The important experience of the day, now ended, and the impressions of
that night, had so completely exhausted Stasch and Nell that when at
last they were overcome by sleep they both slept so soundly that the
girl only made her appearance outside the tent about mid-day; but Stasch
arose somewhat earlier from the rug that was stretched in front of the
fire, and while waiting for his little companion, he ordered Kali to
prepare breakfast, which, on account of the lateness of the hour, was to
serve at the same time for dinner.
The bright daylight drove away the apparitions of the night, and both
awoke not only rested in body, but also refreshed in mind. Nell looked
better and felt stronger, and as both wished to leave the place where
the Sudanese who had been shot remained, they mounted their horses
immediately after their meal and rode away.
Generally at this time of day all travelers in Africa take their mid-day
rest, and even the caravans of negroes take shelter under the shade of
large trees; these are, you know, the so-called “white hours”—hours of
heat and silence—during which the sun shines unmercifully, looking down
from the sky as though seeking for some one to kill. Every animal crawls
back into the bushes, the song of the bird ceases, the humming of the
insect stops, all nature sinks into utter stillness and hides, as though
protecting itself from a cruel master. But they rode along the gorge,
one of the walls of which threw a dark shadow, so they could go forward
without exposing themselves to the heat. Stasch did not want to leave
the gorge for the simple reason that if on top they could be seen from
afar by Smain’s division, and also because in the hollows of the rocks
it would be easier for them to find water, which trickled through the
openings in the ground or dissolved into mist under the influence of the
rays of the sun. The road always led imperceptibly up hill. On the walls
of the cliffs could be seen deposits of sulphur from time to time; in
consequence of which the water in the crevices smelt of it, and this
reminded the two children very disagreeably of Omdurman and the
Mahdists, who rubbed their heads with a mixture of sulphur and grease.
In other places came the musky odor of civet-cats, and cascades of
lianas hung from high promontories down to the bed of the gorge,
spreading a sickening smell of vanilla.
The little travelers were glad to halt in the shadow of these
embroidered curtains of purple flowers, whose leaves served as food for
the horses. There were no animals to be seen, except from time to time
monkeys squatted on the edges of the rocks, like silhouettes against the
sky—resembling fantastic African idols or the figures that adorn the
corners of temples in India. These overgrown men with manes showed Saba
their teeth, screwed up their mouths to show their astonishment and
anger, and at the same time hopped, blinked their eyes, and scratched
their backs. But Saba, being quite accustomed to seeing them, paid
little attention to their threats.
They now made rapid progress. Joy over their regained freedom drove from
Stasch’s breast the nightmare that had frightened him during the night.
Now he was only disturbed by the thought as to what course he should
take and how he could guide Nell and himself out of this place, in which
a new imprisonment by the Dervishes threatened them, what course they
could plan to aid them during the long journey through the desert to
keep them from perishing of hunger and thirst, and lastly, in what
direction they should direct their steps. Stasch remembered that, when
with Hatim, he heard that the distance from Fashoda to the frontier of
Abyssinia was not more than five days’ journey as the bird flies, and he
reckoned that this would be about one hundred English miles. But it was
now two weeks since they left Fashoda; it was therefore certain that
they had not taken the shortest way, but that the search after Smain had
led them much farther south. He remembered that on the sixth day of the
journey they passed a river which was not the Nile, and that then,
before the ground had become hilly, they had ridden past great swamps.
In the school at Port Said the geography of Africa was very thoroughly
and carefully taught, and Stasch remembered that in describing Ballors
mention was made of an almost unknown stream that ran through swampy
land—the Soba River—and flowed into the Nile. He was not quite sure
whether or not they had passed by this particular stream, but at any
rate he thought they had. He also remembered that when Smain wanted to
capture slaves he did not seek them in the eastern extremity of Fashoda,
as the people of that district had been destroyed by the Dervishes and
the smallpox; but he preferred the road toward the south, in districts
which had not been discovered by previous expeditions. Therefore Stasch
concluded that they were probably following in Smain’s tracks. This
thought at first frightened him, and he began to consider whether they
ought not to desert the gorge, which it was plain continued toward the
south, and march straight toward the east.
But after some consideration he gave up the idea; on the contrary,
thought he, the safest course would be to follow the footsteps of
Smain’s company at a distance of two or three days behind them, for it
was quite uncertain whether Smain with his merchandise of human beings
would return by the same route instead of taking the straight course
toward the Nile. Stasch also knew that Abyssinia could be reached only
from the south, where this country borders the desert, and not by the
eastern frontier, which was strictly guarded by Dervishes. Consequently
he decided to advance as far as possible toward the south.
One might very likely come across negroes there, either those who had
settled there or those who had taken refuge there from the banks of the
White Nile. But if he had to choose between the two evils, Stasch would
rather deal with the blacks than with the Mahdists; besides he also
reckoned that, in case they should strike fugitives or settlers, Kali
and Mea could be of assistance to him. A mere glance at the negress
showed that she belonged to the tribe of Dinka or Schilluk, for she had
exceptionally long, thin legs and large feet, which are typical of both
these tribes, which live on the banks of the Nile and wade through its
bed like storks and cranes. Kali, on the contrary, although he had
become as thin as a skeleton when in Gebhr’s hands, now presented quite
a different aspect. He was small and heavily built, had strong arms,
and, in comparison with Mea, proportionately short legs and small feet.
As Kali did not understand a word of Arabian, and only spoke the
Ki-swahili language very badly (a knowledge of which will make one
understood nearly everywhere throughout Africa, and which Stasch had
practically learned from the Zanzibar negroes working on the canal), it
was evident that he came from some remote district.
Stasch therefore decided to ask him where he did come from.
“Kali, what is the name of your nation?” he inquired.
“Wa-hima,” the young negro answered.
“Is it a great nation?”
“A very great one, which wages war with the wicked Samburu, and captures
their cattle.”
“And where is your village?”
“Far away, far away—Kali does not know where it is.”
“In a land like this?”
“No. In that country there is a great body of water and also mountains.”
“What is the name of this sheet of water?”
“We call it ‘The Great Water.’ ”
Stasch thought that perhaps the boy had come from the Albert Nyanza
district, which until the present time was in Emin Pasha’s hands, and to
make sure of this he inquired further.
“Doesn’t a white chief live there who has black smoking ships and
soldiers?”
“No; the old people tell us that they have seen white people,” and with
this Kali raised his fingers, counting one, two, three. “Kali has never
seen them, because he was not born there, but Kali’s father received
them and gave them many cows.”
“What is your father?”
“King of the Wa-hima.”
Stasch was not a little flattered at the thought that he had a prince
for his servant.
“Would you like to see your father?”
“Kali wants to see his mother.”
“And what would you do if we met Wa-hima people? And what would they
do?”
“The Wa-hima would fall on their faces before Kali.”
“Then conduct us to them and you can stay with them and reign as your
father’s heir, and we will ride on toward the sea.”
“Kali will not meet them and will not stay there, for Kali loves the
‘Great Man’ and the ‘Daughter of the Moon.’ ”
Stasch turned round cheerfully to his companion and said:
“Nell, you have become a Daughter of the Moon.”
But as he looked at her he suddenly became sad, for it struck him that
the little maid, who had suffered greatly from the fatigue of the
journey, with her pale, transparent face in reality looked more like an
inhabitant of the moon than a dweller on this earth.
The young negro also remained silent for a moment, then he continued:
“Kali loves Bwana Kubwa, for Bwana Kubwa did not kill Kali—only Gebhr
killed him—he gave Kali plenty to eat.”
And he stroked his chest and stomach and repeated with visible delight:
“Plenty of meat, plenty of meat.”
Stasch would have liked to find out how the boy had been imprisoned by
the Dervishes, but it turned out that on a certain night after he had
been captured in one of the trenches dug to entrap zebras, he had
already been through so many hands that one could not decide from his
answer through what countries and by what route he had at last reached
Fashoda. Stasch was impressed by what he said about the “Great Water,”
for if he had come from the district of Albert Nyanza, Albert Edward
Nyanza, or even from the Victoria Nyanza, round which the kingdoms of
Unyoro and Uganda lie, he would undoubtedly have heard something of Emin
Pasha, his soldiers, and steamers, which raised consternation and fear
in the minds of the negroes. The Tanganyika was too far distant, and so
the only supposition that remained was that Kali’s race must have its
home somewhere in the vicinity of the waters of Rudolf and Stefanie.
These lands were also fairly remote, but the expedition was at least
half way on its journey, so while the lands could not be said to be very
near Fashoda, still they were near the place where the travelers now
were—and it was quite possible that they might meet the Wa-hima.
After a ride of many hours the sun began to set, and the heat had abated
considerably. They reached a wide plain, where there was water and where
wild figs grew, so they made a halt to give the horses a rest and to
refresh themselves with food. As the walls of the cliffs were lower at
this point, Stasch ordered Kali to climb up and look around to see if
there was any smoke.
Kali obeyed, and was soon on the edge of the cliffs. He carefully
noticed everything on all sides and then slid down on a thick liana, and
said that there was no smoke, but “Nyama.” It was easy to guess that he
did not mean birds, but some kind of big game, for he pointed to
Stasch’s rifle and then put his finger to his head as a sign that they
were horned animals.
Then Stasch climbed the height, and carefully raising his head over the
edge of the cliff, began to look around.
Nothing interrupted the view, for the high jungle had been destroyed by
fire, and the new one, shooting forth from the charred earth, was
scarcely a foot high. All around as far as eye could reach were
scattered tall trees still growing, whose trunks had been scorched by
the flames. In the shade of one of these trees a herd of antelope was
grazing, their bodies resembling horses and their heads buffaloes. The
sunlight peering through the branches made bright spots of light on
their brown backs.
There were nine of them, and they were not more than a hundred feet
away. As the wind was blowing from the animals toward the ravine, they
continued feeding quietly, fearing no danger. Stasch, who was desirous
of providing meat for the caravan, fired upon the nearest animal, which
fell as though struck by lightning. The others fled, and with them a
huge buffalo, which they had not seen before, because it had been hidden
by a large stone. The boy’s pride as a huntsman was aroused, and waiting
for the animal to turn round, he sent a bullet through it. The buffalo
swayed heavily as soon as it was hit, and ran off; and before Stasch was
able to change his cartridges it had disappeared behind a hillock.
Before the smoke had cleared away Kali ran to the antelope and ripped it
open with Gebhr’s knife. Stasch went up to him to get a nearer view of
the animal, and was much surprised when the young negro took the liver
of the antelope, which was still warm, in his blood-stained hands and
presented it to him.
“Why do you give it to me?” said he.
“Msuri! Msuri! Bwana Kubwa, eat now.”
“Eat it yourself,” answered Stasch, disgusted at the suggestion.
Kali did not wait to be told twice. He at once began to tear the liver
to pieces with his teeth and greedily swallow the raw bits. But seeing
that Stasch looked at him with disgust, he did not stop between
mouthfuls, but continually repeated, “Msuri! Msuri!”
After Kali had eaten more than half the liver, he began skinning the
antelope, which he did very quickly and so dexterously that the skin was
soon removed. Stasch was surprised that Saba was not there to help in
this work, so he whistled to invite him to the feast.
Saba did not come, but Kali, who was bending over the antelope, looked
up and said:
“The big dog has gone after the buffalo.”
“Did you see him?” said Stasch.
“Kali saw it.”
As he said this he lifted the body of the antelope with both hands, and
placing it upon his shoulder, he went off toward the gorge.
Stasch whistled once more and waited, but as he found that it was of no
avail, he followed Kali. In the gorge they found Mea busily cutting
thorns from the hedge, and Nell, who was plucking their last bird with
her tiny fingers, said:
“Did you whistle for Saba? He ran after you.”
“He ran after a buffalo which I shot and I am worried about him,”
answered Stasch. “These animals are so large and powerful that even a
lion is afraid to attack them. If Saba should try to fight one of them
he would fare badly.”
When Nell heard this she was worried also, and declared that she would
not go to bed until Saba returned. When Stasch saw how grieved she was
he felt angry with himself for not having concealed the danger from her,
and he tried to console her.
“I would have followed them with my rifle, but now they must be far
away; besides, night is approaching and their trail can not be seen. The
buffalo was hit squarely, and I hope it will fall. At any rate, it will
be so much exhausted from loss of blood that even if it were to fall
upon Saba, the dog could run away in time. Yes, he may not return till
night, but he will surely return.”
Stasch himself did not believe what he said, because he remembered what
he had heard about the vindictiveness of the African buffalo, which,
even when severely wounded, runs round in a circle and watches to see
which way the hunter goes, so as to attack him unawares, tossing him
high in the air with its horns. Quite likely Saba might have met with a
similar fate, besides other dangers to which he might be subjected in
his journey by night.
As soon as it had become dark Kali and Mea managed to make a hedge
fence, light a fire, and get supper ready. But even then there was no
sign of Saba.
Nell became very uneasy and began to cry. Stasch insisted on her lying
down and going to sleep, and he promised her to wait up for Saba and to
look for him and bring him back as soon as daylight appeared. Nell
entered the tent, but thrust out her little head continually to inquire
if the dog had returned. She did not fall asleep till after midnight,
when Mea left the tent to relieve Kali, who until now had watched by the
fire.
“Why does the Daughter of the Moon cry?” asked Kali, and Stasch, as they
both lay down on thin wooden benches to sleep, said:
“She is worried, fearing that Saba is killed by the buffalo.”
“Perhaps he has killed it,” answered the young negro.
Then they stopped talking and Stasch went fast asleep. He awoke while it
was still dark because it had become colder. Mea, who was supposed to be
on the watch, had fallen asleep, and so it had been some time since she
had put dry wood on the expiring flames.
No one was lying upon the felt quilt on which Kali had slept.
Stasch threw firewood on the glowing ashes, nudged the negress and
asked:
“Where’s Kali?”
For a time she stared at him as though in a trance, and then, when wide
awake, she said:
“Kali has taken Gebhr’s knife and gone outside of the hedge. I thought
he went to get more wood for the fire, but he has not returned yet.”
“Has he been gone a long while?”
“Yes, a long while.”
Stasch waited some time, but as the negro did not return, he reluctantly
asked himself, “Could he have run away?”
He felt a pain in his heart like that experienced by those who have met
with ingratitude. He had befriended Kali and protected him when Gebhr
tortured him daily, and had eventually saved his life. Nell always liked
him, she wept over his misfortunes, and they both were as kind as could
be to him, and yet he had now run away! He often said that he had no
idea in which direction the settlements of the Wa-hima lay, and that he
could not find his way there—and still he had run away.
Stasch again remembered the description of travels in Africa which he
had read in Port Said, the accounts of the travelers, the stupidity of
the negroes in throwing away the luggage and deserting—for even if
threatened with the punishment of certain death they did so just the
same. Evidently Kali, whose only weapon was a Sudanese sword, would
succumb to starvation or be recaptured by the Dervishes, unless devoured
by wild beasts.
“Oh, the ungrateful wretch! And what a fool!”
Stasch seriously began to think how much more difficult the journey
would be for them without Kali and how much more heavily the work would
fall on the others. To water the horses and tie them for the night, to
put up the tent and the hedge, to guard the luggage and to see that the
provisions were not lost, to skin and cut up the slain animals, all
duties which Kali had performed, would, through loss of the negro, fall
to his share, and he was obliged to confess to himself that he had no
definite idea how to do many of these things, as, for instance, skinning
animals.
“Well, what else can I do?” said he. “It will have to be done.”
Meanwhile the sun appeared above the horizon, and, as is always the case
at the equator, it was daylight in a minute. A little after this the
water in the tent, that Mea had prepared for the little lady to wash in,
began to splash, by which Stasch knew that Nell had arisen and that she
was dressing. Somewhat later she appeared completely dressed, but with
her comb in her hands and her hair not arranged.
“What about Saba?” asked she.
“He has not returned yet.”
The corners of the girl’s mouth began to tremble.
“Perhaps he will come back yet,” said Stasch. “You remember that
sometimes in the desert he was missing for two whole days, and yet he
always came back to us.”
“You said that you were going to look for him.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not, Stasch?”
“Because it is impossible for me to leave you alone with Mea.”
“And Kali?”
“Kali is not here.”
He drew back, debating with himself whether or not he ought to tell her
the whole truth; but as it would be impossible to hide it, he concluded
that it would be better to tell her everything.
“Kali has taken Gebhr’s sword,” he said, “and he went away during the
night, no one knows where. Who can tell? He may have run away. Negroes
often do this, even to their own detriment. I am sorry—but perhaps he
will now see that he has acted foolishly and——”
The next words were drowned by Saba’s joyful bark, which penetrated the
gorge. Nell threw down the comb and tried to run toward him, but the
thorns in the hedge prevented her.
Stasch at once began to tear down a part of the hedge, but before he had
succeeded in even making a passage Saba appeared, and behind him Kali,
shining and wet with dew as though soaked through by a very heavy
shower.
Both children were overcome with joy, and as soon as Kali, who was so
fatigued from his exertions that he could scarcely get his breath,
reached the inside of the hedge, Nell threw her little arms around his
black neck, hugging him tight.
“Kali does not like to see the Bibi cry,” he said, “so Kali looked for
the dog and found him.”
“Good Kali,” cried Stasch, patting him on the shoulder; “and were you
not afraid that you would meet a lion or a leopard during the night?”
“Kali afraid, but Kali go,” answered the young man.
These words endeared him still more to the children. At Nell’s request
Stasch took from one of the bundles a string of glass beads which the
Greek Kaliopuli had given them when they left Omdurman, and placed them
around Kali’s neck. He was delighted with the gift, and looking proudly
at Mea, said:
“Mea has no glass beads, but Kali has, for Kali is ‘Great World.’ ”
In this way the sacrifice of the black boy was rewarded. Saba, on the
contrary, received a severe reprimand, from which he was made to
understand for the second time during the period he had been with Nell,
that he was very naughty and that if he ever did such a thing again he
would be led by a leash like a small dog. He listened to this sermon
while wagging his tail with rather a double meaning. But Nell was sure
that she saw by the expression of his eyes that he was ashamed, and that
he had really blushed for shame, but that could not be perceived,
because his cheeks were covered with hair.
Then breakfast followed, and during this meal Kali recounted his
adventures, and Stasch translated them into English for Nell, who did
not understand the Ki-swahili language. It so happened that the buffalo
had run very far off, and it had been difficult for Kali to find his
trail, for there was no moon that night. As good luck would have it, it
had rained two days before, and the earth was not very hard; therefore
the feet of the heavy animal had made their impress in the wet earth.
Kali searched for the trail by observing the cleft in the hoofs, and
followed his footprints for some time. At last the buffalo stumbled and
must have fallen over dead, for there were no traces of a struggle
between him and Saba. When Kali found them Saba had already eaten the
largest part of one of his forefeet, but although he could not eat any
more himself, he would not permit two hyenas and several jackals, that
stood round and waited until the stronger animal of prey had had his
fill and gone away, to approach the meat.
The boy complained that the dog had even growled at him, but then he
threatened him with the displeasure of the “Great Man” and “Bibi,”
caught him by the collar, dragged him away from the buffalo, and did not
let him loose until he reached the gorge.
With this, the story of Kali’s adventures by night ended, then they all
mounted their horses and rode on contentedly.
All but the long-legged Mea, who, although quiet and submissive, looked
enviously at the necklace adorning the throat of the young negro and on
Saba’s collar, and thought sadly to herself:
“They are both ‘Great World,’ but I have only a ring on one foot.”