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

captain to hoist the British flag upon each of the three boats, and sent

my compliments to the Government official, telling him that I was

neither a Turkish subject nor a trader, but an English explorer; that I

was not responsible for the tax, and that if any Turkish official should

board my boat, under the British flag, I should take the liberty of

throwing him overboard. This announcement appeared so practical, that

the official hurriedly departed, while I marched my men on board, and

ordered the boatmen to get ready to start. Just at that moment, a

Government vessel, by the merest chance, came swiftly down the river

under sail, and in the clumsiest manner crashed right into us. The oars

being lashed in their places on my boat, ready to start, were broken to

pieces by the other vessel, which, fouling another of my boats just

below, became fixed. The reis, or captain of the Government boat that

had caused the mischief, far from apologizing, commenced the foulest

abuse; and refused to give oars in exchange for those he had destroyed.

To start was impossible without oars, and an angry altercation being

carried on between my men and the Government boat, it was necessary to

come to closer quarters. The reis of the Government boat was a gigantic

black, a Tokrouri (native of Darfur), who, confident in his strength,

challenged any one to come on board, nor did any of my fellows respond

to the invitation. The insolence of Turkish Government officials is

beyond description—my oars were smashed, and this insult was the

reparation; so, stepping quickly on board, and brushing a few fellows on

one side, I was obliged to come to a physical explanation with the

captain, which terminated in a delivery of the oars. The bank of the

river was thronged with people, many were mere idlers attracted by the

bustle of the start, and others, the friends and relatives of my people,

who had come to say a last goodbye, with many women, to raise the Arab

cry of parting. Among others, was a tall, debauched-looking fellow,

excessively drunk and noisy, who, quarrelling with a woman who attempted

to restrain him, insisted upon addressing a little boy named Osman,

declaring that he should not accompany me unless he gave him a dollar to

get some drink. Osman was a sharp Arab boy of twelve years old, whom I

had engaged as one of the tent servants, and the drunken Arab was his

father, who wished to extort some cash from his son before he parted;

but the boy Osman showed his filial affection in a most touching manner,

by running into the cabin, and fetching a powerful hippopotamus whip,

with which he requested me to have his father thrashed, or “he would

never be gone.” Without indulging this amiable boy’s desire, we shoved

off; the three vessels rowed into the middle of the river, and hoisted

sail; a fair wind, and strong current, moved us rapidly down the stream;

the English flags fluttered gaily on the masts, and amidst the shouting

of farewells, and the rattling of musketry, we started for the sources

of the Nile. On passing the steamer belonging to the Dutch ladies,

Madame van Capellan, and her charming daughter, Mademoiselle Tinne, we

saluted them with a volley, and kept up a mutual waving of handkerchiefs

until out of view; little did we think that we should never meet those

kind faces again, and that so dreadful a fate would envelope almost the

entire party. [The entire party died of fever on the White Nile,

excepting Mademoiselle Tinne. The victims to the fatal climate of

Central Africa were Madame la Baronne van Capellan, her sister, two

Dutch maidservants, Dr. Steudner, and Signor Contarini.]

It was the 18th December, 1862, Thursday, one of the most lucky days for

a start, according to Arab superstition. In a few minutes we reached the

acute angle round which we had to turn sharply into the White Nile at

its junction with the Blue. It was blowing hard, and in tacking round

the point one of the noggurs carried away her yard, which fell upon deck

and snapped in half, fortunately without injuring either men or donkeys.

The yard being about a hundred feet in length, was a complicated affair

to splice; thus a delay took place in the act of starting which was

looked upon as a bad omen by my superstitious followers. The voyage up

the White Nile I now extract verbatim from my journal.

Friday, 19th Dec.—At daybreak took down the mast and unshipped all the

rigging; hard at work splicing the yard. The men of course wished to

visit their friends at Khartoum. Gave strict orders that no man should

leave the boats. One of the horsekeepers absconded before daybreak; sent

after him. The junction of the two Niles is a vast flat as far as the

eye can reach, the White Nile being about two miles broad some distance

above the point. Saati, my vakeel (headman), is on board one noggur as

chief; Johann on board the other, while I being on the diahbiah I trust

all the animals will be well cared for. I am very fearful of Johann’s

state of health: the poor fellow is mere skin and bone, and I am afraid

his lungs are affected; he has fever again today; I have sent him

quinine and wine, &c.

20th Dec.—The whole of yesterday employed in splicing yard, repairing

mast, and re-rigging. At 8.30 A.M. we got away with a spanking breeze.

The diahbiah horridly leaky. The “tree,” or rendezvous for all boats

when leaving for the White Nile voyage, consists of three large mimosas

about four miles from the point of junction. The Nile at this spot about

two miles wide—dead flat banks—mimosas on west bank. My two cabin

boys are very useful, and Osman’s ringing laugh and constant

impertinence to the crew and soldiers keep the boat alive; he is a

capital boy, a perfect gamin, and being a tailor by trade he is very

useful: this accounts for his father wishing to detain him. The horses

and donkeys very snug on board. At 1 p.m. passed Gebel Ouli, a small

hill on south bank—course S.W. 1/2 S. At 8.30 p.m. reached Cetene, a

village of mixed Arabs on the east bank—anchored.

21st Dec.—All day busy clearing decks, caulking ship, and making room

for the camels on the noggurs, as this is the village to which I had

previously sent two men to select camels and to have them in readiness

for my arrival. The men have been selecting sweethearts instead; thus I

must wait here tomorrow, that being the “Soog” or market day, when I

shall purchase my camels and milch goats. The banks of the river very

uninteresting—flat, desert, and mimosa bush. The soil is not so rich

as on the banks of the Blue Nile—the dhurra (grain) is small. The Nile

is quite two miles wide up to this point, and the high-water mark is not

more than five feet above the present level. The banks shelve gradually

like the sands at low tide in England, and quite unlike the

perpendicular banks of the Blue Nile. Busy at gunsmith’s work. The

nights and mornings are now cold, from 60 degrees to 62 degrees F.

Johann makes me very anxious: I much fear he cannot last long, unless

some sudden change for the better takes place.

22d Dec.—Selected two fine camels and shipped them in slings with some

difficulty. Bought four oxen at nine herias each (l5s.); the men

delighted at the work of slaughtering, and jerking the meat for the

voyage. Bought four milch goats at 9 ps. each, and laid in a large stock

of dhurra straw for the animals. Got all my men on board and sailed at

4.30 p.m., course due west; variation allowed for. I have already

reduced my men from wolves to lambs, and I should like to see the

outrageous acts of mutiny which are the scapegoats of the traders for

laying their atrocities upon the men’s shoulders. I cannot agree with

some writers in believing that personal strength is unnecessary to a

traveller. In these savage countries it adds materially to the success

of an expedition, provided that it be combined with kindness of manner,

justice, and unflinching determination. Nothing impresses savages so

forcibly as the power to punish and reward. I am not sure that this

theory is applicable to savages exclusively. Arrived at Wat Shely at 9

P.M. 23d Dec.—Poor Johann very ill. Bought two camels, and shipped them

all right: the market at this miserable village is as poor as that at

Getene. The river is about a mile and a half wide, fringed with mimosas;

country dead flat; soil very sandy; much cultivation near the village,

but the dhurra of poor quality. Saw many hippopotami in the river. I

much regret that I allowed Johann to accompany me from Khartoum; I feel

convinced he can never rally from his present condition.

24th Dec.—Sailed yesterday at 4.5 P.M., course south. This morning we

are off the Bagara country on the west bank. Dead flats of mimosas, many

of the trees growing in the water; the river generally shallow, and many

snags or dead stumps of trees. I have been fortunate with my men, only

one being drunk on leaving Wat Shely; him we carried forcibly on board.

Passed the island of Hassaniah at 2.20 P.M.; the usual flats covered

with mimosas. The high-water mark upon the stems of these trees is three

feet above the present level of the river; thus an immense extent of

country must be flooded during the wet season, as there are no banks to

the river. The water will retire in about two months, when the

neighbourhood of the river will be thronged with natives and their

flocks. All the natives of these parts are Arabs; the Bagara tribe on

the west bank. At Wat Shely some of the latter came on board to offer

their services as slave-hunters, this open offer confirming the general

custom of all vessels trading upon the White Nile.

25th Dec.—The Tokroori boy, Saat, is very amiable in calling all the

servants daily to eat together the residue from our table; but he being

so far civilized, is armed with a huge spoon, and having a mouth like a

crocodile, he obtains a fearful advantage over the rest of the party,

who eat the soup by dipping kisras (pancakes) into it with their

fingers. Meanwhile Saat sits among his invited guests, and works away

with his spoon like a sageer (water-wheel), and gets an unwarrantable

start, the soup disappearing like water in the desert. A dead calm the

greater portion of the day; the river fringed with mimosa forest. These

trees are the Soont (Acacia Arabica), which produce an excellent tannin:

the fruit, “garra,” is used for that purpose, and produces a rich brown

dye: all my clothes and the uniforms of my men I dyed at Khartoum with

this “garra.” The trees are about eighteen inches in diameter and

thirty-five feet high; being in full foliage, their appearance from a

distance is good, but on a closer approach the forest proves to be a

desolate swamp, completely overflowed; a mass of fallen dead trees

protruding from the stagnant waters, a solitary crane perched here and

there upon the rotten boughs; floating water-plants massed together, and

forming green swimming islands, hitched generally among the sunken

trunks and branches; sometimes slowly descending with the sluggish

stream, bearing, spectre-like, storks thus voyaging on nature’s rafts

from lands unknown. It is a fever-stricken wilderness—the current not

exceeding a quarter of a mile per hour—the water coloured like an

English horse-pond; a heaven for mosquitoes and a damp hell