The Albert N'Yanza, Great Basin of the Nile, And Explorations of the Nile Sources

by Sir Samuel White Baker

My still worked beautifully, and produced four or five bottles of good spirit daily;—this I stored in large bottle gourds, containing about four gallons each. My men were excessively fond of attending to the distillery, especially Richarn, who took a deep interest in the operation, but who was frequently found dead asleep on his back; the fire out; and the still at a standstill. Of course he could not be suspected of having tried the produce of his manufactory! I found an extraordinary change in my health from the time that I commenced drinking the potato whisky. Every day I drank hot toddy. I became strong, and from that time to the present day my fever left me, occurring only once or twice during the first six months, and then quitting me entirely. Not having tasted either wine or spirits for nearly two years, the sudden change from total abstinence to a moderate allowance of stimulant produced a marvellous effect. Ibrahim and some of his men established stills; several became intoxicated, which so delighted M'Gambi, who happened to be present, that he begged a bottle of spirit from Ibrahim as a sample for Kamrasi. It appears that the king got drunk so quickly upon the potent spirit, that he had an especial desire to repeat the dose—he called it the maroua (cider) of our country, and pronounced it so far superior to his own that he determined to establish a factory. When I explained to him that it was the produce of sweet potatoes, he expressed his great regret that he had never sufficiently appreciated their value, and he expressed a determination to cultivate whole districts. Ibrahim was requested to leave one of his men who understood the management of a still, to establish and undertake the direction of "King Kamrasi's Central African Unyoro Potato-Whisky Company, unlimited."

Ibrahim had brought a variety of presents for Kamrasi: fifty pounds of beads, a revolver pistol, cotton cloths, blue glass tumblers, looking-glasses, &c. These donations, added to the pleasure afforded by the defeat of his enemies, put his majesty into excellent humour, sad he frequently came to visit us. On one occasion I gave him the portraits of Speke and Grant: the latter he recognised immediately; he could not understand the pictures in Punch, declaring that he (Punch) was not an Englishman, as he neither resembled me nor Speke; but he was exceedingly pleased with the Paris fashions in the Illustrated London News, which we cut out with a pair of scissors, and gave him as specimens of English ladies in full dress.

The war being concluded by the total discomfiture of his enemies, Kamrasi was determined to destroy all those inhabitants of Foweera who had in any way connived as the attack of the M'was. Daily executions took place in the summary manner already described, the victims being captured, led before the king, and butchered in his presence without a trial.

Among others suspected as favourable to revolution was Kalloe, the chief of Foweera; next to Kamrasi and M'Gambi he was the principal man in the kingdom; he was much beloved by the entire population of Chopi and Foweera, and I had always found him most intelligent and friendly. One night, at about eight o'clock, Ibrahim came to my hut looking very mysterious, and after assuring himself that no one was present, he confided to me that he had received orders from Kamrasi to attack Kalloe's village before daybreak on the following morning, to surround his dwelling, and to shoot him as he attempted to escape; Ibrahim was further instructed to capture the women and children of the village as his perquisites. At the very moment that thus treacherous compact had been entered into with Ibrahim, Kamrasi had pretended to be upon the most friendly terms with Kalloe, who was then in his camp; but he did not lay violent hands upon him, as, many of the natives being in his favour, the consequences might have been disagreeable: thus he had secretly ordered his destruction. I at once desired Ibrahim at all hazards to renounce so horrible a design. Never did I feel so full of revolution as at that moment; my first impulse was to assist Kalloe to dethrone Kamrasi, and to usurp the kingdom. Ibrahim had an eye to business; he knew, that should he offend Kamrasi there would be an end to the ivory trade for the present. The country was so rich in ivory that it was a perfect bank upon which he could draw without limit, provided that he remained an ally of the king; but no trade could be carried on with the natives, all business being prohibited by Kamrasi, who himself monopolised the profits. In the event of war, not a tusk would be obtained, as the ivory in possession of the natives was never stored in their huts, but was concealed in the earth. The Turks were now mercenaries employed by the king to do any bloody work that he might require.

Ibrahim was in a dilemma. I offered to take the entire onus upon myself. That Kalloe should not be murdered I was determined; the old man had on several occasions been very obliging to me and to my people, and I resolved to save him at any risk. His son, perfectly unsuspicious of evil, was at that moment in our camp, having fraternized with some of my men. I sent for him immediately and explained the entire plot, concluding by telling him to run that instant at full speed to his father (about two miles distant), and to send away all the women and children from the village, but to bring Kalloe to my hut; that I would hoist the British flag, as I had done at Kisoona, and this should protect him from the bloodthirsty Kamrasi, who would not dare to seize him. Should he refuse to trust me, he must fly immediately, as the Turks would attack the village before daybreak. Away started the astonished son in the dark night at full speed along the well-known path, to give the warning.

I now arranged with Ibrahim that to avoid offending Kamrasi he should make a false attack upon the village at the time appointed; he would find it deserted, and there would be an end of the matter should Kalloe prefer flight to trusting in my protection, which I felt sure he would. Midnight arrived, and no signs of Kalloe had appeared; I went to sleep, satisfied that he was safe. Before daybreak eighty men of the Turks' party started upon their feigned expedition; in about two hours they returned, having found the village deserted;—the bird had flown. I was delighted at the success of this ruse, but I should have been more satisfied had Kalloe placed himself in my hands: this I had felt sure he would decline, as the character of the natives is generally so false and mistrustful that he would suspect a snare.

At about noon we heard yells; drums were beating and horns blowing in all directions. For the moment I thought that Kalloe had raised the country against Kamrasi, as I observed many hundred men dressed for war, scouring the beautiful open park, like hounds upon a scent. The Turks beat their drum and called their men under arms beneath the ensign planted outside the village,—not knowing the intention of the unusual gathering. It shortly transpired that Kamrasi had heard of the escape of Kalloe, and, enraged at the loss of his prey, he had immediately started about a thousand men in pursuit.

In the evening I heard that he had been captured. I sent to Kamrasi directly, to beg him to postpone his execution, as I wished to speak with him on the following morning.

At sunrise I started, and found the king sitting in his but, while Kalloe was lying under a plantain tree perfectly resigned, with his leg in the Kamrasi shoe—a block of wood of about four feet long and ten inches thick (the rough trunk of a tree); his left foot had been thrust through a small hole in the log, while a peg driven through at right angles just above the instep effectually secured the prisoner. This was a favourite punishment of the king; the prisoner might thus languish until released by death; it was impossible to sit up, and difficult to lie down, the log having to be adjusted by an attendant according to the movement of the body. I told Kamrasi that as I had saved him from the attack of the Turks at Kisoona he must grant me a favour, and spare Kalloe's life: this request, to my astonishment, he at once granted, [A few days afterwards he shot Kalloe with his own hands.] and added, that he should only keep him in the "shoe" for a few days, until his people should bring him a hundred cows as a fine, in which case he should release him. I had no faith in his promise, as I had before heard that it was his practice to put the shoe upon any rich man in order to extract a fine, upon the payment of which the unfortunate prisoner was on some occasions killed instead of liberated. However, I had done all in my power; and had Kalloe been a man of determination, he could have saved himself by trusting implicitly to me. As I returned to the camp, I could not help reflecting on the ingratitude I had experienced among all the natives; on many occasions I had exerted myself to benefit others in whom I had no personal interest, but in no single instance had I ever received even a look of gratitude.

Two days after this occurrence I ordered the boy Saat to go as usual in search of supplies to the neighbouring villages; but as he was starting, Ibrahim advised him to wait a little, as something was wrong, and it would be dangerous to go alone. A few minutes later, I heard three shots fired in rapid succession at about three-quarters of a mile distant. The Turks and my men immediately thronged outside the village, which position being on a hill, we had a panoramic view of the surrounding country.