The Albert N'Yanza, Great Basin of the Nile by Samuel White Baker (best ebook reader for chromebook .txt) 📖

a blessing to the plague-smitten

boy, as we could now make some soup. Goats we had purchased in the Shir

country for molotes (iron hoes) that we had received in exchange for

corn at Gondokoro from Koorshid’s agent who was responsible for the

supply I had left in depot. We left Fashoder, and continued our voyage

towards Khartoum.

 

Saat grew worse and worse: nothing would relieve the unfortunate boy

from the burning torture of that frightful disease. He never slept, but

night and day he muttered in delirium, breaking the monotony of his

malady by occasionally howling like a wild animal. Richarn won my heart

by his careful nursing of the boy, who had been his companion through

years of hardship. We arrived at the village of Wat Shely, only three

days from Khartoum. Saat was dying. The night passed, and I expected

that all would be over before sunrise; but as morning dawned a change

had taken place,—the burning fever had left him, and although raised

blotches had broken out upon his chest and various parts of his body, he

appeared much better. We now gave him stimulants; a tea-spoonful of

araki that we had bought at Fashoder was administered every ten minutes

on a lump of sugar. This he crunched in his mouth, while he gazed at my

wife with an expression of affection, but he could not speak. I had him

well washed and dressed in clean clothes, that had been kept most

carefully during the voyage, to be worn on our entree to Khartoum. He

was laid down to sleep upon a clean mat, and my wife gave him a lump of

sugar to moisten his mouth and relieve his thickly-furred tongue. His

pulse was very weak, and his skin cold. “Poor Saat,” said my wife, “his

life hangs upon a thread. We must nurse him most carefully; should he

have a relapse, nothing will save him.” An hour passed, and he slept.

Karka, the fat, good-natured slave woman, quietly went to his side:

gently taking him by the ankles and knees, she stretched his legs into a

straight position, and laid his arms parallel with his sides. She then

covered his face with a cloth, one of the few rags that we still

possessed. “Does he sleep still?” we asked. The tears ran down the

cheeks of the savage but good-hearted Karka, as she sobbed, “He is

dead!”

 

We stopped the boat. It was a sandy shore; the banks were high, and a

clump of mimosas grew above high watermark. It was there that we dug

his grave. My men worked silently and sadly, for all loved Saat: he had

been so good and true, that even their hard hearts had learnt to respect

his honesty. We laid him in his grave on the desert shore, beneath the

grove of trees. Again the sail was set, and, filled by the breeze, it

carried us away from the dreary spot where we had sorrowfully left all

that was good and faithful. It was a happy end—most merciful, as he had

been taken from a land of iniquity in all the purity of a child

converted from Paganism to Christianity. He had lived and died in our

service a good Christian. Our voyage was nearly over, and we looked

forward to home and friends, but we had still fatigues before us: poor

Saat had reached his home and rest. Two faithful followers we had

buried,—Johann Schmidt at the commencement of the voyage, and Saat at

its termination.

 

A few miles from this spot, a head wind delayed us for several days.

Losing patience, I engaged camels from the Arabs; and riding the whole

day, we reached Khartoum about half an hour after sunset on the 5th of

May, 1865.

 

On the following morning we were welcomed by the entire European

population of Khartoum, to whom are due my warmest thanks for many kind

attentions. We were kindly offered a house by Monsieur Lombrosio, the

manager of the Khartoum branch of the “Oriental and Egyptian Trading

Company.”

 

I now heard the distressing news of the death of my poor friend

Speke. I could not realize the truth of this melancholy report

until I read the details of his fatal accident in the appendix of

a French translation of his work. It was but a sad consolation

that I could confirm his discoveries, and bear witness to the

tenacity and perseverance with which he had led his party through

the untrodden path of Africa to the first Nile source. This

being the close of the expedition, I wish it to be distinctly

understood how thoroughly I support the credit of Speke and Grant

for their discovery of the first and most

elevated source of the Nile in the great Victoria N’yanza.

 

Although I call the river between the two lakes the “Somerset,” as

it was named by Speke upon the map he gave to me, I must repeat

that it is positively the Victoria Nile, and the name “Somerset”

is only used to distinguish it, in my description, from the entire

Nile that issues from the Albert N’yanza.

 

Whether the volume of water added by the latter lake be greater than

that supplied by the Victoria, the fact remains unaltered: the Victoria

is the highest and first-discovered source; the Albert is the second

source, but the ENTIRE RESERVOIR of the Nile waters. I use the term

SOURCE as applying to each reservoir as a head or main starting-point of

the river. I am quite aware that it is a debated point among

geographers, whether a lake can be called a SOURCE, as it owes its

origin to one or many rivers; but, as the innumerable torrents of the

mountainous regions of Central Africa pour into these great reservoirs,

it would be impossible to give preference to any individual stream. Such

a theory would become a source of great confusion, and the Nile sources

might remain forever undecided; a thousand future travellers might

return, each with his particular source in his portfolio, some stream of

insignificant magnitude being pushed forward as the true origin of the

Nile.

 

I found few letters awaiting me at Khartoum: all the European population

of the place had long ago given us up for lost. It was my wish to start

without delay direct for England, but there were extraordinary

difficulties in this wretched country of the Soudan. A drought of two

years had created a famine throughout the land, attended by a cattle and

camel plague, that had destroyed so many camels that all commerce was

stagnated. No merchandise could be transported from Khartoum; thus no

purchases could be made by the traders in the interior: the country,

always wretched, was ruined. The plague, or a malignant typhus, had run

riot in Khartoum: out of 4,000 black troops, only a remnant below 400

remained alive!

 

This frightful malady, that had visited our boat, had revelled in the

filth and crowded alleys of the Soudan capital.

 

The Blue Nile was so low that even the noggurs drawing three feet of

water could not descend the river. Thus, the camels being dead, and the

river impassable, no corn could be brought from Sennaar and Watmedene:

there was a famine in Khartoum—neither fodder for animals, nor food for

man. Being unable to procure either camels or boats, I was compelled to

wait at Khartoum until the Nile should rise sufficiently to enable us to

pass the cataracts between that town and Berber.

[The want of water in the Blue Nile, as here described, exemplifies the

theory that Lower Egypt owes its existence during the greater portion of

the year entirely to the volume of the White Nile.]

 

We remained two months at Khartoum. During this time we were subjected

to intense heat and constant dust-storms, attended with a general plague

of boils. Verily, the plagues of Egypt remain to this day in the Soudan.

On the 26th June, we had the most extraordinary dust-storm that had ever

been seen by the inhabitants. I was sitting in the courtyard of my

agent’s house at about 4:30 P.M.: there was no wind, and the sun was as

bright as usual in this cloudless sky, when suddenly a gloom was cast

over all,—a dull yellow glare pervaded the atmosphere. Knowing that

this effect portended a dust-storm, and that the present calm would be

followed by a hurricane of wind, I rose to go home, intending to secure

the shutters. Hardly had I risen, when I saw approaching, from the S.W.

apparently, a solid range of immense brown mountains, high in air. So

rapid was the passage of this extraordinary phenomenon, that in a few

minutes we were in actual pitchy darkness. At first there was no wind,

and the peculiar calm gave an oppressive character to the event. We were

in “a darkness that might be felt.” Suddenly the wind arrived, but not

with the violence that I had expected. There were two persons with me,

Michael Latfalla, my agent, and Monsieur Lombrosio. So intense was the

darkness, that we tried to distinguish our hands placed close before our

eyes;—not even an outline could be seen. This lasted for upwards of

twenty minutes: it then rapidly passed away, and the sun shone as

before; but we had FELT the darkness that Moses had inflicted upon the

Egyptians.

 

The Egyptian Government had, it appeared, been pressed by some of the

European Powers to take measures for the suppression of the slave-trade:

a steamer had accordingly been ordered to capture all vessels laden

with this in famous cargo. Two vessels had been seized and brought to

Khartoum, containing 850 human beings!—packed together like anchovies,

the living and the dying festering together, and the dead lying beneath

them. European eyewitnesses assured me that the disembarking of this

frightful cargo could not be adequately described. The slaves were in a

state of starvation, having had nothing to eat for several days. They

were landed in Khartoum; the dead and many of the dying were tied by the

ankles, and dragged along the ground by donkeys through the streets. The

most malignant typhus, or plague, had been engendered among this mass of

filth and misery, thus closely packed together. Upon landing, the women

were divided by the Egyptian authorities among the soldiers. These

creatures brought the plague to Khartoum, which, like a curse visited

upon this country of slavery and abomination, spread like a fire

throughout the town, and consumed the regiments that had received this

horrible legacy from the dying cargo of slaves. Among others captured by

the authorities on a charge of slave-trading was an Austrian subject,

who was then in the custody of the consul. A French gentleman, Monsieur

Garnier, had been sent to Khartoum by the French Consulate of Alexandria

on a special inquiry into the slave-trade; he was devoting himself to

the subject with much energy.

 

While at Khartoum I happened to find Mahommed Her! the vakeel of

Chenooda’s party, who had instigated lily men to mutiny at Latooka, and

had taken my deserters into his employ. I had promised to make an

example of this fellow; I therefore had him arrested, and brought before

the Divan. With extreme effrontery, he denied having had anything to do

with the affair, adding to his denial all knowledge of the total

destruction of his party and of my mutineers by the Latookas. Having a

crowd of witnesses in my own men, and others that I had found in

Khartoum who had belonged to Koorshid’s party at that time, his

barefaced lie was exposed, and he was convicted. I determined that he

should be punished, as an example that would insure respect to any

future English traveller in those regions. My men, and all those with

whom I had been connected, had been accustomed to rely most implicitly

upon all