MOHAMMED DEFIES HIS ENEMIES.
The savages had no idea of the velocity of a bullet; they invariably ducked their heads as often as they could hear a ball whistling in the air; and it was a very ludicrous spectacle when hundreds of black heads that had been peeping from behind the trees would simultaneously disappear.
A CHALLENGE.
By sundown the whole region about us was clear of the enemy, and as darkness came on the bearers returned within the shelter of our abattis, laden richly with spoils that they had secured in the adjacent villages. Sentries and watch-fires were established, and the night was passed in a stillness that was rarely broken by a stray and distant shot. With the exception of a few Bongo-bearers who, yielding to their marauding propensities, had pushed too far into the hamlets, we had suffered no loss. Two of the Nubians, however, had received severe lance-wounds, and had to be carried back to the camp on litters.
It was currently reported among the natives that Mohammed was mortally wounded. Encouraged by the accession of fresh contingents during the night, they once again made the woods re-echo with their savage war-cries, amidst which could be heard the vilest and most abusive Arabic invectives that they seemed to have learnt for the mere purpose of vituperating their enemies. Mbahly’s death, however, was the burden of their chorus. “Mbahly! Mbahly! Give us Mbahly. We want meat.” Mohammed would not submit to these taunts. In spite of his weakness he insisted upon showing himself. With his wound firmly bandaged, he was conveyed beyond the camp to a white ant-hill, from whence he could be seen far around. For nearly a quarter of an hour he stood upon this elevation swinging his scimitar, and shouting with the full strength of his voice, “Here I am, Mbahly is not dead yet.” He then challenged them to come with a hundred lances if they dare, and retorted upon them in jeering scorn their cry of, “Pushyo! pushyo!” (meat, meat), always using the Niam-niam dialect, in which he was tolerably fluent.[51]
Mohammed was at once to be recognised by his Monbuttoo straw hat, with its bright-red feathers. Although all his compatriots would have considered it a degradation to adopt a savage costume, he always delighted, in these expeditions, to dress himself like a native chieftain. In order to give the natives a still further demonstration of his safety, in the course of the afternoon he made his nephew array himself in his own state attire, his flowing rokko-coat, and his stately plumes, and sent him to conduct a sally towards the north. This party, however, returned without coming to any engagement.
I spent the whole day in my own tent preparing the ammunition which I supposed would be requisite for my people if the state of warfare should last. Deer-shot, with some of a heavier description, I considered would be of the greatest service in the hands of unskilful marksmen. I had another occupation, which made me feel like a very Nemesis. I manipulated the heads of the A-Banga men which I had so recently appropriated. Probably with their own eyes these heads had watched the stewing of other human heads, but now they had to simmer on in my caldron. Although I was quite aware that the Nubians reckoned the bones of all heathens and unbelievers as entitled to no more respect than the bones of brute beasts, yet for decency’s sake I preferred performing the operation in the seclusion of my tent. Notwithstanding that my dogs had not had any animal food for several days, they could not be induced to eat a morsel of the boiled human flesh.
PURSUING THE FUGITIVES.
Just as it was growing dark we were startled, if not alarmed, by the appearance of a great troop of natives. The attack was not made, as hitherto, from the dense dark woods at our feet, but proceeded from our old path upon the south. Only the foremost ranks were visible, the rear being hidden by the high grass and bushes; but the wild cries, like the howling of a coming storm, testified to the overwhelming numbers of the aggressors. Half of our armed force issued from the camp in a compact line, and fired a volley straight upon the nearest of the assailants, five of whom were seen to fall dead upon the ground. The altered tone of the war-cry proved that many more were wounded, and as all the guns were loaded with a good handful of heavy shot this was sure to be the case; but this time the conflict came to such close quarters that two more of our men were severely wounded by the native lances. As soon as the attack was thus diverted, and the front ranks of the enemy began to retreat, the negroes of our caravan, who had been placed in reserve immediately behind the soldiers, started off at full speed in pursuit of the fugitives, and their lances made far greater havoc than all the bullets of the Nubians. Before leaving Munza’s residence our bearers had all been provided with new weapons, and thus our little negro band was able to hold its own against greatly preponderating numbers of the enemy, who, I should imagine, were at least 10,000 strong.
The weight and diversity of the weapons of the A-Banga, added to the inconvenience of their costume, necessarily prevented them from making a rapid flight; they were consequently obliged to keep throwing off one impediment after another until the ground was strewn with shields, lances, clothes, and sometimes with their false chignons, ornaments and all. When the negroes returned to camp, bringing in their spoil and swinging the chignons on the points of their lances, they were greeted alike with the glad shout of triumph and the loud ring of laughter.