees: he said, that he also had

heard long since that M’Gambi was not Kamrasi as we had all supposed,

but that he had never seen the great king, as M’Gambi had always acted

as viceroy; he confirmed