In the Heart of Africa, Sir Samuel White Baker [black authors fiction .TXT] 📗

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.


The Nubian desert--The bitter well--Change of plans--An irascible dragoman--Pools of the Atbara--One secret of the Nile--At Cassala


CHAPTER II.


Egypt's rule of the Soudan--Corn-grinding in the Soudan--Mahomet meets relatives--The parent of Egypt--El Baggar rides the camel


CHAPTER III.


The Arabs' exodus--Reception by Abou Sinn--Arabs dressing the hair--Toilet of an Arab woman--The plague of lice--Wives among the Arabs--The Old Testament confirmed



CHAPTER IV.


On the Abyssinian border--A new school of medicine--Sacred shrines and epidemics


CHAPTER V.


A primitive craft--Stalking the giraffes--My first giraffes-Rare sport with the finny tribe--Thieving elephants


CHAPTER VI.


Preparations for advance--Mek Nimmur makes a foray--The Hamran elephant-hunters--In the haunts of the elephant--A desperate charge


CHAPTER VII.


The start from Geera--Feats of horsemanship--A curious chase--Abou Do wins a race--Capturing a young buffalo--Our island camp--Tales of the Base


CHAPTER VIII.


The elephant trumpets--Fighting an elephant with swords--The forehead-shot--Elephants in a panic--A superb old Neptune--The harpoon reaches its aim--Death of the hippopotamus--Tramped by an elephant


CHAPTER IX.


Fright of the Tokrooris--Deserters who didn't desert--Arrival of the Sherrif brothers--Now for a tally-ho!--On the heels of the rhinoceroses--The Abyssinian rhinoceros--Every man for himself


CHAPTER X.


A day with the howartis--A hippo's gallant fight--Abou Do leaves us--Three yards from a lion--Days of delight--A lion's furious rage--Astounding courage of a horse



CHAPTER XI.


The bull-elephant--Daring Hamrans--The elephant helpless--Visited by a minstrel--A determined musician--The nest of the outlaws--The Atbara River


CHAPTER XII.


Abyssinian slave-girls--Khartoum--The Soudan under Egyptian rule--Slave-trade in the Soudan--The obstacles ahead


CHAPTER XIII.


Gondokoro--A mutiny quelled--Arrival of Speke and Grant--The sources of the Nile-Arab duplicity--The boy-slave's story--Saat adopted


CHAPTER XIV.


Startling disclosures--The last hope seems gone--The Bari chief's advice--Hoping for the best--Ho for Central Africa!


CHAPTER XV.


A start made at last--A forced march--Lightening the ship--Waiting for the caravan--Success hangs in the balance--The greatest rascal in Central Africa--Legge demands another bottle


CHAPTER XVI.


The greeting of the slave-traders--Collapse of the mutiny--African funerals-Visit from the Latooka chief--Bokke makes a suggestion--Slaughter of the Turks--Success as a prophet--Commoro's philosophy


CHAPTER XVII.


Disease in the camp--Forward under difficulties--Our cup of misery overflows--A rain-maker in a dilemma-Fever again--Ibrahim's quandary-Firing the prairie


CHAPTER XVIII.


Greeting from Kamrasi's people--Suffering from the sins of others-Alone among savages--The free-masonry of Unyoro.--Pottery and civilization


CHAPTER XIX.


Kamrasi's cowardice--Interview with the king--The exchange of blood--The rod beggar's last chance--An astounded sovereign


CHAPTER XX.


A satanic escort--Prostrated by sun-stroke--Days and nights of sorrow--The reward for all our labor


CHAPTER XXI.


The cradle of the Nile--Arrival at Magungo--The blind leading the blind--Murchison Falls


CHAPTER XXII.


Prisoners on the island--Left to starve--Months of helpless-ness--We rejoin the Turks--The real Kamrasi--In the presence of royalty


CHAPTER XXIII.


The hour of deliverance--Triumphal entry into Gondokoro--Homeward bound--The plague breaks out--Our welcome at Khartoum--Return to civilization



IN THE HEART OF AFRICA.


CHAPTER I.


The Nubian desert--The bitter well--Change of plans--An irascible dragoman--Pools of the Atbara--One secret of the Nile--At Cassala.


In March, 1861, I commenced an expedition to discover the sources of the Nile, with the hope of meeting the East African expedition of Captains Speke and Grant, that had been sent by the English Government from the South via Zanzibar, for the same object. I had not the presumption to publish my intention, as the sources of the Nile had hitherto defied all explorers, but I had inwardly determined to accomplish this difficult task or to die in the attempt. From my youth I had been inured to hardships and endurance in wild sports in tropical climates, and when I gazed upon the map of Africa I had a wild hope, mingled with humility, that, even as the insignificant worm bores through the hardest oak, I might by perseverance reach the heart of Africa.

I could not conceive that anything in this world has power to resist a determined will, so long as health and life remain. The failure of every former attempt to reach the Nile source did not astonish me, as the expeditions had consisted of parties, which, when difficulties occur, generally end in difference of opinion and in retreat; I therefore determined to proceed alone, trusting in the guidance of a Divine Providence and the good fortune that sometimes attends a tenacity of purpose. I weighed carefully the chances of the undertaking. Before me, untrodden Africa; against me, the obstacles that had defeated the world since its creation; on my side, a somewhat tough constitution, perfect independence, a long experience in savage life, and both time and means, which I intended to devote to the object without limit.

England had never sent an expedition to the Nile sources previous to that under the command of Speke and Grant. Bruce, ninety years before, had succeeded in tracing the source of the Blue or Lesser Nile; thus the honor of that discovery belonged to Great Britain. Speke was on his road from the South, and I felt confident that my gallant friend would leave his bones upon the path rather than submit to failure. I trusted that England would not be beaten, and although I hardly dared to hope that I could succeed where others greater than I had failed, I determined to sacrifice all in the attempt.

Had I been alone, it would have been no hard lot to die upon the untrodden path before me; but there was one who, although my greatest comfort, was also my greatest care, one whose life yet dawned at so early an age that womanhood was still a future. I shuddered at the prospect for her, should she be left alone in savage lands at my death; and gladly would I have left her in the luxuries of home instead of exposing her to the miseries of Africa. It was in vain that I implored her to remain, and that I painted the difficulties and perils still blacker than I supposed they really would be. She was resolved, with woman's constancy and devotion, to share all dangers and to follow me through each rough footstep of the wild life before me. "And Ruth said, Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God; where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me."

Thus accompanied by my wife, on the 15th of April, 1861, I sailed up the Nile from Cairo. The wind blew fair and strong from the north, and we flew toward the south against the stream, watching those mysterious waters with a firm resolve to track them to their distant fountain.

I had a firman from the Viceroy, a cook, and a dragoman. Thus my impedimenta were not numerous. The firman was an order to all Egyptian officials for assistance; the cook was dirty and incapable; and the interpreter was nearly ignorant of English, although a professed polyglot. With this small beginning, Africa was before me, and thus I commenced the search for the sources of the Nile.

On arrival at Korosko, twenty-six days from Cairo, we started across the Nubian Desert. During the cool months, from November until February, the desert journey is not disagreeable; but the vast area of glowing sand exposed to the scorching sun of summer, in addition to the withering breath of the simoom, renders the forced march of two hundred and thirty miles in seven days, at two and a half miles per hour, one of the most fatiguing journeys that can be endured.

We entered a dead level plain of orange-colored sand, surrounded by pyramidical hills. The surface was strewn with objects resembling cannon shot and grape of all sizes from a 32-pounder downward, and looked like the old battle-field of some infernal region--rocks glowing with heat, not a vestige of vegetation, barren, withering desolation. The slow rocking step of the camels was most irksome, and, despite the heat, I dismounted to examine the Satanic bombs and cannon shot. Many of them were as perfectly round as though cast in a mould, others were egg-shaped, and all were hollow. With some difficulty I broke them, and found them to contain a bright red sand. They were, in fact, volcanic bombs that had been formed by the ejection of molten lava to a great height from active volcanoes; these had become globular in falling, and, having cooled before they reached the earth, they retained their forms as hard spherical bodies, precisely resembling cannon shot. The exterior was brown, and appeared to be rich in iron. The smaller specimens were the more perfect spheres, as they cooled quickly; but many of the heavier masses had evidently reached the earth when only half solidified, and had collapsed upon falling. The sandy plain was covered with such vestiges of volcanic action, and the infernal bombs lay as imperishable relics of a hailstorm such as may have destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah.

Passing through this wretched solitude, we entered upon a scene of surpassing desolation. Far as the eye could reach were waves like a stormy sea, gray, coldlooking waves in the burning heat; but no drop of water. It appeared as though a sudden curse had turned a raging sea to stone. The simoom blew over this horrible wilderness, and drifted the hot sand into the crevices of the rocks, and the camels drooped their heads before the suffocating wind; but still the caravan noiselessly crept along over the rocky undulations, until the stormy sea was passed; once more we were upon a boundless plain of sand and pebbles.

In forty-six hours and forty-five minutes' actual marching from Korosko, we reached Moorahd, "the bitter well." This is a mournful spot, well known to the tired and thirsty camel, the hope of reaching which has urged him fainting on his weary way to drink one draught before he dies. This is the camel's grave. Situated half way between Korosko and Abou Hammed, the well of Moorahd is in an extinct crater, surrounded upon all sides but one by precipitous cliffs about three hundred feet high. The bottom is a dead flat, and forms a valley of sand about two hundred and fifty yards wide. In this bosom of a crater, salt and bitter water is found at a depth of only six feet from the surface. To this our tired camels frantically rushed upon being unloaded.

The valley was a "valley of dry bones." Innumerable skeletons of camels lay in all directions-the ships of the desert thus stranded on their voyage. Withered heaps of parched skin and bone lay here and there, in the distinct forms in which the camels had gasped their last. The dry desert air had converted the hide into a coffin. There were no flies here, thus there were no worms to devour the carcasses; but the usual sextons were the crows, although sometimes too few to perform their office. These were perched upon the overhanging cliffs; but no sooner had our overworked camels taken their long draught and lain down exhausted on the sand, than by common consent they