Illustrations
[Emin Pasha]Frontispiece [A Serious Accident to Emin]41 [First Meeting of Stanley with Emin Pasha]71 [The Snow Mountain]94 [Major Wissmann]105
Emin Pasha
Chapter I
The Father of his People
As the famous traveller, Dr. Junker,[1] came in sight of the town of Lado[2] on the Nile, on the twenty-first of January, 1884, after a year’s stay in the Soudan, he felt that all his privations and dangers were at an end, though many hundreds of miles still separated him from his home. After having been deprived so long of nearly everything that we consider the ordinary necessities of life, after wandering alone in the wilderness, in primeval forests and over sunburned plains, among cannibals and cruel man-trafficking Arabs, he knew that he would find a white man in Lado who could speak his native tongue,—a zealous scholar and finely cultured man, who would acquaint him with everything from which he had been excluded so long—a friend who would welcome him with a cordial grasp of the hand; in a word, Emin Pasha, that heroic governor of the Equatorial Provinces, whose strange fate and cruel murder filled the whole civilized world with astonishment and sympathy.
After a short day’s march through the country of the Bari,[3] the traveller was certain that the end of his journey was not far distant. How different were the well-cultivated farmlands from the wilderness, interspersed here and there with Arab settlements. The negroes had their property well protected, their herds were grazing in all directions, and the people of the numerous villages did not flee, but kept calmly about their work. Dr. Junker’s servants were astonished when they saw that in this country the stronger did not appropriate the property of the weaker and that the Turkish government had not disturbed them.
As the expedition neared the station, shots were fired as a welcome. The advancing boys and carriers made way and Junker perceived a body of men in faultlessly white garments coming to meet him. At their head he at once recognized his friend, Dr. Emin Pasha, a slim, almost haggard man of little more than medium height, with a small face, dark full beard, and deep-set eyes, whose sight was rendered keener by spectacles. His demeanor and movements impressed one with his composure and self-control. His external appearance betrayed an almost painful neatness. He and his attendants rode mules and six black soldiers in white uniforms followed him. To Dr. Junker it appeared a festal procession and tears came to his eyes. He sprang from his horse and greeted his friend first, then the others. The rest of the distance to the station was made on foot, the two eagerly conversing.
What a change there had been at Lado since Dr. Junker last saw its miserable rush huts, six years before. At that time, Emin had just begun his difficult administration. The changes which they saw all about them testified eloquently to the governor’s abilities.
The man holding this high position in the Soudan arose from humble circumstances. His real name was Edward Schnitzer. He was born at Oppeln in Silesia, in 1840, and shortly after his family removed to Neisse, where many of his relatives are living to-day. We know little about his youth, but we are told that the boy was an enthusiastic naturalist, fond of making collections of flowers and insects, and even at that time noted for his reserve and thoughtfulness. Both these characteristics are observable in the man. The study of nature was his principal recreation and compensated for his lack of human intercourse. But his conscientious devotion to science and his aversion to publicity leave us little knowledge of his accomplishments or his real sentiments. Even his most intimate friends knew little of his inner nature, and while his letters to European scholars reveal his varied activities, yet they are of no value in throwing light upon his nature, which makes it difficult to understand some of the actions of the man.
Edward Schnitzer studied medicine in Breslau and Berlin in 1863-64 and took the doctor’s degree. It was his love of nature that led him to go abroad. He went to Trieste and Antivari, and from there, with a Turkish companion, Hakki Pasha, to Trebizond. He soon succeeded in gaining respect and influence. His facility in adapting himself to the habits of the places where he was stopping, the remarkable ease with which he learned languages (he spoke Turkish and Arabic as if they were his native tongues), and the success which attended his medical practice, quickly brought him fame and importance; and when, as was the custom in those countries, he changed his German name to a foreign one (Emin, “the Faithful”), he was hardly recognizable as a European. In the company of Hakki he explored Arabia and then went to Janina and Constantinople. When his protector died, the young physician returned home and devoted himself entirely to scientific pursuits. But soon the monotony of everyday life and its quiet regularity, the colorless northern landscape, and frequent cloudy skies became unendurable, and he suddenly decided to make a change. In 1876 he went south again, this time to Egypt. He reached there at just the right time, for the enterprising Khedive, Ismail Pasha, was attracting large numbers of Europeans to his country because of his extension of the limits of the ancient kingdom of Pharaoh far to the south and the west.
Emin placed himself at the disposition of Gordon Pasha as a physician, Gordon at that time being governor of Hat-el-Estiva. He soon recognized Emin’s importance, and intrusted several diplomatic missions to negro chiefs in the south to him. When Gordon resigned his position in 1878 to enter upon a wider field of action, Emin became his successor and governed a territory in the Equatorial Provinces which stretched from Lado to the equator and was as large as France, Germany, and Austria combined.
Emin owed his elevation to the post of governor to Dr. Junker’s recommendation. Consequently the latter was very anxious to know what he had accomplished in the wilderness, so far away from civilization. As Emin conducted his guest to his private divan, it seemed to him a palace, though it would have been a very unassuming structure to us. It stood upon a plaza, on the bank of the Nile, in the form of a spacious, enclosed rectangle. On the east side, towards the river and also towards the north, was the house, surrounded by rows of dark green lemon trees, between the servants’ and watchmen’s cabins. On the west side of the plaza were two larger cabins and a great sun awning which made a most comfortable lodging for the traveller and his company. Emin’s house had doors and windows, but the entrances of the other dwellings were fitted with curtains. The houses were built of brick and stood in regular order upon broad streets which were intersected by narrower rectangular thoroughfares.
The numerous huts of the natives were constructed of straw and palm leaves. These light buildings lasted only about three years, for termites[4] and borers were busied in their destruction day and night, and they were frequently destroyed by fire in the dry season. Emin could preserve his collections only by the most constant care. Thousands of stuffed birds, his papers, diaries, and provisions had to be guarded against indefatigable insects. The termites especially swarmed in the inner passageways of the house, infested the beds and shelves and made havoc with Emin’s stores.
The arrangement of the divan was simple and recalled the comforts of home. A long massive work table was covered with writing materials, another with meteorological instruments and periodicals, and European chairs stood at each. At the side was a small library on shelves and upon several round iron tables were various useful articles, such as are common with us. All the tables had neat covers. In two corners were chests and cases and flowered curtains hung at the doors and windows.
The morning hours were spent by the two friends in conversation, but the dinner with table napkins and changes of plate was so surprising to our traveller, unaccustomed to such luxury, that it nearly took away his appetite. One morning Emin invited his friend for a walk to his storehouse and the government garden, of which he was very proud. Countless lemon and banana trees, full of fruit, shaded the passageway. Bitter oranges, sweet lemons, oranges and pawpaws, which are somewhat like our melons, only sweeter, were also cultivated. White and yellow and exceedingly fragrant flowers and golden and red fruit shone in the dark foliage everywhere. Emin had also imported pomegranates, small fig trees, and grapevines. Of vegetables there were our cucumbers, several kinds of cabbage, all the Arabian vegetables, as well as the cassava, the sweet batata,[5] and sugar cane.
The government made a profit out of the garden as the surplus of its products was sold daily for a fixed sum. There were such gardens at all the stations and Emin exerted himself to supply the natives with seeds of all kinds and instructions how to plant them so that they might have the benefit of fruit and vegetables. He explained, however, that the negroes were so easy-going and childlike by nature that he always had trouble with them. They cultivated rice, coffee, cotton, and all the products of Emin’s garden, but in spite of all his admonitions they would never remember to retain seed corn. So, when the time came for sowing, appeals for seed were made on all sides and the governor was kept busy in sending for it. The negro had no anxiety for the coming day, for “Father Emin” was in Lado. A visit was next made to the drug department, from which a shaded walk led to the back of the garden, where there were several cabins for the use of the sick. The walk was a charming one, as it was shut off from the vegetable garden near by by hedges of flowers.
They now reached a spot where the walk widened and Dr. Junker uttered an exclamation of joyous surprise. A lovely picture was before him. Under a canopy of blue and purple flowers and green vines sat a beautiful Arabian woman upon cushions rocking a charming child upon her knees. It was the little Ferida, Emin’s daughter, early bereft of her mother. She greeted her father with a joyous outcry, took the outstretched hand of the unknown guest in the most friendly manner, and gazed at him with indescribably deep, dark, serious eyes. She was a solitary child, without companions of her own age, without playthings or instruction, who would have had plenty of companions in Europe. She had to be carefully protected from the dangers of the tropical world, from snakes and deadly scorpions, which frequently made their way into the house through open windows. She could never leave the garden and go down to the river, for beasts of prey, which they often heard howling not far away, frequently attacked people and dragged them off. So Ferida had to stay the whole day with her dark-skinned nurse, a tall woman in a scarlet undergarment and white loose wrapper, eagerly waiting for the evening hour when the father would have time to see his darling.
At such times the serious man and the lovely child would sit close to each other upon a bench in the dense shade of the bananas, watching the play of the shadows which the bluish moonlight made through the foliage upon the dark red ground. Over all reigned a mysterious silence, only broken by the rustling of the banana leaves. Great bats flitted like spirits through the air. “The father of the four wings,” as the Arabs call the nightjar, with its long fantastic feathers, which in flying give it the appearance of a dragon, flew noiselessly about. Bluish lights marked the course of the great “lamp carriers,” the tropical fireflies, and whirring night butterflies fluttered about, hardly visible to the eye in their dark dress. All nature was filled with the deepest peace. Then Emin would tell her of his quiet peaceful life in the far northern cities; of his joyous yet strenuous student life in beautiful Berlin; of his journey over the blue sea, which Ferida cannot yet imagine, notwithstanding his description of it; of Constantinople and its splendid palaces with their golden domes; of the desert, with its burning sun and the silence of the dreamy nights, when the stars are unnaturally bright; of brown and black people with their different habits and costumes; of wars and adventures; of the terrors of forest fires, and of the curious dwellings of the negroes. Then he would describe the plants, birds, and four-footed animals he had studied so closely and tell her fables and romances that he had heard on his many journeys from the natives, so that his child, who had no story books, might at least have a pretty one of her own father’s telling.
Chapter II
The Slave Question
Dr. Junker greatly enjoyed the quiet, peaceful life which his friend was leading on the extreme frontier of civilization, but many serious questions were troubling him, and he availed himself of the first leisure moments to ask Emin about the condition of the slave trade in the Soudan. “I heard in Europe,” he said, “that this shameful business was to be entirely suppressed and yet I have been for a year among these unfortunate people in the district of Bahr-el-Ghazal and have seen how the Arab robbers in armed bands have fallen upon the poor negroes, carried off the young women and boys, driven away their herds, often burned their villages, and left ruin and desolation in their wake. It is dreadful to think that so many of these poor captives have perished on the way from hunger and brutal treatment and that they have been needlessly sacrificed. And yet it is asserted that the Egyptian government has abolished the slave trade and made the exporting of blacks impossible.”
Emin replied in his deep, sonorous voice: “You have touched perhaps the most painful wound from which the welfare and civilization of this region, so richly blest by Nature, are suffering. But where shall one begin to cure the evil? The negro people of the interior sell their prisoners, captured in their petty wars, and look upon it as their surest source of revenue. The Niam-Niam and other tribes simply eat their prisoners, and it is surely a step in advance if they sell instead of eat the unlucky victims. Those Arab hordes which have invaded the Soudan from Egypt and Nubia with their hireling soldiers are the worst. They have established fortified stations from which they systematically conduct their hunting expeditions.
“The Nile officials should not let them escape with their black plunder, but no Egyptian or Turk can resist ‘backsheesh,’ and they know a thousand ways in which they can transport their black freight by night to the shores of the Red Sea and get it into Arabia. Those slaves which are actually sold for household servants are often better off, for most of the Moslems are kind to their servants. There is not much work for them, for every household has from twenty to thirty and sometimes fifty servants and they stay with the family to the end of their lives, for the Turks consider it dishonorable to sell their servants. But man-hunting is not the less objectionable on that account, and yet how are these dealers to support themselves? The government has monopolized the ivory business and there is nothing else to be found in the interior. The Moslems have learned no kind of hand work and they would rather starve than do it. I have driven that hangman’s brood from my domain, but it was not accomplished without hard fighting. You can hardly imagine what a multitude of lazy, useless vagabonds live upon the poor negroes.
“The people supply them with ivory, grain of various kinds, honey, wax, and butternut oil, but none of this comes to the government storehouse. It is all lavished in the most scandalous manner by the officials upon their hangers-on and dependents. These people not only pay for nothing, but they take everything they can. In the Amadi district, for instance, there are at least ten thousand negroes, and they had to support two thousand good-for-nothings by their field labor, for they have neither hunting nor live stock. They did not even allow these poor men to work quietly in their fields. If any complaint was made, in two days five hundred of them were carried off. But I have subdued them by fire and sword, and to-day my negroes enjoy their possessions and their families are brought up without the fear that their half-grown children will be carried off by brute force.
“It is difficult to succeed here, for the government does not support me and almost feels as if the officials were justified in robbing the negroes, as it sometimes cannot pay them for a year at a time. But the greatest absurdity is the edict issued from Khartoum, forbidding merchants to go to these provinces. During the whole six years of my administration here only nine steamers have come up the Nile, and we are so destitute of absolutely necessary things that I have to economize, for instance, in writing paper in continual fear that my stock will give out before I can get more.”
“I shall be delighted,” said Dr. Junker with a smile, “if I can help you with some trifles. I have still a hamper which I brought out of the wilderness that has not been touched, filled with all those objects that they do not care for there, and with which they would part for money.” “No, no, I do not need them,” replied Emin. “In a few weeks I shall be at home. How precious the word sounds!” But Junker produced his treasures, spread them out on the big tables, and invited Emin and his officers to help themselves.
All were delighted. A little package of cigarette paper was instantly pounced upon. A little Parisian folding table with two leaves, a woven hammock and a large tent screen were given to Emin as a present. Books, various instruments, a revolver, and a small gun were also very welcome. Dr. Junker’s servants and maids received for their share pearls, copper and bronze bracelets, needles, thread, knives, and scissors, which are used as a medium of exchange among the savages in place of money. Linen garments were also divided among them, but two pieces of woollen stuffs and a new costume were retained by Dr. Junker, as he reflected that he might have use for them later.
Chapter III
The Carpenter of Dongola and the Mahdists
“The All-merciful God has placed the sword of victory in my hands and declares to all peoples that I am the Mahdi. He has designated me by the white scar upon my right cheek. In the uproar of battle I will follow the gleaming banner, borne by Asrael, the death angel, the destroyer of my enemies.” With these words Mohammed Achmet, the carpenter of Dongola, a settler upon the island of Aba, announced to the world his mission to purify Islam and found a kingdom of justice and happiness.
This was in May, 1881. The attention of the Egyptian government was now fixed upon Mohammed Achmet. Hitherto it was hoped that they had only to deal with one of those fanatical outbreaks which are frequent in the Orient and quickly subside, but when the feast of Ramadhan occurred, the pallid apostle, haggard from his penitential fast, appeared with weapons in his hands. Several attempts to make him prisoner failed, which only tended to confirm the reports of his sanctity. Abu Saud was slain; and Raschid Bey, who tried to stem his victorious course, fell at the head of his overwhelmingly defeated troops. The Mahdi unfurled the banner of revolt in the country of Baggaria.
There were many grounds for discontent in the Soudan. The venality of the officials, the unjust and oppressive tax levies, the partiality shown to agents had quietly and slowly created excitement among the people. As Emin told his friend, the attempted suppression of the slave trade had obstructed the sources of wealth and together with the extortionate taxes had impoverished the country without having beneficial effects of any kind. The hatred grew daily and this precept of the Koran found an echo in their hearts: “Slay those who would slay you. Slay them wherever you find them. Hunt them down, for the temptation to idolatry is worse than death.”
The revolt was now in full blast. On the seventh of June, 1882, the army of Jussuf Pasha was surprised in the dense forests of Mount Kadas and annihilated. The Mahdi, as the result of this victory, secured large additions to his followers, sent an expedition to the south, invested Kordofan, and made himself master of the west bank of the Nile. In the meantime there was such unrest in Alexandria that the English government took steps to protect its own subjects and declared its readiness to conduct operations in the Soudan. Lieutenant Stewart was sent to Khartoum to study the revolt and suggest measures for suppressing it. Certain operations succeeded, but the results were not lasting.
In September, 1883, a large army was organized in command of General Hicks. This new army, of one thousand men, five hundred horses, and fifty-five hundred camels, should have been a match for the irregular troops of the Mahdi. The beginning of operations was auspicious. At Alloba one detachment of Mahdists was dispersed and on the second of November, while marching through a thickly wooded region, General Hicks attacked the rebels and forced them to retreat. But on the fourth of November they suddenly found themselves surrounded by a force over one hundred thousand strong and the heights resounded with the war cry, “Ti sebil Ellah,” the fatalistic invocation presaging destruction.
All efforts were idle. Their heroic courage could not enable them to break through that wall of iron which blocked every possible avenue of escape. On the afternoon of November 7 (1883) the attack was universal, murderous, and desperate. It was no longer a battle, but a massacre. Hicks was killed and all his soldiers with him. Mohammed Achmet collected the heads of the slain and sent them home as trophies. The cause of the prophet apparently was under divine protection. The revolt grew in importance and even the gentlest of the races made common cause with the victor. The fortune of war also favored the rebels in the eastern Soudan.
In Egypt the affairs of the Soudan provinces were regarded as desperate, and its inability to put down such a formidable rebellion was clearly apparent. The English government advised the removal of the government officials and soldiers from the Soudan, which included Emin and his people. It was a heroic undertaking, but one without hope of success. The removal of sixty thousand people through a country in open revolt, swarming with fanatical rebels, without sufficient means of transportation or arrangements for subsistence, was inevitably destined to end in a catastrophe. For this difficult undertaking General Gordon, who had before this rendered important service in the Soudan, was again called upon. He offered himself freely and willingly. His was a nature whose courage increased with each new danger and was never troubled with thoughts of the morrow. At Berber he declared the independence of the Soudan, gave up the administration of Kordofan to the Mahdi, and re-enacted the laws for the suppression of slavery.
On the eighteenth of February, 1884, he arrived at Khartoum and began at once to strengthen its defences. The magic of his name held the rebellion in check. Mohammed Achmet did not dare to resist him by force of arms until he had completely woven the threads of his mysterious plans. Gordon began to hope and devoted his entire attention to the evacuation of the Soudan. But in the east, at Suakim, things were going badly. The government’s troops were routed at El Teb and Sinkat, and Tokar fell. The rebels had the advantage of superior numbers. Thousands fell, but other thousands of the fanatics took their places. Gordon did not find a favorable opportunity to evacuate the Soudan. The English government would have nothing more to do with the matter, but public sentiment forced the premier, Gladstone, to authorize an expedition for the rescue of Gordon. It took a much longer time than was anticipated to organize this force.
The year 1885 was an anxious one for Gordon. Daily and hourly he waited for news of his deliverers. In the meantime the Mahdi invested Khartoum. He knew that the magic of his name and the triumph of his cause would be established by this last decisive test and that he must concentrate all his efforts upon the Nile. The English were everywhere delayed. Time was pressing and delay was dangerous. Two steamers at last were sent to Khartoum under command of Lieutenant Wilson. They came in sight of Khartoum on the twenty-eighth of January, 1885, and were received with a fierce fire of artillery. The city was in possession of the Mahdi. Wilson again sailed down the Nile. Both steamers were wrecked upon rocks in the river and he himself reached the English camp with the sad news.[6]
There were only a few survivors left to tell what happened at Khartoum. At seven o’clock on the morning of the twenty-sixth of January, 1885, there was unexpected alarm and uproar in the city. The air was filled with shouts and the people were rushing about in wild disorder. The plaza, where the governor’s palace stood, resounded with fanatical and insulting outcries. They were calling for Gordon, “the enemy of God.” Violence followed threats. Guns were fired, efforts were made to break down the palace gates, fugitives were murdered. The city was turned into a hell of cruelty and bloodshed. Gordon, the man “without fear and without reproach,” had been betrayed and sold to the enemy by the very men he had befriended and whom he was seeking to help.
At last the great door of the palace opened and a man in simple military uniform, his sword by his side and the distinctions he had earned upon his breast, stepped out. It was Gordon with his arms crossed upon his breast. He stepped back from the crowd and quietly surveyed it. His heroic majesty affected his bloodthirsty enemies and they were silent. It was the last sign of respect paid to the martyr by them. Suddenly a shot was fired and Gordon fell, pierced in the forehead. His head was carried upon a stake to the tent of Mohammed Achmet and his body was thrown into the Nile. A horrible massacre prevailed three days in the city.
Chapter IV
Calm Before the Storm
It is a proof of Emin’s personal honor and importance, as well as of the confidence reposed in him by the negroes and Arabs, that this revolt could spread for a whole year without affecting Hat-el-Estiva more than by disquieting reports. It was natural for the natives to make common cause with the Mahdi, for the Egyptian government had burdened them with heavy taxation. But such was Emin’s high sense of justice, his compassion for the oppressed, and his strict dealing with unfaithful officials or plundering Dongolans that there was no thought of revolt. Here and there, however, he discovered traces of disquiet, but could not find who or what caused it. Meantime he learned that the Mahdi had captured Kordofan. Governor Lupton Pasha was forced by his own people to give up Bahr-el-Ghazal. The enemy was near by. The non-arrival of the steamer increased his embarrassment. The government at Khartoum was in the greatest danger and could be of no help to him and he was greatly incensed at his seeming neglect.
At last treason and revolt began to appear in Emin’s province. The worst thing was the great uncertainty and the daily conflicting rumors. Now it was reported that seven thousand Arabs were approaching and several stations had been lost. On the next day messengers appeared from Bor and Schamlee, very important points, some of whom said that these places had been captured, others that they were all right. The bad news, however, proved to be true. Here and there rebellious Arabs with their servants and slaves were making their way through the country to join the Mahdists at Kordofan. The garrisons of stations again found it necessary to levy upon provisions, whereupon the negroes attacked and killed them. Finally, a fugitive from Kordofan told a strange story. The Mahdi informed his followers that a great commander had come to Khartoum from the north with sixty thousand soldiers. He meant Gordon. Then he showed them three baskets and said in the most ecstatic manner: “In these baskets are the souls of all these strangers. The earth will swallow up twenty thousand of them. Twenty thousand will disappear in the air. The rest will be slain by the Mahdi, the true Prophet.” Emin was encouraged by the first part of the story. That so great an army should be near gave him courage and hope for release.
The seven thousand Arabs which had been reported did not appear, for they had gone to swell the force at Kordofan and the real enemy confined itself to the Arabian domains in the province. The west stations were strongly fortified. Several of the unimportant ones had been abandoned, but Amadi, a strong frontier fortress and the bulwark of Lado, was surrounded by ramparts and had a large garrison. It could resist the onrush of the enemy possibly until the rainy season, but after that help must come from Khartoum.
Meanwhile the days slipped quietly by without bringing any decisive result, good or bad. Emin had grown gray from anxiety. He would not surrender his province to the enemy at any cost, but was it in his power to drive back the Mahdists when they came by hundreds of thousands? On the other hand, there were all his faithful ones, his negroes, who loved him like a father, exposed to an uncertain fate. He resolved to do everything possible to hold the government of this beautiful country, though he knew not whether there was still a government.
The governor concealed his anxieties and doubts from his officials so as not to dishearten them and determined upon an undertaking which should divert the thoughts of the people from the uncertain future. He decided to strengthen the defences of Lado and with the help of the soldiers and natives to dig a deep moat around the station and utilize the dirt thrown out as trenches. The work was directed by Mahmoud Effendi, an Egyptian officer, who had served in the last Russo-Turkish war and was a very skilful engineer. Hundreds of men worked from morning until night and by the end of October the moat was extended to the river. The Nile was then at its high stage and the water flowed into this new canal, in which later draw wells were made for watering. At the main entrance to the station, from the west, a passageway was left. Dr. Junker advised the construction of a small drawbridge at that point and Mahmoud Effendi supervised and constructed it very skilfully, notwithstanding his scanty material. Emin and Dr. Junker in turn daily supervised the work, which was now progressing satisfactorily. Some little pieces were played by their trumpeter for the encouragement of the soldiers and Emin Pasha himself often enjoyed it among his sugar canes and lemon trees.
In the meantime there was a lack of the most necessary things. They lived principally upon the red durra, a species of millet, which had a bitter and unpleasant flavor. There was a certain amount of meat on hand, far from sufficient, however, and in place of other drinks they were supplied with a liquor made by themselves and served in such abundance to the soldiers that it resulted in universal drunkenness. The coffee was almost too bad to drink, being adulterated with mallow seeds. Sugar had long given out and honey was used in its place. Emin had made a valuable collection of ivory with which in Europe he could have procured himself and his officials the choicest dainties and all imaginable pleasures. There, however, it would purchase nothing and it was unlikely that the valuable stuff could be taken to the coast and made of any use.
Their clothing was in rags. Wool was spun by the negroes, but unfortunately the material was lacking. Skins were tanned and used as garments and they imitated a practice of the savages. They stripped the bark from certain trees and by careful scraping it produced a pliant stuff of a beautiful red or yellow color which hung from their shoulders in picturesque folds. Their shoes were very neat, for a skilful negro made them precisely like the European. Shoes were really indispensable there as the roads are so rough that unshod feet are easily injured.
The Christmas festival drew near, but it brought no pleasure. Emin and Junker sat together one evening. They had not a drop of wine. For a year and a half they had had no news from the outside; not a word of encouragement had reached them. Many a time they felt as if they should never again meet with their own kind, as if they were spellbound in a strange world among fierce savages and bloodthirsty men. Their simple and often scanty dinners were marked by a ceremoniousness and an expense in service which would seem amusing to an unprejudiced spectator. On New Year’s Day, 1885, Dr. Junker put on a fine, light gray European dress, saved over from better days, and came to wish the governor good luck. The officials went to the divan to greet him and were received in order according to their rank and served with sherbet, coffee, and cigarettes, treasures set apart for this day’s pleasure which gave all the more satisfaction as they had been so long deprived of them.
During all this time Emin Pasha never left Lado. Notwithstanding all his anxiety his scientific activity remained unabated. He took observations of the weather every morning and entered them in his diary. He paid a skilful Arab, Gason Allah, for keeping up his collection of stuffed birds. The Arab came early in the morning to receive his orders concerning hunting expeditions and sometimes the region thereabouts was traversed a week at a time to secure birds of different kinds. Emin Pasha himself was too shortsighted for hunting; indeed he could hardly recognize a person ten steps away. His warm interest in scientific studies helped him pass away these lonesome hours.
Thus we see the genial man in the midst of the alarming dangers which menaced him on all sides and the pressing cares which weighed him down, sitting quietly like a true philosopher and statesman and attending to his duties. Nothing can disturb his lofty thought, his proud calmness, his unshaken self-composure. He presents the type of a man whose mighty influence these uncultivated Arabs and negroes could not resist, and which strengthened all in holding out against the danger encompassing them on every side.
Chapter V
The Enemy Approaches
Thus patiently waiting, each daily duty was accomplished. Then came alarming news from the north. Kerem Allah spread broadcast this proclamation of the Mahdi written in the bombastic style of the Orient:
“In the name of God, the all merciful, all pitiful! Glory to God, our gracious Lord and our prayers and submission to our master Mohammed and his own.
“This from Mohammed, the Mahdi, Son of Abdallah, to his representative, Kerem Allah, son of the Sheik Mohammed, upon whom may God shine in His goodness and ever protect. Amen!
“Receive from me this greeting and the mercy and blessing of God. I desire you to know that in accordance with the unfailing promises of God and His unchanging goodness, the city of Khartoum was captured with the help of the Living and Eternal on Monday, the ninth Rebi Ahir of the current year, early in the morning. The soldiers of the faithful stormed the entrenchments with faith in God, the Lord of the world, and in a quarter of an hour or less the enemies of God fell into their hands. They were destroyed to the very last one and their defences also. Although they were strong they were shattered at the first attack of the army of God and sought safety by rushing into the villages, but our army followed them and slew them all with sword and lance. The others who had closed their doors in their fright were taken prisoners and killed and only a few of the women and children were spared. But Gordon, the enemy of God, whom we have often admonished and warned to desist and surrender to God, has never consented since he was a rebel and leader before. So he met his fate, reaping what he had sowed, and God sent him to the place of His wrath, and thus the house of the unjust was destroyed, thanks be to God, Lord of the world, who chastises those who deserve it with fire and rewards the just with a home in Paradise. God protect thee from the faithless, Amen, with the sanction of the Highest and Greatest, the Sender of good. Only ten of our own followers died the death of faith in this victory and no others were injured. This is the mercy of God and from him is the victory for which we give Him thanks. And do the same and take my greeting.
Kerem Allah
Representative of the Mahdi in Bahr-el-Ghazal and Hat-el-Estiva
January 28, 1885
A SERIOUS ACCIDENT TO EMIN
Upon the heels of these dreadful tidings came the news that Amadi had fallen. Singularly enough this lesser calamity made more impression than the terrible event at Khartoum, for the connection with Egypt was now forever broken and all hope of help from the north vanished. But as false reports had come from Kerem Allah so frequently they simply did not believe it, but regarded it rather as an invention intended to induce Emin to surrender. Great differences of opinion existed as to the measures to be adopted. Some were in favor of retreating northward, but Emin regarded the road to the south as the only right one. The force of Kerem Allah was only five miles distant and in one day they could reach Lado and then there would no longer be room for hope.
Captain Casati, an Italian traveller, who was in Lado at this time, as it was too hot at Bahr-el-Ghazal, vigorously opposed Emin’s decision. “I know that the danger is imminent,” he said, “but that is no reason why we should fly.”
“But what else can we do?”
“Defend ourselves. Lado cannot fall in a short time. The enemy cannot long maintain a siege with many people, for the country is destitute of subsistence. He must buy corn at Makraka and that is a long way off.”
“But they are already well provided. The Arabs supply them with everything they need, and we here in Lado, even if we are not overcome by arms, will perish from hunger.”
“That cannot be possible. We have the river behind us. We can get corn from the fertile country of Gondokoro.”
“Yes, but if we go southward we will find corn in the country of the Mahdi, and if we get through to Lut it will be easy for us to establish communication with Unjoro and Uganda.”
“My dear Doctor, do you not think the retreat will be even more difficult and dangerous than the defence?”
“How? What have we to fear?”
“Kerem Allah, you say, is marching victoriously against Lado. Before he succeeds he will find out what direction we are taking for our retreat. He will follow us, not by way of the river, but by a shorter route across the country. Imagine yourself attacked from the heights and cut off from the river and tell me then if there will not be a catastrophe.”
“What would you do? What do you think?”
“Leave the country by the northeast. But to do this the retreat must be made cautiously and quietly. I am not speaking of the soldiers. Alarmed by the fall of Amadi, they will not resist a retreat. And if we take a northward route, they will be more confident and follow.”
“And do you think that such a plan, if I submit it to my officers, will be accepted?”
“Without doubt. They will depend upon the assurances of their master as usual and give their full consent.”
In the morning after this conversation Emin held a council in the divan at which all the officers and officials were present. The decision was left to them whether they should go north or south. “To the south,” was the universal answer. Possibly they had the feeling that Emin favored that direction.
Casati was very indignant, but Emin was right. Going to the north through a country subject to the Mahdi, with distant Egypt as their terminus, while Khartoum lay in ashes, was going to certain death. Certainly if the governor had acted without the consent of his people, they would have believed the senseless report that he would sell them as slaves in Unjoro and there make his escape to the coast alone. Emin’s black soldiers were not accustomed to yield absolute obedience. From time to time their opposition had to be overcome by the lash, and who can say that they might not finally have made a successful resistance when they found themselves leaving their homes and wandering about in unknown regions? In the meantime Emin went south with his whole force, officials, wives, and children, and piles of baggage to establish himself at his residence in Madelai. No Mahdist disturbed the expedition nor did they hear of pursuit or any attempt to cut them off. Casati had taken too gloomy a view of the situation.
In Madelai they heard nothing of the fearful hordes of Kerem Allah. The people gladly turned to farm labor and the looms were at work again. Emin resumed his scientific pursuits and had it not been for his utter seclusion from the world and his lack of ammunition which had been nearly exhausted in subduing the savages in his vicinity, he and his people, who were absolutely loyal to him, might have been glad to remain to the end of their lives in this lost nook of the world. It was imperative, however, to secure the possibility of return, and on this account Casati was sent to King Kabrega at Unjoro, whom Emin had previously known and who had given him many proofs of his friendship.
Chapter VI
Casati’s Adventure
On the second of June, 1886, Casati had a public audience with King Kabrega. The monarch wore an elegant cloak of wonderful fineness and a red head-covering in the Arab style. He sat in a great armchair with his “exalted” feet resting upon a beautiful leopard skin. His colossal figure, which was above the ordinary height, an expressive countenance, rather overbearing than friendly, and his very ready tongue and studied movements made a pleasant impression upon everyone who met him for the first time. His first-born son sat at his left, upon a stool, the others standing. His leaders were camped in a circle about the cabins, sitting, Arab fashion, upon the ground covered with green papyrus. Behind the king there hung a silk drapery of Indian handiwork, brought from Zanzibar, and behind this drapery from time to time children’s faces, full of curiosity, peeped out. Six youths of the most distinguished families, with weapons in their hands, stood around the throne. Casati sat at the right of the king, a few steps distant, and presented the message of the governor.
Emin requested a free and open way for the transmission of his letters to the coast, free passage of soldiers and officials to Egypt, and lastly the privilege of securing produce from the merchants of Unjoro and the sending of a representative to Madelai. The king seemingly assented to all the propositions, but Casati quickly observed that a hostile faction ruled him and that his good intentions might not be carried out. The passage of the post was permitted, but letters coming from the coast had to be submitted to certain conditions. Troops were also allowed free passage, but only in single detachments and a limited number at a time, which made it easy to attack and destroy them. Kabrega agreed to send a representative to Madelai and was generous in words and promises for his “doctor friend,” as he called the governor. The second audience took place on the tenth of October, 1886.
“The governor,” said Casati, “begs permission to establish two military stations on the lake” (Albert Lake).
“And what are you going to do at the lake?”
“The soldiers at the northern stations are in daily danger of attack by the rebels at Khartoum.”
“So, you intend to take possession of my territory?”
“On the contrary, our stay will be short. At a favorable opportunity we will withdraw and you will not only be ruler of Schuli and Lut, but will have the warehouses which are well supplied with ivory, iron, and brass. The two Egyptian steamers in a short time will enable you to compare in resources with Waganda. But why do no brokers come here? It seems impossible that Mackay “The Wagandans have placed obstacles in the brokers’ way. But have the Arabs never delivered letters or newspapers to you?” “No, we should not venture to avail ourselves of their services without your permission. But we are not concerned about the Arabs leaving us, for the moment we have the royal word that is sufficient security for us.” “Yes, you can depend upon me. I am Emin Pasha’s friend.” “Then will you grant what I have asked?” “This very moment I grant what my friend asks. Establish your stations on the lake. I will issue orders to my chiefs to furnish corn to the soldiers who are stationed there.” “I pray you for another favor.” “Speak. I am ready to grant whatever you wish.” “Biri [an Arab trader] left the coast for here two months ago and is detained by your people on the frontier. Issue an order for them to let him come.” “And how do you know Biri is there?” “I know it.” “Who told you about it?” “No one.” “It cannot be possible.” “Oh yes, very possible. Listen to me. When Dr. Junker left [Junker went to Zanzibar when all hope of going to the northern route vanished] he promised the governor to send necessary supplies by Biri. It is not only possible, but certain, that he must be here.” “Biri is sent to make trouble in my kingdom. He shall not set foot in it.” “You are wrong. He must come. We are here in consequence of your express assurances. We expect that they will be carried out.” “It is my people who do not wish Biri to come here. I cannot oppose them. It is for my interest to keep their good-will.” “It is the evil Abd Rahmann [one of Kabrega’s ministers] who is ruining your country with his pernicious influence.” “I am the king. I command and do not need instruction from anyone as to my duties.” “I well understand the truth hurts you, but you cannot prevent it being told to you. Emin Pasha wishes Biri to come. If you do not obey, he will feel compelled to resort to other means.” “And what?” “He will write to Said Bargash of the Egyptian government. What will you say then?” “By what route can he send letters if I close mine?” “By a hundred ways, for there are as many. He first applied to you because he regarded you as a friend and not because necessity forced him to.” “It is not possible that Emin would have thought of this if you had not made the suggestion. This plan for my disadvantage originated with you.” “It is an honest man who is speaking to you. If I had been dishonest I would have overwhelmed you with compliments to secure your favor and attention.” “Biri shall come in the morning.” “Good! I thank you.” Biri came and Emin awaited him with his steamer. His joy was great, for the supplies were urgently needed. He went back with a handsome quantity of ivory to be used in exchange and left hope in all hearts for the future. But things went far differently in Unjoro. The old minister Katagora, Emin’s stanch friend, died suddenly and, as was openly declared, by poison. On the morning of his death the king declared that from now on he would rule with the small and no longer be influenced by the great, and the dying minister suddenly heard at the door of the palace a crowd of boys shouting, “He’s dying now.” It was only his inordinate eagerness for ivory and weapons that induced Kabrega’s apparent friendship. His hostile feelings began daily to reveal themselves. Merchants were strictly forbidden to sell their wares to Emin’s people. One Abu Bekr, who brought supplies for the government from Uganda, was set upon, robbed, and driven across the borders. The natives were forbidden to sell corn and other produce to Casati. The ivory sent to the king as compensation for allowing Biri’s caravan to pass through the country was sent back. “The horns of my cows,” said Kabrega, who was very proud of his herds, to Casati, “are longer than the elephant tusks you have sent me. I don’t know what to do with them.” “I am sorry,” replied Casati, “that the king disturbs our good relations upon such empty pretences. So far as the ivory is concerned, I will hold it subject to his orders.” The whole of the next year was occupied in diplomatic efforts to secure the good-will of Kabrega, but he had learned that Emin’s strength was not so very great and Casati, who would not forsake his post or do anything to diminish the importance of the governor, was treated disrespectfully. On the third of January, a messenger came from the south with the news that Europeans with a well-armed force, in Zanzibar dress, had arrived there. “God be thanked for his help in time of need.” But Casati was rejoicing too soon, for the arrival of the strangers exposed him to new dangers. The report of this invasion by armed Europeans of course reached Kabrega and aroused all his suspicions. Had he not already conjectured that Emin would construct those stations on the lake because he had designs upon his country? All his promises to withdraw from the stations some day and leave him with great riches were nothing but empty deceit! Now help was coming from the south, a strong army with European guns, that would attack his country on two sides, capture Unjoro and settle down there as white men had often treated other negro races. But this treacherous messenger who had deceived him all the time and kept him to suspense should pay the penalty. Casati knew his danger, but he faced it bravely. On the ninth of January, 1888, the Vizier Guakamatera invited him to come and see him. Casati went with Biri, who was there at the time, and his faithful companions, to the house of the great dignitary. What was their astonishment as they came in sight of it to find it surrounded by a large armed force! Biri whispered, “Let us go back.” “It is useless. We must go forward and hasten our steps,” said Casati. At the foot of an ancient tree, which was majestic in the abundance of its foliage as well as in its height, sat the high priest with the minor magicians around him. He wore a splendid turban of red stuff, decorated with glass pearls and shells, and from his temples projected two ox horns upon which hung little wooden talismans. In his left hand he held a great horn filled with a magic powder and in his right the conjuring staff. He wore a white cloak of oxhide fastened to his left shoulder and sat upon a small stool in a serious manner befitting his high dignity. The palace door opened, trumpets sounded, and the vizier appeared, surrounded by soldiers. The troops scattered about the place, savage, naked figures with rattling iron rings fastened to their feet and hands, and arranged themselves in a close circle a little distance away. They were armed with guns, spears, shields, bows and arrows, fully a thousand strong. A mysterious frigid silence, which denoted an extraordinary event, pervaded the assemblage. All eyes were fixed upon Guakamatera, whose colossal figure towered above those around him. “This is treachery,” whispered Casati in Biri’s ear. “May God help us! All hope is useless. We must show courage.” Perhaps ten minutes passed after the coming of the vizier. Suddenly he raised his right arm. The signal was given. The air was filled with savage cries. The savages rushed upon their victims, seized them and bound them to trees hand and foot, so tightly that they could not move. Guakamatera approached Casati. “I am going by command of my king to your lodging. I know that you have an armed force there, which has come secretly and gradually from Wadelai, and with which you have intended to get possession of the country. Woe to them if they make the least resistance. They shall be killed at once.” “Under the conditions in which you have placed me by the order of your king,” replied Casati, “I cannot be answerable for anything that may happen when you reach my house. In the meantime I advise you to take my companion with you. He can carry instructions from me and they will be faithfully obeyed.” “Good! Give him the instructions.” “The government’s soldiers shall lay down their arms, and my companion shall obey at once what Guakamatera orders. No one shall oppose him or protest.” The vizier left, accompanied by his troops, leaving three hundred behind to guard the prisoners. Casati’s house was searched. All the collections to which he had devoted a lifetime, as well as Biri’s goods, were carried away and the servants were made prisoners. Naturally their treatment was no milder than that to which their master was subjected. The vizier returned about five in the afternoon, the prisoners having stood tightly bound during his absence, without a drop of water to quench their thirst and exposed to the maltreatment and insults of the brutal guards. He had put on finer attire and seated himself in the great judges’ chair, while his warriors gathered about him to receive instructions. Thus Emin was in the power of his barbarous inferiors, who, if they felt so disposed, could end his life any moment. But the province was in danger of being overrun by the swarms of Mahdists, and in that case there would be no alternative for man, woman, or child, but death or slavery. The efforts of the relief expedition had been wasted for a year, a very hell of torment had been endured, and hundreds of lives had been sacrificed, only at last to hasten the doom of Emin, for there is no doubt that the arrival of Stanley with his tattered, hungry people kindled the torch of revolt. The people of the Equatorial Provinces would not leave their country and exchange its comfort for poverty and wretchedness, and deaf to every protest of reason imprisoned their governor, who they believed would take them to strange countries, sell them as slaves, and forsake them. Fortunately Jephson reached the camp and Stanley learned from his own mouth what had transpired. He described the dissensions and insubordination of the Soudanese officers which made it impossible to organize any defence against the enemy approaching from the north. Stanley was indignant at the condition of affairs. “As they will not go they can stay and perish. But how can we save the Pasha?” “The Pasha would come to us if there were nothing to hinder,” said Jephson, “but he will not be rescued alone. These people have deceived him, imprisoned him, and treated him shamefully, and yet he will not be induced to forsake them when it means their certain destruction.” “That is bad,” said Stanley. “We shall have to carry him off by force.” The situation was a doubtful one. Stanley could not wait any longer at his camp on the shore of the lake, for he was in a country destitute of supplies and he was constantly exposed to danger from the hostile people in his vicinity. At last he succeeded in getting Emin with some of his most faithful officers to come to the camp and after endless discussions, deliberations, and protests, the tenth of April, 1889, was fixed upon for the march to the coast. Those of the Soudanese who would not join them within two months must take the consequences. Emin gave up with a sad heart. Over and over he declared he could not leave his people. The indifferent manner with which Stanley imposed his will grieved the man whom the negroes rightly designated as “father and mother of their country.” At last he had to yield. Of all his people only six hundred were in camp at the right time and saved from the dreadful cruelty of the Mahdi. On the tenth of April, 1889, the horn gave the signal to prepare for departure. Stanley kept his word. The caravan was arranged in marching order and at seven o’clock moved away, while behind them a dense black cloud of smoke and crackling flames from the burning camp said farewell to them. Their course took them over a range of grassy, treeless hills, whose monotony was dispelled by valleys with groups of palms. Farmers and shepherds occupied the region and millet, sweet potatoes, and bananas were cultivated. The march was very regular when one considers that the most of the people were unaccustomed to efforts of this kind and that there was a considerable number of children and women and old broken-down men. Stanley rode at the head of the expedition followed by the Zanzibarites and Manjema bearers. Emin led his own people and hardened veterans brought up the rear, who urged on the laggards and relentlessly drove them along. Ferida rode continually by the side of her tender father. He now began to rejoice for her sake that they were going to a safe and peaceful country, where his little daughter could be educated and properly brought up. Emin thought with a sad heart of those left behind and there was much to trouble him on the journey, for his servants and soldiers were so thoroughly convinced that they would be abandoned at Wadelai that when they pitched their camp that night at Niamgabe, sixty-nine of them eluded the vigilance of the sentinels and escaped. So sure were they that they would be attacked by the natives on the road that the most stringent measures were adopted to prevent further desertions. Unfortunately Stanley was taken seriously ill at this time, and they had to remain at Niamgabe nearly a month, until by the efforts of Emin and Dr. Parke, he recovered. It became difficult, therefore, to procure provisions at that place and still more difficult to maintain order in the great expedition. Early on the eighth of May they moved forward again and Emin found much consolation in turning his attention to scientific matters. He discovered new and unknown species of plants and insects which he investigated and added to his collections and soon made the greatest discovery of all. For the first time he had an opportunity to make a close observation of a great mountain phenomenon, which had been seen from a distance by Casati and by Stanley on the first expedition, but which was now thoroughly investigated for the first time. This was the snow mountain Ruwenzori (Cloud King), as the natives called it, according to Stanley, separating the Albert Nyanza from the Albert Edward Lake. Its mighty glaciers and copious rainstorms fed the Semliki, a great tributary of the Nile, thus solving the question of the sources of this tributary which had so long been obscure. The spectacle of this snow mountain below the equator in a world of heat and sunshine is a magnificent one. Deep, dark valleys lie along its base. Beautiful trees, shrubs, and ferns bedeck its slopes, with timber below and the flowers of the Alpine world, while its lofty summit and glaciers belong to the region of eternal snow. In company with Lieutenant Stairs and forty men Emin undertook the ascent of the mountain, but did not get far because of deep intersecting valleys and the lack of food and proper clothing for the higher region. At the south end of Victoria Lake they turned southward and there took an easterly direction. On the seventeenth of October the French missionaries, Fathers Girault and Schynse, joined them. On the tenth of November the bearers shouted: “To-day we shall come to Mpapua,” and about noon from an eminence they beheld a station with a German flag waving. Lieutenant Rochus Schmidt welcomed them to German territory and accompanied them with his soldiers to the coast. They soon exchanged the sight of the parched and thorny wilderness for a land fragrant with lilies and clad in spring greenery. The Makata plain, with its green grass and its numerous groups of villages, was ample compensation for the four months of wretchedness and hardship they had endured. THE SNOW MOUNTAIN Shortly after this messengers from Major Wissmann, governor of German East Africa at Bagamojo, met them with ample supplies. As the travellers were pursuing their way by moonlight on the third of December they heard the report of a cannon. It was the evening gun at Zanzibar. The Zanzibarites gave a joyous shout, for it told them that their long journey across the continent was at an end. The Egyptians and their attendants also joined in the shout, for they now knew that in the next twenty-four hours they would see the ocean over which they would go safely and comfortably to Egypt, their future home. Major Wissmann went to the river Kingani to welcome the travellers, taking saddled horses with him which Emin and Stanley mounted. Accompanied by the major and Lieutenant Schmidt, they entered Bagamojo. The streets were decorated with palm branches and crowded with the dusky population extending good wishes to the approaching travellers. As they came near the major’s headquarters at their left they beheld the expanse of the Indian Ocean, a great, clear, blue, watery plain. “Look, Pasha,” said Stanley, “we are at home.” “Yes, thank God!” he replied. At the same instant the batteries fired a salute, announcing to the war vessels lying at anchor that the governor of the Equatorial Provinces had arrived in Bagamojo. They dismounted at the door of the German officers’ mess and were escorted to a veranda, decorated with palm branches and flags. Several round tables stood there and an elegant breakfast was served to which they did ample justice. The Pasha had never been in a happier mood than he was that afternoon when, surrounded by his friends and countrymen, he answered a thousand questions about the life he had led during his long seclusion in the interior of Africa. About four o’clock the rest of the expedition entered the city. The people were conducted to cabins near the shore, and when the bearers threw down their burdens and the sick men and women and tired children were provided for, all felt the greatest relief and understood the significance of this arrival at the seacoast. In the afternoon a banquet was given at which thirty-four persons were present, including the German officers and physicians, the commanders of the war vessels, various missionary fathers and Emin and Stanley as the guests of honor. Major Wissmann conducted his guests to a long dining-hall, below the windows of which the Zanzibarites were celebrating the end of their troubles by dancing and singing. The feast was an excellent one and was seasoned with universal joyousness. Major Wissmann made a speech of welcome to his countryman, “the meritorious and famous governor of the Equatorial Provinces.” The Pasha replied in a manner that delighted the whole company. He was particularly happy and genial and went from one end of the table to the other greeting his friends, and then stepped out upon the veranda. Suddenly Stanley’s valet whispered to him that the Pasha had fallen from the veranda wall and was dangerously hurt. Owing to his short-sightedness he had mistaken a window for a door, and stepping out had plunged to the ground. All rushed out and found him lying unconscious and near him a little pool of blood. Emin was taken to the hospital and at first suffered great pain. As his recovery from the fall would inevitably be slow, Stanley left on the sixth of December on the Somali, escorted to Zanzibar by the whole flotilla—the English war vessel Tortoise, the German vessels Schwalbe and Sperber, and Wissmann’s three steamers. He was received with great enthusiasm at Zanzibar and was overwhelmed with honor later in England, while Emin lay upon his sick bed in Bagamojo. Owing to the strenuous labors of the suffering victim for a year past and the shock to his nerves, Emin’s recovery was slow. It was only due to the watchful care of the German physicians, who firmly opposed his removal, that the accident did not have worse consequences. Major Wissmann, Lieutenant Schmidt, and all the German officers rendered most valuable assistance, and when Emin had recovered sufficient strength to get about again he felt as if he had returned home after a long journey. This feeling first came to him when he saw the German flag waving from the bastion of Mpapua, for the fatherland, as it were, had come to meet him. Emin had not gone to Germany, but Germany had come to Africa. There arose in his soul a longing to serve the fatherland in the foreign world. He gave the matter serious thought, however, before coming to any conclusion. First of all, he was an Egyptian subject, but the Khedive, as he was aware, had little for him to do. He was a governor without a province and in Alexandria or Cairo he would only spend a scanty pension in idleness while still feeling young and active. During the return march Stanley had repeatedly proposed to Emin that he should enter the service of British East Africa. That company would certainly have appreciated the service of such an experienced man, but it did not altogether suit him. He would travel with Stanley to Egypt and back to England to raise the necessary funds and associates in the undertaking, but he was not altogether pleased with Stanley’s company. He had been hurt several times by the stern and regardless action of the American. Perhaps Emin was not entirely free from blame. His own irresoluteness had often induced Stanley to adopt a very firm attitude, but whatever their relations were, their continuance was no longer desired by him. It was Emin’s dearest wish to remain in German East Africa, where he had been so cordially treated, and devote his service to the fatherland. To one of his retiring nature the idea of exhibiting himself in Europe was not attractive. He certainly would have received ovations everywhere. He would have been wined and dined and honors would have been showered upon him. But what did he care for them? His nature revolted against making an exhibition of himself and of becoming a central figure in celebrations. He would rather remain in Africa with his savages and collect beetles and bird skins. His thirst for knowledge was not to be appeased. Thus it happened that Emin, hardly arisen from his bed of suffering, was again contemplating a mission to the interior of that continent out of which Stanley had but just conducted him with so much effort. But one thing troubled him—his anxiety for his child. Ferida had been kept far away from him during his illness and when she was brought back to him her joy was unbounded. “Oh papa,” she exclaimed, “now you are never going away from me again. We shall always be together.” Such appeals were hard for the father to bear after he had come to the decision to send her back to Europe. But the thousand anxieties which he had felt for the little helpless being in the wilderness were a lesson he could not for an instant forget. Now that they were at the coast, there was an opportunity to send her to her relatives in Germany without fear of danger. It would be wicked to take her with him again into a strange land. So there came a tearful leave-taking. How hard it was for the child to obey the will of her father, although her old and trusty Arab nurse was going with her. It seemed to the little one that her heart was breaking and that she was going alone into a far-distant strange country. It was a bitter task for Emin also to separate from his child. He stood upon the shore and watched the steamer until all that he could see was a little cloud of smoke on the horizon. Then he turned away and sighed heavily. He had a presentiment that he might never see her again. Poor little Ferida! What a sad journey for her. The Arab attendant, who had been in Emin’s house so many long years and had been considered true and devoted to the child, followed her own selfish designs. She schemed to appropriate her money and for this purpose presented in Cairo the papers, which proved her to be Emin’s daughter, for the purpose of securing the eight years’ arrears of pay due Emin. Fortunately her trick was prevented by the German ambassador, but he could not prevent the vile woman from tattooing the helpless little creature’s body, naturally a painful operation. These troubles passed, however. Ferida was placed in a railway carriage, this time under careful oversight. She passed through countries which seemed strange to her, especially when she found that all the people were white. At last came a day when a gracious lady folded the poor fatherless child in her arms, and, caressing her a thousand times, called her her dear little daughter. It was Emin’s sister, Fraulein Schnitzer, who took the little one to Neisse and cared for her as a mother. On the twenty-sixth of April, 1890, Emin left the coast in company with Lieutenant Langheld and Dr. Stuhlmann, a young Hamburg scholar, who assisted the Pasha in his scientific investigations. A hundred soldiers and four hundred armed bearers were with the expedition, which was directing its course for the great Victoria Nyanza. The object of the expedition was kept absolutely secret and the preparations were made very quietly so that the English should not frustrate the German plans. The principal features of the plan for the journey were arranged by Major Wissmann. The line of the northern frontier was fixed as extending on the coast from Wanga to Kilima Ndschan, and across Victoria Nyanza through Buddu to the north to the Albert Lake. North of this line the English territory begins and an agreement bound the Germans not to cross it. At the outset the march, so long as it led through the coast region, was everywhere a difficult one, for the floods of the rainy season made the roads almost impassable and the fording of the swollen streams was dangerous to life. Shortly fever broke out, which is more dangerous in the open country than in the woodier regions. MAJOR WISSMAN On the nineteenth of June they met the expedition of Dr. Peters and Herr von Piedemann, who had started the year previously for Uganda, to supply Emin with munitions, but had been prevented from getting there by the prevailing disorders. Great was their surprise at finding Emin, whom they were seeking to rescue, leaving the coast fresh and active, with the intention of penetrating the interior as far at least as he had been before. Dr. Peters shared Emin’s opinion that the Germans should occupy Tabora, but Major Wissmann had strictly forbidden this as he feared that the undertaking was too great for Emin’s small force and a disaster would injure German prestige among the Arabs. It seemed, however, as if Emin were in the hands of destiny. He had issued his orders to march directly to the Victoria Nyanza, but it was impossible for him to secure the necessary number of porters. At last, as he succeeded in getting eighty-six Waramboans who lived in the neighborhood of Tabora and were going in that direction, he determined to go there. Everything went as he wished. Arriving at Kigwa, he was met by a deputation of Arabs who invited him to Tabora. They came from the Waramboans, whose chief had been killed in a battle with the Wangomans, and who implored the help of the Germans. They were on good terms with the colony. They had rendered good service to Wissmann in his encounters with Arab revolters and naturally believed they ought to have help in return. So by dealing with them in a peaceful way, as well as by his familiarity with their habits and his skill in handling them, he succeeded (August 1, 1890) in making an agreement with them, the principal points of which were as follows: “All Arabs must subject themselves to the German government, with all their relatives and possessions, and hoist the German flag as a sign of their loyalty. They will be allowed to select their own governor, who shall be approved by the German government and be paid by it. The property rights of the Arabs and the practice of their religion shall be recognized by it. The governor shall maintain order and furnish German expeditions with supplies. Slave trading is strictly forbidden.” Thus Emin rendered great service to his government without loss of life and at a nominal cost. Then came a message from the French missionaries at the south end of Victoria Lake announcing threatening movements on the part of the natives which obliged him to go there with his entire forces. Arriving at Bussisi the danger seemed to be over, but the missionaries directed his attention to the strong Arab colony of Massansa, which was the headquarters of the slave trade. Peaceful negotiations were useless. A battle was fought, the village was stormed and rich spoils of ivory, arms, and slaves captured. Unfortunately four Arabs who were taken and sent by Emin to the coast for trial were murdered by the Wagandians as they were crossing the lake. That was a fatal event for Emin. The Arabs, with whom he had had such friendly relations, blamed Emin for the murder, claiming that he must have known the Wagandians were the deadly enemies of the poor prisoners. They swore eternal hatred and revenge, and they kept their oath only too well. Emin finally decided to go to the west coast of the lake and establish a strong German station for trading purposes. After mature consideration he decided upon Bukoba, on the northern frontier, for the people there were friendly and supplies were abundant. On the sixteenth of November his force was at Bukoba, and aided by the natives Emin began the building of the station. The rainy season was a great hindrance. Emin not only succeeded, but was fortunate enough to earn the gratitude of the natives, for just at this time the Wagandians made one of their customary plundering raids and were punished by him. At this time reports came from various quarters that the Maturki had arrived north of the Albert Edward Lake. The thought immediately occurred to him: “These are my people from the Equatorial Provinces. I must see them.” All other plans, all disobedience, all open hostility, all troubles were forgotten, for the Maturki had always been the governor’s truest friends. It seemed to him at that moment that they were dear children waiting for their father to take them home. All Dr. Stuhlmann’s protests were useless. In addition to this Emin received a message of disapproval from the coast, blaming him for his arbitrary proceedings at Tabora, also stating that Wissmann was not pleased with his going to the west shore when the south shore had been settled upon as the field of operations. This mistaken view of his purposes was unendurable to Emin, who for years had been guided entirely by his own judgment in all his operations. He did not wish to return to the coast until he had accomplished something important. As it was certain that the Soudanese would never appear on the Albert Lake he determined to carry out a scheme he had long planned in secret. He would go north, gather his people, and take them to German territory, or, still better, go west and crossing the continent make a union with Cameron.[7] A noble plan indeed! On the twelfth of May, 1891, Emin asked Dr. Stuhlmann whether he would accompany him to unknown regions or return to the coast. The scheme seemed so attractive that he declared he would not leave him and was all the more easily persuaded as the Pasha could only spare him a few men and Stuhlmann would have to traverse a highly insecure region almost destitute of subsistence. So they went northwards. The journey was slow and toilsome, for the packs were too heavy for the bearers and most of the people had to do double duty all day. Even yet Emin did not realize the difficulties. He was only occupied with the thought that he would see his former subjects again, whom he was forced by Stanley to leave. All this time the thought was uppermost in his heart what would become of these poor badly managed people, threatened north and south by fierce enemies and not united among themselves? Surely some dreadful fate would overtake them. At last came the day when the expedition actually entered the Soudan. It was hard for Emin to hide his excitement behind that demeanor of dignity and composure which he always maintained so as to keep the respect of his people. We cannot but think how eagerly their former governor listened to the story of matters in his province. It was sad enough! A part of the Soudanese under the leadership of Selim Bey had followed Stanley’s expedition, but as they did not overtake it they came back full of resentment against those who had left them to their fate. But their effort was not entirely unrewarded. One day a cow stumbled into a gully and in getting her out they found a number of chests which Stanley had deposited there, as he had not men enough to carry them, filled with powder and cartridges. That was really a Godsend in time of need. It was only the lack of munitions that made the situation of these poor people so doubtful, for they daily feared attacks from the Mahdists, in which case they would have been slaughtered like a defenceless herd. Now they could maintain themselves in the five southern stations of the Equatorial Provinces. The discord among themselves was so great that it sometimes led to bloodshed. Several officers had usurped authority and fought on opposite sides and some traitors had even gone over to the Mahdists to induce them to enter the country. Want prevailed everywhere. The herds of cattle had perished from a disease which at certain times in Africa attacks these animals as well as giraffes and gazelles. Provisions were dear and the people wore skins. There was no recognized general authority. Officers as well as soldiers promoted themselves, and sometimes so rapidly that, as at Kavalli, there were more officers than soldiers. Emin called his people together to make an agreement with them and the same discouraging result was repeated which had so sorely tried Stanley’s patience. One party was willing to go with the Pasha, conditional, however, upon taking the nearest route to the coast. But, as we know, Emin had projected bolder plans, in the development of which he counted upon the help of the Soudanese. The usual delays occurred and the evil-disposed circulated all kinds of senseless stories. They said that the Khedive, enraged because Emin had left his soldiers in the interior and set out for the coast alone, had driven him off and that he was wandering about trying to find a habitation. Notwithstanding these reports, he could not find it in his heart to leave the malicious inventors of them in the lurch. He writes to his sister: “I am foolish enough, in spite of everything, to keep my interest in these people.” There were a few faithful souls whom he would save even as Abraham appealed to his God: “Peradventure there shall lack five of the fifty righteous, wilt thou destroy all the city [Sodom] for lack of five?” After long delay twenty-nine men, one hundred and one women, and eighty-one children decided to go with their former governor, though the little band promised to be much more troublesome than useful to him. But Emin was not discouraged at this turn of events. He made no complaints and was only concerned that the people who had been assured of help should not suffer. On the tenth of August, 1891, Emin went farther west, and considerably farther north than Stanley had gone, in hopes of making a union with Cameron. All were of good courage except Dr. Stuhlmann, who had grave doubts, for Emin’s health was broken. The saddest feature was his failing eyesight and the certainty that the day was not far distant when he would be blind. The Pasha himself realized it and therefore kept steadily forwards with the energy of desperation instead of going back by a safer way. “What is there behind me?” he would reply to Stuhlmann’s protests. “The work to which I have devoted my life is in confusion and my activity in the German service has not been appreciated. Of what use is life if one does not accomplish something that is recognized as important?” These few words give us a glimpse into his proud nature. His important services had not been justly recognized. The Khedive had written him a formal letter of thanks and invested him with an empty title: his own subordinates had proved ungrateful; Stanley had so misjudged him that it grieved him, and now he had been censured by the authorities of the German colony. Notwithstanding all this, Emin now ventured one last effort to secure the recognition of a world which had so obstinately refused it. In that forest whose terrors we already know from Stanley’s description he wrote his last letter to his sister. It is with mournful interest that we read the last utterances of a man who was so soon to be called from the scene of his activities. The letter begins: “It will sound strange, but it is the darkness of the forest alone that has prevented me from writing. At our various camping places we have had to cut down trees to find a place for our tents and then it was so dark one could scarcely see to read. We have all the joys, but at the same time all the discomforts of forest life in abundance. Our joys are restricted to those pleasures which sublime nature furnishes for everyone, while slime and water, slippery ascents and descents, uprooted and fallen trees, myriads of ants and small stinging flies, torment the men. Added to all this we have at times the pangs of hunger, for wide stretches of territory are unpopulated and the plundering Manjemas have left nothing edible in the country. If one depends upon hunting he may soon starve, for the monkeys and gray parrots rarely ever come in sight. The forest is a paradise for the collector and my bird collection has many treasures. Frogs and insects also are very numerous. There are also surprisingly beautiful specimens of plants. If one could remain longer in a given place he would find an abundance of new things. The villages of the forest people lie mostly upon little elevations, forming wood islands, and all inclosed by fences of felled trees, and scattered about are plantations in which maize, beans, tobacco and bananas are raised. As to animals I have not yet seen a goat, and meat is in such demand that after skinning my birds they beg for the bodies. Dwarfs live in these woods and we have been visited by them several times. They were all hungry and begged for food, which we gave them sparingly.”Chapter XIV
The March to Zanzibar
Chapter XV
Emin’s MisfortuneChapter XVI
New PlansChapter XVII
Ferida’s DepartureChapter XVIII
Again in the heart of Africa
Chapter XIX
Again with the SoudaneseChapter XX
To the West
Their progress through the forest was more and more difficult as they were without provisions. Every day one or more of their number deserted, especially the Soudanese, whom Emin had induced with so much exertion to accompany him. It was particularly hard for Emin, who was in the rear, and the porters to urge on and encourage the sick and injured. There followed rainstorms which made the roads in this hilly country still more slippery. New terrors were added to the old ones. To prevent thievery about their plantations the natives had filled the ground full of sharp pointed pieces of cane, which pierced the feet of those stepping upon them. Six of the porters were so badly injured in this way that they could not carry their packs.
On the twenty-sixth of September, 1891, they approached the country of Momsu. The natives saw them coming at some distance away, but did not seem to be excited. Emin knew that he should soon reach the northern end of the forest and that he could make his way westward without much difficulty. All plucked up fresh courage, but on the next day the forest road abruptly ended and all their efforts to find a new one were useless. There was no other alternative but to go back to their camp of the day before and from there not attempt to go forward. Hope seemed at an end.
On the twenty-ninth of September Emin’s people held a conference with him. They notified him that the greatest dissatisfaction prevailed, that fifteen men had deserted, that the porters could not go any farther, and that they could find nothing to eat. Emin explained to them that they would soon come to a fertile country where there was an abundance of food. He would send out fifty of his most vigorous men, who would quickly return loaded with fruit and lead them safely to that blessed country. They were satisfied and the men were sent. But alas, after three days they returned empty-handed without even finding a beaten path. Firmly and unanimously they decided to go south, whence they had come. They were quiet and moderate, but no power on earth could have induced them to take another step forwards.
Emin was forced to submit, but he was exceedingly unfortunate. Had he only known that the Belgian station was not far away! Had his people followed him a few days longer he would have undoubtedly reached his goal, the west coast, and a splendid result would have crowned his efforts. Now he had to go back, hungry and discouraged. For twelve days his people lived upon banana roots and gourd leaves, which were almost destitute of nourishing qualities. It was hard to carry their packs and a fourth of the porters died on the way.
In this most disconsolate period Stuhlmann’s birthday anniversary occurred and it is difficult to describe his emotions when on the morning of the day Emin met him and presented him with a bottle of champagne and a beautiful watch. In the midst of all his troubles he did not forget to congratulate his affectionate friend. It seemed as if misfortunes were never to leave the expedition. Suddenly one of the porters was taken ill and showed very suspicious symptoms. He had been feverish for several days and soon an eruption appeared all over his body. It was the smallpox, hard as it was for Emin to admit it. If this terrible pest should spread among his people the prospects of the expedition would be forever blasted.
Chapter XXI
Emin’s Death
Camp was pitched in Undussuma to give the sick more careful attention and the exhausted ones time to recuperate. A severe epidemic of smallpox broke out there. Emin also had much to endure. His left eye was at last entirely blinded and an injury to his knee, to which at first he paid no attention, became inflamed, owing to the great dampness (it was the rainy season) and caused him much pain. Besides this he suffered from constant insomnia so that he grew very weak and could hardly move about. He was confined to his tent day and night, the prey of gnawing solicitude and racking his brain to find some reason for rescuing something where there was nothing to rescue.
One morning the Pasha invited Stuhlmann for an interview. He stated to him that a longer stay in that place would involve the death of all by smallpox and that isolation was impossible. It was his duty to remove the well ones at once. Stuhlmann must start homewards with them while he would follow after with the sick when they recovered. Stuhlmann refused to leave the Pasha, who was sick himself and in need of help, but Emin threw all his authority into the scales. As his superior he must be obeyed and he gave Stuhlmann a written order by which he could justify himself before the world and to his own conscience. So they divided men, weapons, munition, and supplies. Emin kept thirty-eight people, a part of them women and children, while Stuhlmann led one hundred and thirty-three to the coast and as a matter of fact saved them. On the tenth of December, in the early morning, Stuhlmann departed with a sad heart. “I hope,” said Emin, “to see you again in a month. If I am overcome by force and cannot come, remember me to my child.” Only a handshake, a last wave of the hand, and they parted, never to meet again.
After Stuhlmann’s departure Emin’s health improved somewhat, but many of the sick died. The natives had fled because of the pest and thus supplies could not be procured and there was great suffering from hunger. Dissatisfaction, drunkenness, and disorder prevailed and Emin had to resort to the lash. The Soudanese were again the worst offenders. In all his troubles Emin always found consolation in his scientific observations, which he entered daily in his diary, notwithstanding his impaired sight. As the sick were now recovering Emin began planning to resume the journey and he succeeded in inducing Ismaili, an Arab, to accompany him to the Congo and procure the necessary porters.
On the ninth of March, 1892, Emin left the camp, the scene of so many sorrows, still trusting in his people, though he had been expressly warned of their evil designs. But no choice was left him. Alone, he could reach neither the east nor the west coast. Now at the mercy of a hostile Arab, he was traversing that great region which had been visited only by slave hunters, and the thought of his own weakness was a great pain to him. How many years he had unweariedly fought these cruel men-stealers, inspired at that time by the hope that Europe at last would put an end to the infamous business. Now he looked out upon his province, which under his administration had been a scene of peaceful industry and of continually increasing prosperity, and heard only the shrieks of victims in the silence of the night. The little that we know of Emin’s fate is from his diary, which is brought down to the twenty-second of October, upon which date he met his fate, as the result of revenge for the four prisoners murdered by the Warambas, a crime of which he was believed to be guilty. Emin suspected all. It looks as if he did not try to escape from his fate. We read in his diary that the Arab chief, Kinene, met him and took him to his house at Kasango. “He wants to make sure of me,” writes Emin. He clearly saw through his designs.
On the following morning Emin sat upon the beautiful veranda of his false host’s house. Upon the table before him were spread out birds and plants, the spoils of the last few days, which he had investigated and whose characteristics he had noted down. Before him was a letter from the powerful Kibonge, whose possessions were on the Congo, inviting him in a friendly manner to visit him and promising him protection. Emin was in a cheerful mood. Once more it seemed that the cup passed from him. On the morrow he would leave, go to the Congo and thence safely to the coast.
Kinene entered and said: “Pasha, as you are going away in the morning, let your people go to the plantations and provide themselves with manioc and bananas. I will give them to you for the many fine things you have brought to me.” Emin looked up from his book and thanked him and then sent for his people. Kinene said: “Let your people leave their guns here on the veranda, for the women who work on the plantations would be terrified if they saw men coming with guns.” The men, fifty in number, did as he suggested and betook themselves to the plantations a mile away.
When they were gone, Kinene spoke in a friendly way to Emin and regretted his speedy departure. Ismaili and Mamba, a slave, stood behind Emin’s chair and at a sign from the chief seized him by the arms. Emin turned angrily and asked them what they meant. Then said Kinene: “Pasha, you must die.”
“What do you mean?” said Emin. “Is this a sorry joke? How dare you restrain me? What do you mean by saying I must die? Who are you, Kinene, that you should dare to kill me?”
Kinene answered: “It is the will of Kibonge. I must obey him.”
Three persons stepped forward and held Emin securely as he tried to free himself. When he saw that his efforts were useless, he said: “This is a mistake. Here is a letter from Kibonge which promises me safe conduct.”
Kinene replied: “Pasha, if you can read Arabic, read this letter.”
And Emin read the second letter of the false Kibonge, which ordered him to be killed. He gave a deep sigh, then frowned and said: “Well, you will kill me, but do not think that I am the only white man in this country. Many will come to avenge my death and believe me, in two years there will not be a single Arab left in this region to tell the story of the destruction of his people.”
Kinene remained unmoved and when Emin saw there was no hope of escape he protested no longer and Ismaili, his treacherous guide, severed the head of the defenseless one from his body.
Two years elapsed before definite news of Emin’s fate was received, and as nothing was heard of him all that time, it was generally believed that he had been killed by Arabs, and that the truth had been concealed. At last Baron Dhanis, at the head of a Belgian expedition, came to the vicinity of Kinene’s possessions. There by chance Emin’s trunk and diary were found in a cabin, and the discovery led to the arrest of Ismaili and three others, who had participated in the murder, and their confession. The murderers were condemned to be hanged. A year later the treacherous Kibonge was made to pay for his infamy, for he was taken prisoner by a European expedition and put to death.
Thus Emin, the quiet, genial man, who never did an injury to anyone, but conferred almost endless benefactions, died as he had lived—alone. The serious, strenuous work of his life brought him little gratitude. He lived to see the collapse of his great creation—the Equatorial Provinces. But the one thing which was his consolation in all his hard days and which was occupying him at the very hour of his death was his devotion to science, which did not die with him, but has been and always will be of great value to the world. The museums of Europe tell of the activity of this collector, and scholars who have studied his diaries are amazed at the richness of their contents. He will never die in the memory of his own people or of the civilized world; his name is indelibly engraved upon the tablets of history.