The effect of this defeat is indescribable. It was impossible to sleep, from the shrieks of the women whose husbands had fallen. All night they howled their lamentations, and sometimes might be heard the groans of the wounded who had contrived to crawl through the grass unperceived by the enemy. Fugitives were continually coming in throughout the night, but none of my men who were reported to be dead, were ever heard of again.
The 7th was a day of distrust, sorrow, and retreat; the Arabs accused one another for urging war without expending all peaceful means first. There were stormy councils of war held, wherein were some who proposed to return at once to Unyanyembe, and keep within their own houses; and Khamis bin Abdullah raved, like an insulted monarch, against the abject cowardice of his compatriots. These stormy meetings and propositions to retreat were soon known throughout the camp, and assisted more than anything else to demoralize completely the combined forces of Wanyamwezi and slaves. I sent Bombay to Sayd bin Salim to advise him not to think of retreat, as it would only be inviting Mirambo to carry the war to Unyanyembe.
After, despatching Bombay with this message, I fell asleep, but about 1.30 P.M. I was awakened by Selim saying, "Master, get up, they are all running away, and Khamis bin Abdullah is himself going."
With the aid of Selim I dressed myself, and staggered towards the door. My first view was of Thani bin Abdullah being dragged away, who, when he caught sight of me, shouted out "Bana—quick—Mirambo is coming." He was then turning to run, and putting on his jacket, with his eyes almost starting out of their sockets with terror. Khamis bin Abdullah was also about departing, he being the last Arab to leave. Two of my men were following him; these Selim was ordered to force back with a revolver. Shaw was saddling his donkey with my own saddle, preparatory to giving me the slip, and leaving me in the lurch to the tender mercies of Mirambo. There were only Bombay, Mabruki Speke, Chanda who was coolly eating his dinner, Mabruk Unyauyembe, Mtamani, Juma, and Sarmean—-only seven out of fifty. All the others had deserted, and were by this time far away, except Uledi (Manwa Sera) and Zaidi, whom Selim brought back at the point of a loaded revolver. Selim was then told to saddle my donkey, and Bombay to assist Shaw to saddle his own. In a few moments we were on the road, the men ever looking back for the coming enemy; they belabored the donkeys to some purpose, for they went at a hard trot, which caused me intense pain. I would gladly have lain down to die, but life was sweet, and I had not yet given up all hope of being able to preserve it to the full and final accomplishment of my mission. My mind was actively at work planning and contriving during the long lonely hours of night, which we employed to reach Mfuto, whither I found the Arabs had retreated. In the night Shaw tumbled off his donkey, and would not rise, though implored to do so. As I did not despair myself, so I did not intend that Shaw should despair. He was lifted on his animal, and a man was placed on each side of him to assist him; thus we rode through the darkness. At midnight we reached Mfuto safely, and were at once admitted into the village, from which we had issued so valiantly, but to which we were now returned so ignominiously.
I found all my men had arrived here before dark. Ulimengo, the bold guide who had exulted in his weapons and in our numbers, and was so sanguine of victory, had performed the eleven hours' march in six hours; sturdy Chowpereh, whom I regarded as the faithfullest of my people, had arrived only half an hour later than Ulimengo; and frisky Khamisi, the dandy—the orator—the rampant demagogue—yes—he had come third; and Speke's "Faithfuls" had proved as cowardly as any poor "nigger" of them all. Only Selim was faithful.
I asked Selim, "Why did you not also run away, and leave your master to die?"
"Oh, sir," said the Arab boy, naively, "I was afraid you would whip me."
CHAPTER IX. — MY LIFE AND TROUBLES IN UNYANYEMBE-(continued).
It never occurred to the Arab magnates that I had cause of complaint against them, or that I had a right to feel aggrieved at their conduct, for the base desertion of an ally, who had, as a duty to friendship, taken up arms for their sake. Their "salaams" the next morning after the retreat, were given as if nothing had transpired to mar the good feeling that had existed between us.