I gave orders to Raouf Bey to divide the troops in four stockades, which formed a sort of quadrilateral. This officer suggested that the men might all be massacred by a Bari night-attack if thus divided, and he proposed to inclose the whole force of 450 men within one zareeba, like sheep or cattle! In spite of our successes, the officers had a wholesome dread of the Baris, that relieved me from all apprehensions of their erring by an excess of rashness.
I divided the soldiers of the line in three zareebas, while I occupied the fourth with Lieutenant Baker and twenty men of the "Forty Thieves."
Every day was now passed in collecting corn, but the soldiers as usual worked badly. In the mean time the natives worked most energetically during the night, and carried off ten times the amount gathered by the troops. There was so bad a feeling among the officers, that it was easy to perceive they were predetermined to neglect this opportunity of filling our granaries.
The Baris were excellent diplomatists, and, seeing that we were too powerful to resist by open force, they sent women to treat for peace. This was simply a manoeuvre to gain time, as during the truce they could carry off the corn by day as well as night. I always leant towards peace, although the war had been wantonly forced upon me; thus we soon established friendly relations with an old sheik named Jarda, about two miles from the Belinian mountain. This old fellow had an exceedingly clever sister who would have made a good foreign minister. She explained just as much of the Belinian politics as would suit her purpose, and very properly declared that the women were all in favour of the government, and they would use their influence with the men, some of whom she asserted had very "hard heads."
Old Jarda, who was about eighty and had sufficient worldly experience to appreciate the value of a good counsellor, left the diplomatic arrangements to his sister, who became extremely active, and ran about the country to collect the principal headmen.
We had many palavers, which as usual ended in nothing but assurances of goodwill, and an explanation that the attacks on Gondokoro were made by certain districts, but that Jarda's people were not responsible. In the mean time thousands of women and children were engaged in carrying off the corn. The country seemed alive with baskets, as these useful articles were seen gliding about in all directions on the heads of natives that were invisible in the high grass.
I returned to Gondokoro for reinforcements, and I collected 200 armed sailors. With this additional force my wife also accompanied me to our camp at Belinian. We had now 650 men to collect the corn. I noticed an extraordinary diminution in the crop during my absence of only two days, but not a corresponding increase in the store collected by the troops left under the command of Raouf Bey.
I had occupied the valley by a line of three stockaded positions, at intervals of about a mile and a half; thus a very large area of corn was commanded, and if the patrols had done their duty, it would have been impossible for the natives to have carried it off.
Nothing had been heard of the missing major, Achmet Rafik; he had not returned to Gondokoro as I had hoped. I now discovered, through the native women, that he had been killed by the Baris on the same day that we had arrived at Belinian. It appeared that the unfortunate officer had steered his course for the Belinian mountain peak, in the hope of overtaking the troops. This route through the forest led him to the extreme end of the valley at the foot of the mountain, quite in the wrong direction. Having arrived at the nearly dry bed of the Belinian river, he sat beneath a tree to rest. The natives quickly observed him, and stalked him as though he had been a wild animal.
It appeared that, when attacked, he had wounded one native in the head with his "little gun," as the Baris termed his revolver; and this man was still alive with the bullet in his skull, which the women declared was swollen as large as a pumpkin.