The Albert N'Yanza, Great Basin of the Nile - Samuel White Baker (paper ebook reader .TXT) 📗
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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
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