I gave the order to march forward at once.
My horse, Jamoos, now the only survivor of all those that I brought from Cairo, was in good condition, but he suffered from a woeful sore back, occasioned by the heavy load that he had carried from Masindi. My wife was therefore obliged to walk, as the mud was too deep for the solitary donkey, who was weak and ill.
For more than a mile and a half we had to wade through flooded marshes nearly hip deep; the heavy rains had made the country boggy and unpleasant.
We had one sheep for the journey of seventy-nine miles, but this was missing upon the second day's march, and we subsequently discovered that it had been stolen and eaten by our guide and the carriers supplied by Rionga. We were thus reduced to dried fish in the place of our lost mutton, for which we felt inclined to go into mourning.
Although we had been badly fed of late, and for twenty-three days had been without solid animal food (since the march from Masindi), we were nevertheless in excellent health; and always hungry.
We marched well through the uninhabited wilderness of forest, high grass, and swamps, and arrived at the village of Sharga, ten miles from Fatiko, on August 1st, 1872.
The people had collected in considerable numbers to receive us, and we were presented with a fat ox for the troops, thirteen large jars of merissa, and a very plump sheep for ourselves.
The soldiers were delighted, poor fellows; and we likewise looked forward with no small pleasure to a good stew.
Numerous sheiks had collected to receive us, and a formal complaint and protest was made against Abou Saood and his people.
An attack had been planned by the slavers, and Abdullah and his small detachment of 100 men would be overpowered. They were already disheartened, as they believed that we were dead, and they had been daily taunted with this fact by the brigands, who asked them, "what they were going to do now that the Pacha was killed."