One day at table, just as Nell was putting a small piece of smoked meat
into her mouth, she drew back suddenly, as if disgusted, and said:
“I can’t eat anything to-day.”
Stasch, who had found out from Kali where the bees were, and had smoked
them out daily and taken the honey, was certain that the child had eaten
too much of the sweets, and therefore he paid no further attention to
her loss of appetite. But presently she arose and began to run quickly
round and round the campfire, each time making larger circles.
“Don’t go too far away,” called the boy to her; “something might happen
to you.”
But he was not afraid of any harm coming to her, for the presence of the
elephant, whom the wild animals scented, and his trumpeting, that
reached their keen, attentive ears, kept them at a respectful distance.
This afforded protection to them as well as their horses, because even
the most ferocious beasts of prey in the jungle, such as lions,
panthers, and leopards, do not care to come in contact with an elephant,
or in too close proximity to his tusks and trunk.
As the girl continued running faster and faster around the fire, Stasch
followed her and asked:
“Nell, you little moth, why do you run around the fire like that?”
Though he asked this in a cheerful voice, he had begun to be alarmed,
and his uneasiness increased as Nell answered:
“I don’t know; I can’t sit still in one place.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I feel so uncomfortable and queer——”
All at once she leaned her head on his shoulder, as if confessing a
fault, and cried out in a voice stifled by tears:
“Stasch, I must be ill.”
“Nell!”
At the same time he laid the palm of his hand on her forehead, which
felt dry and as cold as ice. Then he took her in his arms and carried
her to the camp-fire.
“Are you cold?” he asked on the way.
“Cold and hot, but mostly cold.”
Her teeth began to chatter, and her body was shaking with chills. Stasch
was now convinced that Nell had the fever.
He told Mea to take her at once into the tree, to undress her, and put
her to bed. Then he covered her up with everything he could find, for he
had noticed that in Khartum and Fashoda fever patients covered
themselves up with sheep skins to induce perspiration. He decided to
stay with Nell all night and give her hot water and mead to drink. At
first she did not want to take it. By the light of their rudely made
lamp Stasch noticed the glistening pupils of her eyes. Soon she began
complaining of the heat and shivering at the same time, although covered
with felt rugs and a shawl. Her hands and forehead were always cold, but
if Stasch had only had a slight knowledge of the symptoms of the fever
he would have seen from her great restlessness that she must have a very
high temperature. He was terrified on noticing that when Mea appeared
with hot water the girl looked at her with astonishment, even with fear,
and did not seem to recognize her at first. But with him she talked
rationally, told him that she could not lie down any longer, and begged
him to let her get up and run about. Then she asked him whether he was
angry with her for being ill, and on his assuring her that this was not
the case she blinked to drive back her tears, and promised that she
would be well the next day.
During this evening, or rather this night, the elephant was particularly
restless and roared incessantly, which set Saba barking again. Stasch
perceived that this excited the patient, and so he left the tree to
quiet the animals. Saba was easily pacified, but it was more difficult
to silence the elephant, and Stasch threw several melons down to him so
as to close his trunk for a while. On his return he saw by the light of
the fire Kali walking in the direction of the stream and carrying a
piece of smoked meat on his shoulder.
“What are you doing, and where are you going?” he asked the negro.
The black boy stood still, and as Stasch approached he said with an air
of secrecy:
“Kali goes to the other tree to place meat there for the bad Msimu.”
“Why?”
“So the bad Msimu will not kill good Msimu.”
Stasch wanted to reply, but a strange pain pressed like a weight on his
chest, so he only bit his lips and went silently away.
When he returned to the tree Nell had closed her eyes; her hands, which
lay on the felt rug, were trembling very much, but still she appeared to
be dozing. Stasch sat down by her side, and as he was afraid of awaking
her, he remained there motionless for some time. Mea, who was seated on
the other side, toyed all the time with the little pieces of ivory
hanging in her ears in order to keep awake. It had become very quiet,
and only from the lower bed of the stream, in the direction of the
swamp, could the croaking of the frogs and the mournful tooting of the
toads be heard.
Suddenly Nell raised herself up in bed.
“Stasch!”
“Here I am, Nell.”
Then, shaking like a leaf blown by the wind, she eagerly began to search
for his hand and to repeat hastily:
“I’m frightened; I’m frightened! Give me your hand!”
“Don’t be frightened. I’m here with you.”
And he grasped her hand, which now burned like fire, and having no idea
what to do, he began to cover the poor, wretched little hand with
kisses.
“Don’t be frightened, Nell; don’t be frightened.”
Then he gave her a drink of honey mixed with water, which had become
cold. This time Nell drank greedily, and when he tried to take the cup
away from her mouth she held his hands tight. The cold drink seemed to
quiet her.
A long silence ensued. Half an hour later Nell raised herself up again,
and there was a terrible expression of fright in her wide-open eyes.
“Stasch!”
“What is it, my dear?”
“Why,” she asked in a trembling, uncertain voice, “why do Gebhr and
Chamis walk around the tree and look in at me?”
Stasch suddenly felt as if thousands of ants had taken possession of
him.
“What are you talking about?” he said. “There’s no one here. Kali is the
only one walking around the tree.”
But she stared through the dark opening and cried with chattering teeth:
“And the Bedouins! Why did you kill them?”
Stasch put his arm around her and pressed her to him.
“You know why! Don’t look over there! Don’t think of it! That happened
long ago.”
“To-day! To-day!——”
This had happened a long time ago, but it always came back to her like
the wave that rolls back upon the shore, and it filled the mind of the
sick child with horror. All attempts to quiet her were unavailing.
Nell’s eyes grew larger and larger. Her heart beat so hard that it
seemed as if it would burst. Then she began to twist and throw herself
around like a fish drawn out of the water, and that condition lasted
till nearly morning. Not until daybreak did her strength give out and
her little head sink back on the pillow.
“I’m weak, weak, weak!” she repeated. “Stasch, I seem to be falling down
some place.” And then she closed her eyes.
At first Stasch was overcome, for he thought she was dead. But this was
only the end of the first paroxysm of this terrible and treacherous
African fever, two attacks of which are as much as a strong, robust
person can stand—for nobody has ever survived a third attack. Travelers
had often described the fever when at Mr. Rawlison’s house in Port Said,
and even more frequently the Catholic missionaries whom Mr. Tarkowski
entertained on their way back to Europe had told about it. It seems that
a second attack comes on after a few days, and a third, which, if it
does not appear within two weeks, is not fatal, for then it is
considered to be the first attack of another case. Stasch knew that
heavy doses of quinine alone could stop or alleviate the attacks, and he
had not a particle of it left.
Seeing that Nell was still breathing, he became somewhat composed, and
began to pray for her. In the meanwhile the sun appeared from behind the
cliffs in the gorge, and it became bright daylight. The elephant was
already demanding his breakfast, and from the direction of the stream
the screams of the water-birds could be heard. As the boy wanted to
shoot some birds to make a broth for Nell, he took the rifle and walked
along the edge of the stream to a group of high shrubs, in which the
birds generally perched for the night. But he was so exhausted from loss
of sleep, and his mind was so preoccupied with the thought of the girl’s
illness, that he did not see a swarm of birds, walking slowly in single
file, that passed him on their way to drink. Another reason why he did
not see them was that he was constantly praying. He thought of the
deaths of Gebhr and Chamis and the Bedouins, and lifting his eyes toward
heaven, he said in a voice drowned with emotion: “Dear Lord, I did this
for Nell, for Nell; for otherwise it would have been impossible to have
regained our freedom—but if I committed a sin, punish me, but restore
her to health——”
On the way he met Kali, who had gone to see if the wicked Msimu had
eaten the meat he had offered him the day before. The young negro, who
loved the little “Bibi,” prayed for her, too, but in quite a different
way. For he told the wicked Msimu that if “Bibi” recovered he would
bring him a piece of meat every day, but if she died he would—although
he felt frightened and knew he would perish—tear the wicked Msimu’s
skin to shreds and cause him to remember him forever. But he took
courage when he saw that the piece of meat he had placed there the day
before had disappeared. It might have been devoured by a jackal, but
then Msimu might have taken the form of a jackal.
Kali told Stasch of this favorable omen, but Stasch only gazed at him as
if he did not understand, and went on his way. While vainly searching
for birds in the shrubbery, he approached the stream. Its banks were
thickly wooded with tall trees, from which hung, like stockings, nests
of the Remizen—pretty little yellow birds with black wings—and also
wasps’ nests, shaped like large roses, and resembling gray
blotting-paper. At one point the stream formed a fairly broad, swampy
plain, which was partly overgrown with papyrus. In this swampy stretch
of land were many flocks of water-birds. There were storks, like the
European ones, and others with large, thick, hooked beaks; velvety black
birds with blood-red feet, flamingoes, ibises, and white spoon-bills
with pink wings and spoon beaks, cranes with crowns on their heads, and
a number of gulls, variegated or gray as mice, which, like tiny forest
sprites, ran to and fro on their long, thin, straw-like legs.
Stasch shot two large, bright-colored ducks, and walking over dead white
butterflies, which were strewn over the banks by the thousand, first
making sure there were no crocodiles in the ford, he waded into the
water and picked up the game. The shot had evidently frightened away the
birds, for there remained only two marabous, that stood near the water
at a short distance away. They resembled two old men, with bald heads
bowed down on their shoulders. They did not move. The boy took another
look at their ugly food bags, hanging down on their breasts, then
finding that the wasps were surrounding him, he returned to the camp.
Nell was still asleep, so he gave the ducks to Mea and then stretched
himself out on a felt rug and at once fell into a heavy sleep. He did
not awaken until the afternoon, a little earlier than Nell. The girl
felt somewhat stronger, and being slightly refreshed, she drank some
good, strong broth, arose and left the tree to look at King and the sun.
Only now, by daylight, could be seen the ravages made by the fever in
one night. Nell’s skin was yellow and transparent, her lips were black,
there were large circles under her eyes, and her little face looked much
older. Notwithstanding that she assured Stasch she felt quite strong,
and even though she had drunk a large cup of soup on awakening, she was
hardly able to drag herself to the edge of the gorge. Stasch was
terrified at the thought of the second attack. He had no medicine, nor
anything else to help her.
Meanwhile, there were several heavy showers every day, and this greatly
increased the humidity in the air.