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

fire until we entered upon a tract of high grass and forest; this being

perfectly dry, it would have been easy to set it on fire, as the enemy

were to leeward; but although the rustling in the grass betokened the

presence of a great number of men, they were invisible. In a few minutes

we emerged in a clearing, where corn had been planted; this was a

favourable position for a decisive attack upon the natives, who now

closed up. Throwing out skirmishers, with orders that they were to cover

themselves behind the trunks of trees, the Baris were driven back. One

was now shot through the body, and fell; but recovering, he ran with his

comrades, and fell dead after a few yards.

What casualties had happened during the passage of the gorge I cannot

say, but the enemy were now utterly discomfited. I had not fired a shot,

as the whole affair was perfect child’s play, and any one who could

shoot would have settled the fortune of the day by half a dozen shots;

but both the traders’ people and my men were “shooters, but not

hitters.” We now bivouacked on the field for the night.

During the march on the following day, the natives watched us at a

distance, following in great numbers parallel with our route, but

fearing to attack. The country was perfectly open, being a succession of

fine downs of low grass, with few trees, where any attack against our

guns would have been madness.

In the evening we arrived at two small deserted villages; these, like

most in the Bari country, were circular, and surrounded by a live and

impenetrable fence of euphorbia, having only one entrance. The traders’

people camped in one, while I took up my quarters in the other. The sun

had sunk, and the night being pitch dark, we had a glorious fire, around

which we placed our angareps opposite the narrow entrance of the camp,

about ten yards distant. I stationed Richarn as sentry outside the

gateway, as he was the most dependable of my men, and I thought it

extremely probable that we might be attacked during the night: three

other sentries I placed on guard at various stations. Dinner being

concluded, Mrs. Baker lay down on her angarep for the night. I drew the

balls from a double No. 10 smooth bore, and loaded with cartridge

containing each twenty large-mould shot (about a hundred to the pound);

putting this under my pillow I went to sleep. Hardly had I begun to

rest, when my men woke me, saying that the camp was surrounded by

natives. Upon inquiry I found this to be correct; it was so dark that

they could not be seen without stooping to the ground and looking along

the surface. I ordered the sentries not to fire unless hostilities

should commence on the side of the natives, and in no case to draw

trigger without a challenge.

Returning to the angarep I lay down, and not wishing to sleep, I smoked

my long Unyoro pipe. In about ten minutes—bang! went a shot, quickly

followed by another from the sentry at the entrance of the camp. Quietly

rising from my bed, I found Richarn reloading at his post. “What is it,

Richarn?” I asked. “They are shooting arrows into the camp, aiming at

the fire, in hopes of hitting you who are sleeping there,” said Richarn.

“I watched one fellow,” he continued, “as I heard the twang of his bow

four times. At each shot I heard an arrow strike the ground between me

and you, therefore I fired at him, and I think he is down. Do you see

that black object lying on the ground?” I saw something a little blacker

than the surrounding darkness, but it could not be distinguished.

Leaving Richarn with orders not to move from his post, but to keep a

good look-out until relieved by the next watch, I again went to sleep.

Before break of day, just as the grey dawn slightly improved the

darkness, I visited the sentry; he was at his post, and reported that he

thought the archer of the preceding night was dead, as he had heard a

sound proceeding from the dark object on the ground after I had left. In

a few minutes it was sufficiently light to distinguish the body of a

roan lying about thirty paces from the camp entrance. Upon examination,

he proved to be a Bari: his bow was in his hand, and two or three arrows

were lying by his side; thirteen mould shot had struck him dead; one had

cut through the bow. We now searched the camp for arrows, and as it

became light we picked up four in various places, some within a few feet

of our beds, and all horribly barbed and poisoned, that the deceased had

shot into the camp gateway.

This was the last attack during our journey. We marched well, generally

accomplishing fifteen miles of latitude daily from this point, as the

road was good and well known to our guides. The country was generally

poor, but beautifully diversified with large trees, the tamarind

predominating. Passing through the small but thickly-populated and

friendly little province of Moir, in a few days we sighted the

well-known mountain Belignan, that we had formerly passed on its eastern

side when we had started on our uncertain path from Gondokoro upwards of

two years ago. The mountain of Belignan was now N.E. from our point of

observation.

We had a splendid view of the Ellyria Mountain, and of the distant cone,

Gebel el Assul (Honey Mountain) between Ellyria and Obbo. All these

curiously-shaped crags and peaks were well known to us, and we welcomed

them as old friends after a long absence; they had been our companions

in times of doubt and anxiety, when success in our undertaking appeared

hopeless. At noon on the following day, as we were as usual marching

parallel with the Nile, the river, having made a slight bend to the

west, swept round, and approached within half a mile of our path; the

small conical mountain, Regiaf, within twelve miles of Gondokoro, was on

our left, rising from the west bank of the river. We felt almost at home

again, and marching until sunset, we bivouacked within three miles of

Gondokoro. That night we were full of speculations. Would a boat be

waiting for us with supplies and letters? The morning anxiously looked

forward to at length arrived. We started;—the English flag had been

mounted on a fine straight bamboo with a new lance head specially

arranged for the arrival at Gondokoro. My men felt proud, as they would

march in as conquerors;—according to White Nile ideas such a journey

could not have been accomplished with so small a party. Long before

Ibrahim’s men were ready to start, our oxen were saddled and we were

off, longing to hasten into Gondokoro and to find a comfortable vessel

with a few luxuries and the post from England. Never had the oxen

travelled so fast as on that morning;—the flag led the way, and the

men in excellent spirits followed at double quick pace. “I see the masts

of the vessels!” exclaimed the boy Saat. “El hambd el Illah!” (Thank

God!) shouted the men. “Hurrah!” said I—“Three cheers for Old England

and the Sources of the Nile! Hurrah!” and my men joined me in the wild,

and to their ears savage, English yell. “Now for a salute! Fire away all

your powder, if you like, my lads, and let the people know that we’re

alive!” This was all that was required to complete the happiness of my

people, and loading and firing as fast as possible, we approached near

to Gondokoro. Presently we saw the Turkish flag emerge from Gondokoro at

about a quarter of a mile distant, followed by a number of the traders’

people, who waited to receive us. On our arrival, they immediately

approached and fired salutes with ball cartridge, as usual advancing

close to us and discharging their guns into the ground at our feet. One

of my servants, Mahomet, was riding an ox, and an old friend of his in

the crowd happening to recognise him, immediately advanced, and saluted

him by firing his gun into the earth directly beneath the belly of the

ox he was riding;—the effect produced made the crowd and ourselves

explode with laughter. The nervous ox, terrified at the sudden discharge

between his legs, gave a tremendous kick, and continued madly kicking

and plunging, until Mahomet was pitched over his head and lay sprawling

on the ground;—this scene terminated the expedition.

Dismounting from our tired oxen, our first inquiry was concerning boats

and letters. What was the reply? Neither boats, letters, supplies, nor

any intelligence of friends or the civilized world! We had long since

been given up as dead by the inhabitants of Khartoum, and by all those

who understood the difficulties and dangers of the country. We were told

that some people had suggested that we might possibly have gone to

Zanzibar, but the general opinion was that we had all been killed. At

this cold and barren reply, I felt almost choked. We had looked forward

to arriving at Gondokoro as to a home; we had expected that a boat would

have been sent on the chance of finding us, as I had left money in the

hands of an agent in Khartoum—but there was literally nothing to

receive us, and we were helpless to return. We had worked for years in

misery, such as I have but faintly described, to overcome the

difficulties of this hitherto unconquerable exploration; we had

succeeded—and what was the result? Not even a letter from home to

welcome us if alive! As I sat beneath a tree and looked down upon the

glorious Nile that flowed a few yards beneath my feet, I pondered upon

the value of my toil. I had traced the river to its great Albert source,

and as the mighty stream glided before me, the mystery that had ever

shrouded its origin was dissolved. I no longer looked upon its waters

with a feeling approaching to awe for I knew its home, and had visited

its cradle. Had I overrated the importance of the discovery? and had I

wasted some of the best years of my life to obtain a shadow? I recalled

to recollection the practical question of Commoro, the chief of Latooka,

—“Suppose you get to the great lake, what will you do with it? What

will be the good of it? If you find that the large river does flow from

it, what then?”

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE LATEST NEWS FROM KHARTOUM.

The various trading parties were assembled in Gondokoro with a total of

about three thousand slaves; but there was consternation depicted upon

every countenance. Only three boats had arrived from Khartoum—one

diahbiah and two noggurs—these belonged to Koorshid Aga. The resume of

news from Khartoum was as follows:—

“Orders had been received by the Egyptian authorities from the European

Governments to suppress the slave-trade. Four steamers had arrived at

Khartoum from Cairo. Two of these vessels had ascended the White Nile,

and had captured many slavers; their crews were imprisoned, and had been

subjected to the bastinado and torture;—the captured slaves had been

appropriated by the Egyptian authorities.

“It would be impossible to deliver slaves to the Soudan this season, as

an Egyptian regiment had been stationed in the Shillook country, and

steamers were cruising to intercept the boats from the interior in their

descent to Khartoum;—thus the army of slaves then at Gondokoro would

be utterly worthless.

“The plague was raging at Khartoum, and had killed 15,000 people;—many

of the boats’ crews had died on their passage from Khartoum to Gondokoro

of this