The Albert N'Yanza, Great Basin of the Nile, Samuel White Baker [inspirational novels .TXT] 📗

with their spears for about a quarter of a mile.

These fellows tracked him beautifully, and we at length found him hiding

in a deep pool in the river, and he was immediately dispatched.

 

After a long walk, during which I did not obtain another shot, I

returned to my resting-place, and, refreshed by a bathe in the cool

river, I slept as sound as though in the most luxurious bed in England.

On the following morning I went out early, and shot a small species of

antelope; and shortly after my return to breakfast, the Turks’ party

arrived, bringing with them about three hundred head of cattle that they

had captured from the Madi tribe. They did not seem at all in good

spirits, and I shortly heard that they had lost their standard-bearer,

killed in the fight, and that the flag had been in great peril, and had

been saved by the courage of a young Bari slave. The ensign was

separated from the main party, and was attacked by four natives, who

killed the bearer, and snatched away the flag: this would inevitably

have been lost, had not the Bari boy of about fifteen shot the foremost

native dead with a pistol, and, snatching the flag from his hands, ran

with it towards the Turks, some of whom coming up at that instant, the

natives did not think it wise to pursue their advantage. A number of

slaves had been captured; among others, several young children, one of

whom was an infant. These unfortunate women and children, excepting the

infant, were all tied by the neck with a long leathern thong, so as to

form a living chain, and guards were set over them to prevent escape.

 

The Bari natives would make good soldiers, as they are far more

courageous than most of the savage tribes. The best men among the party

of Ibrahim are Baris; among them is a boy named Arnout; he is the

drummer, and he once saved his master in a fight by suddenly presenting

his drumstick like a pistol at several natives, who had attacked him

while unloaded. The natives, seeing the determined attitude of the boy,

and thinking that the drumstick was a firearm, ran off. We started at

daybreak on 13th January, and, ascending the whole way, we reached

Shooa, in latitude 3 degrees 4 minutes. The route throughout had been of

the same parklike character, interspersed with occasional hills of fine

granite, piled in the enormous blocks so characteristic of that stone.

 

Shooa was a lovely place. A fine granite mountain ascended in one block

in a sheer precipice for about 800 feet from its base, perfectly abrupt

on the eastern side, while the other portions of the mountain were

covered with fine forest trees, and picturesquely dotted over with

villages. This country formed a natural park, remarkably well watered by

numerous rivulets, ornamented with fine timber, and interspersed with

numerous high rocks of granite, which from a distance produced the

effect of ruined castles.

 

The pasturage was of a superior quality, and of the same description as

that of Farajoke. The country being undulating, there was a small brook

in every valley that formed a natural drain. Accordingly, the more

elevated land was remarkably dry and healthy. On arrival at the foot of

the abrupt mountain, we camped beneath an immense india-rubber tree,

that afforded a delightful shade, from which elevated spot we had a

superb view of the surrounding country, and could see the position of

Debono’s camp, about twenty-five miles to the west by north, at the foot

of the Faloro hills.

 

By Casella’s thermometer, I determined the altitude of Shooa to be 3,877

feet—1,002 feet above the Asua river, and 89 feet lower than

Farajoke. These observations of the thermometer agreed with the natural

appearance of the country, the Asua river forming the main drain in a

deep valley, into which innumerable rivulets convey the drainage from

both north and south. Accordingly, the Asua, receiving the Atabbi river,

which is the main drain of the western face of the Madi mountains, and

the entire drainage of the Madi and Shooa countries, together with that

of extensive countries to the east of Shooa, including the rivers Chombi

and Udat, from Lira and Umiro, it becomes a tremendous torrent so long

as the rains continue, and conveys a grand volume of water to the Nile;

but the inclination of all these countries tending rapidly to the

northwest, the bed of the Asua river partakes of the general incline,

and so quickly empties after the cessation of the rains that it becomes

nil as a river. By the mean of several observations I determined the

latitude of Shooa 3 degrees 04 minutes, longitude 32 degrees 04 minutes

E.

 

We were now about twelve miles south of Debono’s outpost, Faloro. The

whole of the Shooa country was assumed to belong to Mahommed Wat-el-Mek,

the vakeel of Debono, and we had passed the ashes of several villages

that had been burnt and plundered by these people between Farajoke and

this point; the entire country had been laid waste.

 

There was no great chief at Shooa; each village had a separate headman;

formerly the population had occupied the lower ground, but since the

Turks had been established at Faloro and had plundered the neighbouring

tribes, the natives had forsaken their villages and had located

themselves among the mountains for security. It was the intention of

Ibrahim to break through the rules accepted by the White Nile traders,

and to establish himself at Shooa, which, although claimed by Debono’s

people, would form an excellent point d’appui for operations towards the

unknown south.

 

Shooa was “flowing with milk and honey;” fowls, butter, goats, were in

abundance and ridiculously cheap; beads were of great value, as few had

ever reached that country. The women flocked to see Mrs. Baker, bringing

presents of milk and flour, and receiving beads and bracelets in return.

The people were precisely the same as those of Obbo and Farajoke in

language and appearance, exceedingly mild in their manner, and anxious

to be on good terms.

 

The cultivation in this country was superior to anything that I had seen

farther north; large quantities of sesame were grown and carefully

harvested, the crop being gathered and arranged in oblong frames about

twenty feet long by twelve high. These were inclined at an angle of

about sixty—the pods of the sesame plants on one face, so that the

frames resembled enormous brushes. In this manner the crop was dried

previous to being stored in the granaries. Of the latter there were two

kinds–the wicker-work smeared with cow dung, supported on four posts,

with a thatched roof; and a simple contrivance by fixing a stout pole

about twenty feet long perpendicularly in the earth. About four feet

from the ground a bundle of strong and long reeds are tied tightly round

the pole; hoops of wicker-work are then bound round them at intervals

until they assume the form of an inverted umbrella half expanded; this

being filled with grain, fresh reeds are added, until the work has

extended to within a few feet of the top of the pole; the whole is then

capped with reeds securely strapped: the entire granary has the

appearance of a cigar, but thicker in proportion about the middle.

 

Two days after our arrival at Shooa, the whole of our Obbo porters

absconded: they had heard that we were bound for Kamrasi’s country, and

having received exaggerated accounts of his power from the Shooa people,

they had determined upon retreat: thus we were at once unable to

proceed, unless we could procure porters from Shooa. This was

exceedingly difficult, as Kamrasi was well known here, and was not

loved. His country was known as “Quanda,” and I at once recognised the

corruption of Speke’s “Uganda.” The slave woman, “Bacheeta,” who had

formerly given me in Obbo so much information concerning Kamrasi’s

country, was to be our interpreter; but we also had the luck to discover

a lad who had formerly been employed by Mahommed in Faloro, who also

spoke the language of Quanda, and had learnt a little Arabic. I now

discovered that the slave woman Bacheeta had formerly been in the

service of a chief named Sali, who had been killed by Kamrasi. Sali was

a friend of Rionga (Kamrasi’s greatest enemy), and I had been warned by

Speke not to set foot upon Rionga’s territory, or all travelling in

Unyoro would be cut off. I plainly saw that Bacheeta was in favour of

Rionga, as a friend of the murdered Sali, by whom she had had two

children, and that she would most likely tamper with the guide, and that

we should be led to Rionga instead of to Kamrasi. There were “wheels

within wheels.” It was now reported that in the past year, immediately

after the departure of Speke and Grant from Gondokoro, when Debono’s

people had left me in the manner already described, they had marched

direct to Rionga, allied themselves to him, crossed the Nile with his

people, and had attacked Kamrasi’s country, killing about three hundred

of his men, and capturing many slaves. I now understood why they had

deceived me at Gondokoro; they had obtained information of the country

from Speke’s people, and had made use of it by immediately attacking

Kamrasi in conjunction with Rionga.

 

This would be a pleasant introduction for me on entering Unyoro, as

almost immediately after the departure of Speke and Grant, Kamrasi had

been invaded by the very people into whose hands his messengers had

delivered them, when they were guided from Unyoro to the Turks’ station

at Faloro; he would naturally have considered that the Turks had been

sent by Speke to attack him; thus the road appeared closed to all

exploration, through the atrocities of Debono’s people.

 

Many of Ibrahim’s men, at hearing this intelligence, refused to proceed

to Unyoro. Fortunately for me, Ibrahim had been extremely unlucky in

procuring ivory; the year had almost passed away, and he had a mere

nothing with which to return to Gondokoro. I impressed upon him how

enraged Koorshid would be should he return with such a trifle; already

his own men declared that he was neglecting razzias, because he was to

receive a present from me if we reached Unyoro; this they would report

to his master (Koorshid), and it would be believed should he fail in

securing ivory. I guaranteed him 100 cantars (10,000 lbs.) if he would

push on at all hazards with me to Kamrasi, and secure me porters from

Shooa. Ibrahim behaved remarkably well. For some time past I had

acquired a great influence over him, and he depended so thoroughly upon

my opinion that he declared himself ready to do all that I suggested.

Accordingly I desired him to call his men together, and to leave in

Shooa all those who were disinclined to follow us.

 

At once I arranged for a start, lest some fresh idea should enter the

ever-suspicious brains of our followers, and mar the expedition.

 

It was difficult to procure porters, and I abandoned all that was not

indispensable—our last few pounds of rice and coffee, and even the

great sponging-bath, that emblem of civilization that had been clung to

even when the tent had been left behind.

 

On the 18th January, 1864, we left Shooa. The pure air of that country

had invigorated us, and I was so improved in strength, that I enjoyed

the excitement of the launch into unknown lands. The Turks knew nothing

of the route south, and I accordingly took the lead of the entire party.

I had come to a distinct understanding with Ibrahim that Kamrasi’s

country should belong to ME; not an act of felony would be permitted;

all were to be under my