In Desert and Wilderness

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

In the meantime the sun set and the jungle was suddenly plunged in darkness.

The little girl chattered yet for half an hour, after which she fell asleep and Stas meditated further about the dervishes and quinine. His distressed but resourceful mind began to labor and form plans, each one bolder and more audacious than the other. First he began to ponder over whether that smoke in the southern direction necessarily came from Smain's camp. It might indeed be dervishes, but it also might be Arabs from the ocean coast, who made great expeditions into the interior for ivory and slaves. These had nothing in common with the dervishes who injured their trade. The smoke might also be from a camp of Abyssinians or from some negro village at the foot-hills which the slave hunters had not yet reached. Would it not be proper for him to satisfy himself upon this point?

The Arabs from Zanzibar, from the vicinity of Bagamoyo, from Witu and from Mombasa, and in general from the territory bordering on the ocean, were people who continuously came in contact with white men; so who knows whether for a great reward they would not conduct them to the nearest port? Stas knew perfectly well that he could promise such a reward and that they would believe his promise. There occurred to him another idea which touched him to the depth. In Khartûm he saw that many of the dervishes, particularly those from Nubia, suffered fever almost as badly as the white people and that they cured themselves with quinine which they stole from the Europeans, and if it were hidden by renegade Greeks or Copts they purchased it for its weight in gold. So it might be expected that the Arabs from the coast would be certain to have it.

"I shall go," Stas said to himself, "I shall go, for Nell."

And pondering more and more strongly upon the situation he, in the end, came to the conclusion that even if that was Smain's division, it was incumbent for him to go. He recollected that on account of the complete rupture of relations between Egypt and the Sudân, Smain in all probability knew nothing about their abduction from Fayûm.

Fatma could not have had an understanding with him; therefore that abduction was her individual scheme, executed with the aid of Chamis, son of Chadigi, together with Idris, Gebhr, and the two Bedouins. Now these men did not concern Smain for the simple reason that among them he knew only Chamis, and the others he never saw in his life. He was concerned only about his own children and Fatma. But he might long for them now, and might be glad to return to them, particularly if in the service of the Mahdi he apparently did not meet with great fortune, since instead of commanding powerful troops or governing some vast region he was compelled to catch slaves the Lord knew where—far beyond Fashoda. "I will say to him," Stas thought, "that if you will lead us to any seaport on the Indian Ocean and return with us to Egypt, the government will pardon all your offenses; you will rejoin Fatma and the children, and besides, Mr. Rawlinson will make you rich; if not you will never again see your children and Fatma in your life."

And he was certain that Smain would consider well before he rejected such an arrangement.

Of course this was not altogether safe; it might even prove disastrous, but it might become a plank of rescue from that African whirlpool. Stas in the end began to wonder why the possibility of meeting with Smain should have frightened him at first and, as he was anxious for quick relief for Nell, he determined to go, even that night.

It was easier, however, to say than to do it; it is one thing to sit at night in the jungle near a good fire behind a thorny zareba, and another to set forth amid darkness, in high grass, in which at such a time the lion, panther, and leopard, not to speak of hyenas and jackals, are seeking their prey. The boy, however, recollected the words of the young negro at the time when he went during the night to search for Saba and, having returned, said to him, "Kali feared but Kali went." And he repeated to himself, "I shall fear, but I will go."

He waited, however, until the moon rose, as the night was extraordinarily dark, and only when the jungle was silvered by her luster did he call Kali and say: