On the following morning we started, the route as before being parallel to the river, and so close that the roar of the rapids was extremely loud. The river flowed in a deep ravine upon our left. We continued for a day's march along the Somerset, crossing many ravines and torrents, until we turned suddenly down to the left, and arriving at the bank we were to be transported to an island called Patooan, that was the residence of a chief. It was about an hour after sunset, and, being dark, my riding ox, which was being driven as too weak to carry me, fell into an elephant pitfall. After much hallooing, a canoe was brought from the island, which was not more than fifty yards from the mainland, and we were ferried across. We were both very ill with a sudden attack of fever; and my wife, not being able to stand, was, on arrival at the island, carried on a litter I knew not whither, escorted by some of my men, while I lay down on the wet ground quite exhausted with the annihilating disease. At length the rest of my men crossed over, and those who had carried my wife to the village returning with firebrands, I managed to creep after them with the aid of a long stick, upon which I rested with both hands. After a walk through a forest of high trees for about a quarter of a mile, I arrived at a village where I was shown a wretched hut, the stars being visible through the roof. In this my wife lay dreadfully ill upon her angarep, and I fell down upon some straw. About an hour later a violent thunderstorm broke over us, and our hut was perfectly flooded. Being far too ill and helpless to move from our positions, we remained dripping wet and shivering with fever until the morning. Our servants and people had, like all native, made themselves much more comfortable than their employers; nor did they attempt to interfere with our misery in any way until summoned to appear at sunrise.
The island of Patooan was about half a mile long by 150 yards wide, and was one of the numerous masses of rocks that choke the river between Karuma Falls and the great Murchison cataract. My headman now informed me that war was raging between Kamrasi and his rivals, Fowooka and Rionga, and it would be impossible to proceed along the bank of the river to Karuma. My exploration was finished, however, as it was by no means necessary to continue the route from Patooan to Karuma.
CHAPTER XXII.
Prisoners on the island—Left to starve—Months of helplessness—We rejoin the Turks—The real Kamrasi—In the presence of royalty.
We were prisoners on the island of Patooan as we could not procure porters at any price to remove our effects. We had lost all our riding oxen within a few days. They had succumbed to the flies, and the only animal alive was already half dead; this was the little bull that had always carried the boy Saat. It was the 8th of April, and within a few days the boats upon which we depended for our return to civilization would assuredly quit Gondokoro. I offered the natives all the beads that I had (about 50 lbs.) and the whole of my baggage, if they would carry us to Shooa directly from this spot. We were in perfect despair, as we were both completely worn out with fever and fatigue, and certain death seemed to stare us in the face should we remain in this unhealthy spot. Worse than death was the idea of losing the boats and becoming prisoners for another year in this dreadful land, which must inevitably happen should we not hurry directly to Gondokoro without delay. The natives with their usual cunning at length offered to convey us to Shooa, provided that I paid them the beads in advance. The boats were prepared to ferry us across the river; but I fortunately discovered through the woman Bacheeta their treacherous intention of placing us on the uninhabited wilderness on the north side, and leaving us to die of hunger. They had conspired together to land us, but to return immediately with the boats after having thus got rid of the incubus of their guests.
We were in a great dilemma. Had we been in good health, I would have forsaken everything but the guns and ammunition, and have marched directly to Gondokoro on foot; but this was utterly impossible. Neither my wife nor I could walk a quarter of a mile without fainting. There was no guide, and the country was now overgrown with impenetrable grass and tangled vegetation eight feet high. We were in the midst of the rainy season—not a day passed without a few hours of deluge. Altogether it was a most heart-breaking position. Added to the distress of mind at being thus thwarted, there was also a great scarcity of provision. Many of my men were weak, the whole party having suffered much from fever; in fact, we were completely helpless.
Our guide, Rabonga, who had accompanied us from M'rooli, had absconded, and we were left to shift for ourselves. I was determined not to remain on the island, as I suspected that the boats might be taken away, and that we should be kept prisoners; I therefore ordered my men to take the canoes, and to ferry us to the main land, from whence we had come. The headman, upon hearing this order, offered to carry us to a village, and then to await orders from Kamrasi as to whether we were to be forwarded to Shooa or not. The district in which the island of Patooan was situated was called Shooa Moru, although having no connection with the Shooa in the Madi country to which we were bound.
We were ferried across to the main shore, and my wife and I, in our respective angareps, were carried by the natives for about three miles. Arriving at a deserted village, half of which was in ashes, having been burned and plundered by the enemy, we were deposited on the ground in front of an old hut in the pouring rain, and were informed that we should remain there that night, but that on the following morning we should proceed to our destination.
Not trusting the natives, I ordered my men to disarm them, and to retain their spears and shields as security for their appearance on the following day. This effected, we were carried into a filthy hut about six inches deep in mud, as the roof was much out of repair, and the heavy rain had flooded it daily for some weeks. I had a canal cut through the muddy floor, and in misery and low spirits we took possession.