The expenditure of a few rounds of ammunition would have done for the Shillooks, notwithstanding their numbers. Nothing would have been easier, either, than to run the "Khedive" full steam ahead right into the middle of the canoes. But though such an act of barbarity might find favour in some eyes, it was repulsive, not only to the Europeans, but also to the Egyptian Commander, seeing that the natives had not attacked until after provocation on the part of the Nubian soldiers.
M. de Morin, who had been watching the turn of events from his boat, now thought it high time to interfere. Telling his rowers to pull alongside the boat occupied by the escort, he took hold of a hatchet and, without further ado, cut the rope by which the hippopotamus was being towed. The Shillooks stopped at once, and, forgetting all about their intended revenge, only thought of regaining the spoil they had so nearly lost.
Restitution having been thus made, M. de Morin bethought himself of another necessary duty. He accordingly made for the vessel to which the Nubians had just returned, grumbling and rather ashamed of their failure. He called Nassar, reprimanded him sharply for having allowed his men to attempt such an act of robbery, and ordered the immediate administration, in his presence, of ten lashes with the cat-o'-nine-tails to the back of each of the five men who had been the first to quit their vessel. At this time, on the eve of the departure of the Egyptian man-of-war, when the expedition was about to be left to its own resources, it was of the greatest importance, for the safety of all, to impose strict discipline on the escort, and to make it perfectly clear that the power of punishment was vested in the Europeans.
M. de Morin's firmness produced an excellent effect on all these men, who are just as ready to bite the hand that pats them as they are to lick the one that strikes them, provided always that the striker is possessed of assured force and incontestable authority. The white man rose a hundred degrees in the estimation of the negroes, and became at once, in their eyes, the veritable chief of the caravan.
The flotilla now resumed its voyage up stream. Throughout the day the town of Fashoda, the extreme limit of Egyptian rule, had been in sight, and our travellers were now entering a new region, Negro-land proper.
On the following day the expedition passed the mouth of the river Sobat, latitude 9°21'14' north, and a few miles farther on reached the Bahr Giraffe, a small river entering the Nile, between the Sobat and the Bahr-el-Gazal. Some hours later they came to the last-named river, and up it the Europeans, adhering strictly to their programme, had to make their way, leaving the Egyptian steamer to continue on her course up the White Nile as far as Gondokoro.
After having taken a cordial leave of the Commander of the "Khedive," of whom they could not speak too highly, Madame de Guéran and her companions went on board the vessel set apart for their use. The tow-ropes were cast off, the diahbeeahs hoisted their huge sails, and the European expedition, unsupported and unprotected, obliged to rely upon its own resources, veered off, under a parting salute from the guns of the "Khedive."
CHAPTER V.
Serious difficulties and obstacles without number were destined to present themselves on the very first day, as if to warn the travellers that two courses alone were open to them—either to retrace their steps whilst there was yet time, or to nerve themselves to the accomplishment of their perilous undertaking.
The Gazelle River, or Bahr-el-Gazal, up which they were sailing, bears no resemblance to the Nile. The latter, above Khartoum, is a majestic stream, increasing in volume as its sources are approached. Its banks are occasionally encumbered with floating plants, but a powerful current runs through their midst, and leaves a superb passage way, often quite free and clear, to the vessels which navigate it. The Gazelle River, on the contrary, resembles a huge marsh, whose waters appear to lie stagnant and overgrown by vegetation. A passage has to be made, at the cost of extreme and tedious exertion, through a narrow channel, amidst a mass of nenuphars, dense papyrus rushes, and small plants, called "selt," which choke every opening, close up every crevice, and, so to speak, bind one obstacle to another.