At a short distance to the SW. are situated the ruins of a town nearly as large as Boolibany, and of which it at one time formed a part: but was destroyed by the Kartan army in one of their attacks on Almamy—which must have been sanguinary, as the ground for a considerable distance round it is thickly strewed with the now whitened bones of the slain, whose bodies were allowed to putrify on the spot where they fell, or be devoured by the birds and beasts of prey.
The mother of the boy given to us by Almamy, came to our huts to see her son, whom we had by this time so convinced of his real situation, that he implored us on his knees and with tears in his eyes to work the same change in his unfortunate mother’s situation, who together with his brother, an infant, were in the most deplorable state of slavery, in the possession of Moosa Yeona Malick. The poor woman herself was too much pleased with the respectable appearance of her son, and with the account he gave her of the comparative happiness of his present situation, to prevent a gleam of satisfaction from making itself evident, through the otherwise truly miserable and desponding evidence of her feelings but too strongly depicted in her face and actions; the former being bathed in tears, and the latter more becoming of a person imploring assistance or protection from the divine, than a human being.
It is needless to say we promised her every exertion in her favour, and fulfilled the promise, but alas! without effect:—the answer we got from her inhuman master to an offer of three times the value of a prime slave, or indeed any price he might demand, was “that it was much fitter for us to make him a present of the son, who would thereby be enabled to enjoy the society of his mother and brother.”
The poor woman was a constant visitor at our huts, where she every day got one good meal, but it would have been useless to give her any thing else, as her master would not have left it (let it be of never so little value) with her.
Since our arrival at Boolibany we had been as badly supplied with provisions as at Goodeerie. Almamy made us a present of a bullock, but we found it impossible to purchase any, and as to rice or corn it was extremely scarce and dear. So small was the quantity of milk purchased that the officers were stinted to a few spoonfulls each, which, with as limited a quantity of rice, meal, or meat, constituted our daily bill of fare.
To add to the unpleasantness of our situation nearly all the European soldiers were affected with fever or dysentery, two of the officers, Messrs. Nelson and Pilkington, were likewise ill, and we found it impossible to obtain from Almamy the fulfilment of his promises. At one time he would say he was preparing for us some provisions; at another, that he was only waiting the return of a messenger he had sent to ascertain the state of the path by which we were to travel, and with many such frivolous excuses he put us off from day to day until the 23rd of June, when he appointed a guide, and told us we might depart when we pleased. Preparations were made for moving on the following morning, and we had determined that not a moment should be lost in getting out of Almamy’s power. We were however again to suffer disappointment and delay, for the same night at a late hour Almamy sent his son Saada, to let us know that in consequence of his having received information of the destruction of several of the towns of Kasson by the Kartans, he could not allow us to proceed until he had sent a messenger to ascertain its truth. I endeavoured to shew Saada that I thought better of the report, and said that I would, if Almamy allowed me, go on even without a guide; but it would not do: he said his father (who now considered us his friends and strangers) dare not permit us to run into danger when he could prevent it. This was a very plausible excuse no doubt, but we were aware that the whole was a plan to keep us in his country as long as he could. We nevertheless told Saada that we would wait a day or two longer in order to give his father’s messenger time to return.
The men who had been left at Goodeerie to take care of Pickard returned on the 23rd, having committed his body to the earth at that place on the 21st, the day of his death.
On the 25th, not hearing any thing of the messenger’s return or any more reports about the circumstance, I and all the officers waited on Almamy, to endeavour, if possible, to obtain leave to proceed. We found him seated in a large straw hut, in one of the inner courts of his palace, surrounded by some of his ministers and chiefs. He evaded giving a direct answer to our request, by relating some of his youthful achievements in a very jocular strain, until the call to prayers obliged us to leave his royal presence, and return as we went, to submit to delay and disappointment for another day, which, however, only made things appear as less likely to be arranged to our satisfaction than they had hitherto been. He asked those about him many questions respecting the path through Kasson to Foolidoo, which he seemed to be well acquainted with, and made much objection when we had told him the disappointment we experienced in his conduct to us, and the seeming disinclination on his part to forward our views, notwithstanding his promise to do so in consequence of the very large and handsome presents we had given him and his people. His son Saada told us “there was no use in much words, but that, if we would satisfy Almamy, he should satisfy us,” which was merely hinting, if we would give Almamy presents until he should say he had enough, we should be then allowed to proceed. We did not pretend to understand his meaning, and finding that nothing was to be obtained from them, we left the place, in order to consult with the officers, and decide on the step to be taken.
After taking into consideration the then advanced state of the season, the illness of almost the whole of the Europeans, and the reduced state of our means of subsistence, in consequence of the very great expenditure incurred to replace our animals (all those we had on leaving Kayaye having died), and the exorbitant presents to Almamy and his chiefs, ministers, &c., we came to the determination of remaining in Bondoo until after the rains, and sending forward an officer to Sego, to apprize the King of our being stopped by Almamy, and to ascertain beyond a doubt his intentions towards our intended entrance into his country. A train of incidents, as tedious to relate as uninteresting to peruse, occurred between our making known to Almamy this our intention, and our establishing ourselves at Samba Contaye[12], which we were enabled to do, after much toil and trouble, by the 17th of July.
Our position was on an elevated plain, lying about half a quarter of a mile west of the village, between us and which ran a copious stream of water, occasionally swollen to a considerable size by the rains. Around a clear spot, of about two acres, we erected several huts. We soon found, however, they were neither sufficiently solid to withstand the violence of the tornados, nor well enough thatched to keep out the rain, in consequence of which the men were continually getting wet, and falling sick. Mr. Burton and Mr. Nelson, and nearly all the Europeans, were labouring under fever and dysentery. On the 18th, the former was reduced to the very last stage, and Mr. Pilkington, and three men, were so ill when we left Boolibany, that they could not be moved. Had we been able to continue our journey to the east, those officers and men must have been left behind; and to this, unpleasant as it might have been to our feelings, we must in that case have submitted. Mr. Burton’s sufferings, however, were of short duration; he died on the 19th, having been only a few days ill. This sudden and melancholy event appeared to cast a gloom over all, and, when his remains were committed to their last abode, every European present shewed evident symptoms of apprehension that such might be his own fate in a few days.