The march of the sixth day led us through the territory of the Rek, a district remarkable for its wide sandflats. All along I had noticed that the pasture-lands were cropped so closely by the cattle that it might almost be fancied that they had been mown with a scythe; but although the grass was so short, it had, in consequence of the recent rains, a bright green look that was very refreshing.
Next day at noon we encamped beneath the sycamore by the wells of Lao. By some misunderstanding my people had come to the conclusion that we were to halt here for the night. Accordingly they unpacked all my things, and I was about settling myself in an empty hut when the tidings were told that the caravan had already renewed its march. By the time that I was again prepared to proceed the whole train was out of sight, so that under the guidance of a man who knew the proper route we had to follow in the rear as rapidly as we could. While we were on our way a violent storm came up from the west, and, bursting over our heads, soon put the whole locality under water. To add to our discomfort, our road happened to be through a wood and it was growing dusk, so that we had to go on stumbling into the continuous puddles, that were often very deep. In getting through these places I was at a great disadvantage; my heavy boots prevented me from keeping up with the light ambling trot of the natives, as I had constantly to stop and pull on first one and then the other, as they were half-dragged off my feet by the tenacious clay. Except a genuine African traveller, no one could imagine what ponderous lumps of mud stuck to the soles.
As we toiled along through the miry forest in the thick of the drenching rain, we were startled by hearing a volley of firearms in the direction of the caravan. Pitiable as had been our plight before, we felt it was worse than ever now; we did not doubt but that the party in advance had been attacked in retribution by the ill-treated Dinka. With throbbing hearts we reached the outskirts of the wood, every moment expecting to catch sight of the enemy who would cut us off at once from the main procession; but seeing the fires burning hospitably in the neighbouring villages we were soon reassured, and on rejoining our people found that the sounds that had alarmed us had been caused simply by the soldiers discharging their guns so that they might not become foul through the charges getting damp.
REMAINS OF SHOL’S VILLAGE.
Early next day, the eighth of our march, long before reaching the spot, we saw the tall columns of smoke rising from the murah of our old friend Kurdyook, the husband of the murdered Shol, and on approaching had the satisfaction of surveying the scene, which had long been strange to us, of a well-filled cattle-park. The very lowing of the herds was a welcome sound. Kurdyook himself soon appeared, and expatiated in very bitter terms upon the lamentable fate of his wife. We passed close to the spot where her huts had stood, and where our caravan had been so hospitably entertained on taking leave of her. The great Kigelia alone remained undisturbed in its glory; the residence was a heap of ashes, and there was nothing else to tell of poor old Shol’s former splendour than the strips and shreds of a great torn spirit-flask.
Very little rain had fallen here. The river had scarcely risen at all; we were able consequently to get down with dry feet to the edge of the Meshera, where, about noon, we were conveyed across to the little island upon which the Khartoomers pitched their camp. Between Ghattas’s Seriba and this spot I had counted 216,000 paces, showing that the entire distance we had walked was about eighty miles.
Except that the island which served for the landing-place had been completely cleared of trees the general appearance of the Meshera during the last two and a half years had undergone little alteration; the growth of the papyrus had diminished rather than otherwise, and the ambatch was still altogether wanting.
Not only attacks from the neighbouring tribes of the Afok and Alwady, but continuous outbreaks of cattle-plague had decimated the herds left by Shol, and there had been a great scarcity of corn. Boats, however, laden with durra had arrived from Khartoom, and, as a considerable portion of it was consigned to me, I availed myself of the opportunity to start a flourishing business with the natives, who in exchange for the corn brought me milk enough to make into butter. The milk was conveyed to me in separate bottle-gourds, and in order that I might get five pounds of butter I had to dole out in small quantities as much corn as would fill a wine-cask.
Before setting sail I had a good deal of squabbling with Ghattas’s people. I did not want to be brought into the close quarters which the limits of a boat’s deck necessitated with either lepers or slaves, and protested that if I did not shoot the first that came on board, I would at least take good care to report them to the Government. My endeavours in this way to secure my comfort were very far from being so successful as I wished. I had previously written to Kurshook Ali to engage the same boat which had brought him into the country to carry me back to Khartoom, making it an express stipulation that the boat should not convey any slaves. We had come to terms, and everything was apparently quite settled, when it turned out that the boat was not going to return until late in the year. To defer my departure so long was out of the question. Slaves or no slaves, it was all-important to me to be at Khartoom as soon as possible; and when I found that Ghattas’s people were this year going to ship only a limited number, I came to the resolution that, under the circumstances, I would take my chance with them. I knew that Sir Samuel Baker was on the Upper Nile, and did not doubt that his presence would have the effect of making the Government take the most strenuous measures against any import of slaves. I represented as strongly as I could to the people the danger they were incurring by having such property on board, but I might just as well have remonstrated with the winds. In spite of all I could say twenty-seven slaves were shipped, not avowedly as slaves, but so nearly in that capacity as at once to bring them under suspicion of being destined for the market. Undesirable as their company was, still I was thankful to be free from contact with any lepers; making the best, therefore, of an unpleasant business, I went on board on the afternoon of the 26th of June.
MY OWN SLAVES.