The Albert N'Yanza, Great Basin of the Nile - Samuel White Baker (paper ebook reader .TXT) 📗
- Author: Samuel White Baker
- Performer: -
Book online «The Albert N'Yanza, Great Basin of the Nile - Samuel White Baker (paper ebook reader .TXT) 📗». Author Samuel White Baker
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
Comments (0)