I confess that I felt a little tongue-tied, through not being myself entirely free from blame. I could not deny that I had three slaves of my own: these were Tikkitikki the Pygmy, Allagabo the Bongo, and Amber the Niam-niam. The other Niam-niam youth I left behind in the Seriba, after having gained him his freedom and seen him duly admitted into the Mohammedan sect by circumcision, the only means by which his social position could be secured. With regard to these lads I profess I had not the least squeamishness in carrying them away with me, and I felt none of that misgiving which other travellers have expressed when they have been tempted to a like proceeding. I felt that I could not leave them to a doubtful fate after they had been serving me faithfully for nothing, and attending me for two whole years in the desert; and I had no kind of idea that I was reducing myself to the level of a slave-dealer by determining to retain them and to introduce them to European civilisation, for if I left them behind I was quite aware that they would be immediately consigned to the ordinary lot of slavery. Rather was I disposed to compare myself with those noble-minded Orientals who, although they look upon the regular slave-dealer’s calling as the vilest and most degrading of all professions, yet do not consider the possession of slaves to be in itself illegitimate or inconsistent with the purest morality.
It may be well to transcribe here my original diary of the passage down the Gazelle. It will not, I believe, be without interest, if it be only to show that the length of the river has hitherto been much exaggerated on all previous maps:—
“June 26th.—Sailed for about four hours, until evening, along the Kyt. A light breeze. The Kyt channel from eight to ten feet deep; its bottom one great mass of valisneria.
“27th.—Dull, cloudy day. A contrary N.N.E. wind has prevented us from getting beyond the mouth of the Dyoor.
“28th.—Slow progress, on account of the continued N.N.E. wind. In the afternoon a more favourable breeze. The boat’s crew affirm that after passing the mouth of the Dyoor the water becomes whiter. I cannot say that I can perceive any difference; the water is clear and colourless, and free from any flavour of the swamps, as if it had been distilled. Elephants to be seen marching about the shore, considerably in front of the demarcation line made by the trees. To the west of the channel are columns of smoke from some adjacent murah. Acacia-forests (none of the trees more than forty feet high) line both sides of the land subject to inundation; nowhere do these exceed a width of two miles. We proceed through clumps of ambatch, and make a wide bend to the west round an island which the sailors call Gyerdiga. Continued sailing at night under a good west wind.
“29th.—Quite early at a place where the river is not 500 feet across; the contracted spot enclosed by bush-forest. Soon afterwards we pass the mouth of the Bahr-el-Arab. There is a favourable breeze from the south-east. In the afternoon we reach the first Nueir villages. Some of the great Balæniceps rex are standing on the white ant-hills; have they been there ever since I last saw them there, two years and more ago? At evening a negro is dying from dysentery; according to custom, the poor creature is thrown overboard before life is really extinct. I fear my own feelings of satisfaction at getting home again make me somewhat callous to this horrible proceeding.
“30th.—A clouded sky, and the wind contrary. We heave-to in a backwater that is overgrown with grass for seventy-five feet from either bank: a solitary doom-palm marks the spot. Again sail on throughout the night, the breeze having once more become favourable.
DOWN THE GAZELLE.
“July 1st.—At 8 o’clock A.M. pass the Nueir villages, at which we stayed for a day on our passage out. It is unsafe to land now; a Vokeel of Kurshook Ali’s was murdered not long since. The district is full of bushes; white ant-hills and low acacia-hedges are frequent. A hippopotamus is leaning against a great stem upon the bank; we approach within thirty paces of the flesh-coloured brute, but it makes no attempt to get into the water. A bullet is fired, but seems to take no effect; the great beast totters about as though it needed support. All the crew assert that it is hopelessly ill, and has gone, as usual, on the land to die; no one, however, explains why it still stands upright. Large herds of Dinka cattle graze on the northern bank. Towards evening we arrive at the lake-like opening by the mouth of the Gazelle, where the water is a mile across. A tremendous gale gets up from the N.N.E.; the boat is tossed about on the muddy bottom of the river and dashed against the floating islands of grass. The mast and sail-yards creak as though they must snap in two; the boatmen shout according to their habit, but the Reis cannot join them because he is hoarse with a cold. There is an incessant invocation of the saints of the Nile: a mingled outcry of ‘ya Seyet, ya Sheikh Abd-el-kader, Aboo Seyet, ya Sheikh Ahmed-el-Nil.’
“2nd.—A good west wind carries us betimes past the mouth of the Gazelle. I am surprised to find the floating grass in almost the same condition as in the winter of 1869; the water, however, is higher now, and consequently the entrance to the main stream is easier.”