It was not until toward noon the following day that Stasch started out
to revisit Linde, because he had to make up for the sleep he had lost
the night before.
Thinking that the sick man might need some fresh meat, he killed two
birds on the way, which were much appreciated. Linde was very weak, but
perfectly rational. As soon as they had exchanged greetings he inquired
how Nell was; then he told Stasch that he did not think quinine alone
would cure the fever, and said that he must guard the little one against
the sun’s rays, dampness, spending the night in low, damp places, and
finally against bad water. Then, as requested, Stasch narrated his own
and Nell’s adventures from the beginning as far as their arrival in
Khartum and their visit to the Mahdi, and from Fashoda to their escape
from Gebhr’s hands, and also their later wanderings. During this story
the Swiss looked at him with growing curiosity, and often even with
evident admiration, and as the tale approached its end he lighted his
pipe, looked at Stasch once more from head to foot, and, apparently lost
in thought, said:
“If there are many boys like you in your country, it will be hard to
conquer you.”
And after a short silence he continued:
“The best proof of the truth of your words is the fact that you are
standing here before me. And what I want to say to you is this, that you
are in a terrible predicament; the route, no matter which direction you
take, is beset with dangers, but who knows whether such a brave boy as
you can not safely lead both himself and that child out of this great
wilderness!”
“If Nell would only get well again I will do everything in my power,”
cried Stasch.
“But you must take care of yourself, too, for the work that lies before
you would tax the strength of a full-grown man. Have you ever thought
where you are?”
“No; I only remember that after leaving Fashoda we passed a river—near
a large settlement called Deng.”
“The river Sobat!” interrupted Linde.
“At Deng there were many Dervishes and negroes. But on the other side of
the Sobat we entered into a region of jungle, and marched for weeks
until we arrived at the gorge, in which you know what took place——”
“I know. You then went on through the gorge till you came to that
stream. Well, now listen; it is obvious that after passing over the
Sobat with the Sudanese you turned off to the southeast, or a little
more toward the south. The country you now happen to be in is unknown to
explorers and geographers. This river near us runs northwest, and
probably empties into the Nile. I say probably, for I am not quite sure
myself, although I turned off from the mountains of Karamajo to discover
its source. After the fight the captured Dervishes told me that it was
called Ogeloguer, but even they were not sure, for they only go into
this district to hunt slaves. This land was for the most part sparsely
inhabited by the Schilluks; but now the country is devoid of human
beings, for some of the people have died of smallpox, others have been
killed by the Dervishes, and still others have fled into the mountains
of Karamajo. It often happens in Africa that a stretch of land thickly
populated to-day becomes a wilderness to-morrow. I calculate that you
are about 300 kilometers distant from Lado. In fact, you might take
refuge with Ermin in Sudan, but as it is quite likely that Ermin himself
is besieged by the Dervishes, that course is out of the question.”
“How about going to Abyssinia?” asked Stasch.
“It is also nearly 300 kilometers distant. Besides that, one must reckon
that the Mahdi is now at war with the whole world, consequently with
Abyssinia. Besides, I have heard from the prisoners that bands of
Dervishes are wandering in the western and southern districts, and you
might easily fall into their hands. Abyssinia is certainly a Christian
land, but the savage races to the south are either heathens or believers
in Islam, and for that reason they secretly sympathize with the Mahdi.
No; you can not go through that country.”
“Then what shall I do, and where shall I go with Nell?” asked Stasch.
“I told you that you are in a difficult position,” murmured Linde; then
he covered his head with his hands and remained silent a while.
“From here to the ocean,” he at last said, “would be more than 900
kilometers, through mountain regions, wild tribes, and even desert
places, for on the way there are supposed to be large tracts of arid
land. But nominally the country belongs to England. One might strike
caravans of ivory on their way to Kismaya-Lam and Mombasa, perhaps even
meet missionary expeditions. When I saw that, owing to the Dervishes, I
could not escape the course of this river, as it turns off toward the
Nile, I made up my mind to go east toward the ocean.”
“Then we will return together!” cried Stasch.
“I shall never return. The _Ndiri_ beast tore my sinews and veins so
terribly that blood poisoning must certainly set in. Only a surgeon
could save me by amputating my leg. Now it has dried up and stiffened,
but on the first day the pain was so great that I bit into my hands
and——”
“You will certainly get well.”
“No, my brave boy, I shall surely die, and you must cover me well with
stones, so that the hyenas can not dig me up. This is perhaps of little
consequence to the dead, but while alive it is not a pleasant thought.
It is hard to have to die so far away from one’s family.”
At these words his eyes became veiled, and after a while he continued:
“But I have become accustomed to the thought, so let us now talk about
you, not about me. I will give you one piece of advice: There is only
one road for you to take, which is to the east toward the ocean. But
before attempting this journey you should rest well and gather strength;
otherwise your little companion will die in a few weeks. Postpone the
journey until the rainy season is over and perhaps even longer. The
first months of summer, when it has ceased raining, and the water still
covers the swamps, are the most healthful. This place, where we now are,
is an elevated plateau lying nearly seven hundred feet above the level
of the sea. In high regions of one thousand three hundred feet there is
no fever, and if by chance it be carried there from places of lower
altitude, it assumes a much milder form. Take the little English girl
and go into the mountains with her.”
Talking evidently tired him very much, and so he paused once more, and
for a time fought off large blue flies—the same kind that Stasch had
seen in Fashoda.
Then he resumed:
“Pay strict attention to what I am going to tell you. One day’s journey
toward the south you will see an isolated mountain, not more than eight
hundred feet high. It looks like an overturned saucepan; its sides are
very steep. The only way to reach it is by a mountain pass so narrow
that in some places two horses can barely walk abreast. On its flat
summit, about a kilometer broad, there used to be a small negro village,
but the Mahdists have killed some of the inhabitants and have taken
others away with them. It may be that this was done by the very Smain I
conquered, but whose slaves I could not capture because he had already
sent them under heavy guard toward the Nile. Up there on the top is a
spring of excellent water, several fields of manioc and a quantity of
banana-trees. You will also find there many human bones, but you need
not fear that these corpses will produce a plague, for after the
Dervishes left the ants drove us away from the plain. Other than these,
not a human soul! Remain one or two months in that village. At that
height there is no fever. The nights are cool. There your little one
will regain her health and you your strength.”
“And then what shall I do, and where shall I go?”
“Leave the rest to the guidance of God. By all means try to go toward
the places in Abyssinia which are furthest away from the Dervishes, but
go toward the east. I have heard that the Arabians, hunting for ivory,
which they get from the Samburu and Wa-hima tribes, advance as far as a
certain lake.”
Now Stasch began to tell Linde how he had obtained Kali (Gebhr’s
servant) after Gebhr’s death, and also that the young negro had said
that he was the son of the chief of the Wa-himas.
But Linde was much more indifferent to this news than Stasch had
expected.
“All the better,” he said, “for he can be of use to you. Among the
blacks there are kind souls, although on the whole one can not depend on
their gratitude, because they are but children still, and forget to-day
what happened yesterday.”
“Kali will not forget that I saved him from Gebhr—I’m sure of that.”
“Possibly,” said Linde, and pointing to Nasibu, he added:
“He is also a good child. Take care of him after my death.”
“Don’t always think of death, and don’t talk of it.”
“My dear,” answered the Swiss, “I long for it—all I hope is that it
will take place without further suffering. Just think, I am now quite
helpless, and if one of the Mahdists whose band I dispersed should
accidentally wander through this narrow pass, he could slaughter me like
a lamb single-handed.”
He pointed to the sleeping negroes, and resumed:
“These will never wake, or, more correctly, each one will wake once
again shortly before his death, and will run madly through the jungle,
from which he will never return. Out of two hundred people there were
only sixty left me. Many ran away, died of smallpox, or lay down to die
in other gorges.”
Stasch gazed at the negroes, his heart full of horror and pity. Their
bodies were of an ashy gray, which in the negro signifies pallor. The
eyes of some were tightly closed, of others half open, but even these
were sleeping soundly, for the pupils of their eyes were not sensitive
to the light. The knee-joints of some were swollen. All were so terribly
emaciated that their ribs could be seen through their skin. Their hands
and feet shook incessantly and rapidly. Blue flies had settled in thick
masses on their eyes and lips.
“Is there no help for them?” asked Stasch.
“No. In the district of the Victoria-Nyanza this illness kills the
inhabitants of entire villages. Sometimes it is worse than at others.
The inhabitants of the villages lying in the woods near its banks are
most frequently attacked.”
The sun was already in the west, but before evening Linde had told
Stasch of his adventures. He said he was the son of a merchant in
Zürich, that his family had come from Karlsruhe, and that in the year
1848 they had settled in Switzerland. His father had made a great
fortune as a silk merchant. He had his son trained as an engineer, but
young Henry from his earliest youth was beset with the idea of
traveling. When he graduated from the Polytechnic School he inherited
the entire fortune of his father, and then started on his first journey
to Egypt. This took place before the time of the Mahdi, and so he got as
far as Khartum, and hunted in the Sudan with the Dongalese. He then
devoted himself to studying the geography of Africa, in which he so
excelled that he belonged to many geographical societies. This last
journey, which was to terminate so badly for him, had been undertaken
from Zanzibar. He had got as far as the great lakes and intended to
advance along the unexplored mountains of Karamajo as far as Abyssinia,
and from there to the borders of the sea. But the people of Zanzibar
would not accompany him any further. Fortunately, or unfortunately, war
was at that time raging between the kings of Uganda and Unyoro. Linde
materially assisted the king of Uganda, and the latter as a reward gave
him more than two hundred black _Agisis_. That naturally greatly
facilitated the journey and the visit to the Karamajo Mountains, but
just then the smallpox broke out among the people, followed by the
terrible sleeping-sickness, and at last the caravan was demoralized and
destroyed.
Linde had with him quantities of provisions, consisting of all kinds of
canned goods, but as he dreaded the scurvy, he hunted daily for fresh
meat. He was a splendid shot, but not a very cautious hunter.
And so it happened that a few days before, when he had foolishly
approached too near a wounded _Ndiri_ wild boar, the animal sprang up,
tore his leg terribly, and wounded him in the back. This happened quite
near this camp, and in full view of Nasibu, who tore up his own shirt
and made a bandage of it to stop the flow of blood, and brought the
wounded man back to the tent. But as the result of internal bleeding,
clumps of coagulated blood formed, and the patient was threatened with
gangrene.
Stasch insisted on bandaging him, and declared that either he would come
to see him every day, or—so as not to leave Nell alone in the care of
the two negroes—put him on a felt rug stretched out between two horses
and bring him to “Cracow.” Linde was willing to let Stasch make a new
bandage for him, but he would on no account listen to the thought of
being removed.
“I know,” he said, pointing to his negroes, “that these people must die,
but as long as death has not yet come to them I can not condemn them
while alive to be torn to pieces by the hyenas, who are only kept at a
distance during the night by the campfire.”
And he at once began to repeat feverishly:
“I can not, I can not, I can not!”
However, he soon regained his composure, and continued in a peculiarly
sad, ringing voice:
“Come here to-morrow early. I have a great favor to ask of you, and if
you grant it, God will perhaps lead you both out of this African hell,
and I will die contented. I wanted to postpone this request until
to-morrow, but as I may be unconscious to-morrow, I will tell you
to-day. Pour water into a vessel, go up to each of these poor sleeping
creatures, sprinkle water on his head, and say: ‘I baptize you in the
name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.’ ”
This he said with a voice full of emotion, and then became silent.
“I blame myself,” he said after a while, “that I did not take leave in
the same way of those who died of the smallpox and of those who died
even earlier. But now I am threatened with death—and would like
to—that is, with the remainder of my caravan, go on this last great
journey with them.”
At these words he pointed with his hand to the flaming sky, and two
large tears trickled slowly down his cheeks.
Stasch wept like a child.