Emin Pasha - Life Stories for Young People

By Author	[ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z \| Other Symbols ]
By Title	[ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z \| Other Symbols ]
By Language

Download this book: [ ASCII ]

Look for this book on Amazon

We have new books nearly every day.
If you would like a news letter once a week or once a month fill out this form and we will give you a summary of the books for that week or month by email.

Title: Emin Pasha - Life Stories for Young People
Author: Plehn, M. C.
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.

*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Emin Pasha - Life Stories for Young People" ***

(This file was produced from images generously made
available by the Library of Congress)

[Illustration: _EMIN PASHA_]

_Life Stories for Young People_

EMIN PASHA

_Translated from the German of
M. C. Plehn_

BY
GEORGE P. UPTON
_Translator of “Memories,” “Immensee,” etc._

WITH FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS

[Illustration: A. C. McCLURG & CO.]

CHICAGO
A. C. McCLURG & CO.
1912

THE · PLIMPTON · PRESS
[W · D · O]
NORWOOD · MASS · U · S · A

Translator’s Preface

Emin Pasha, sometimes called “the father of the Equatorial Provinces,”
is a notable figure in the records of African exploration. He was
preëminently a scientist and was devotedly fond of zoölogy and botany.
Amid all his cares of office, his sufferings from the hardships of
African exploration, his neglect and ill-treatment at the hands of the
Khedive and his ill-health and growing blindness, he pursued his
scientific investigations with passionate ardor.

No African explorer ever had the welfare of the Soudanese more at heart
than he, and yet he met a cruel fate at the hands of treacherous Arabs
and was murdered while studying his favorite plants and birds. In all
his long career he never injured anyone, but constantly strove for the
welfare of the natives and retained his confidence in them after it was
apparent to almost everyone else that they were treacherously conspiring
against him.

The German author now and then hints at friction between Emin Pasha and
Stanley, and is inclined to blame Stanley for indifference as to Emin’s
fate after he had been sent to bring him relief. The friction, if it
existed, was probably due to the different temperaments of the two men.
Emin Pasha was conservative, blindly attached to the Soudanese, certain
he could govern them by mild measures, a quiet, reserved scholar
passionately devoted to scientific pursuits and at home in Africa,
rather than an explorer. Stanley was a man of action, bold, and dashing,
who, in the phrase of the day, might be called “a hustler.” It is
undoubtedly true that at times he had little patience with Emin’s
slowness and cautiousness and his scientific absorption which sometimes
rendered him oblivious to dangers besetting him.

G. P. U.

Chicago, _July, 1912_

Contents

Chapter Page
I The Father of His People 11
II The Slave Question 21
III The Carpenter of Dongola and the Mahdists 26
IV Calm Before the Storm 33
V The Enemy Approaches 39
VI Casati’s Adventure 45
VII In Need of Help 57
VIII Stanley Comes to the Relief of Emin 61
IX The Meeting at the Lake 70
X The Mutiny 75
XI The Tragedy at Jambuja 80
XII Again in the Dark Forest 85
XIII Fresh Troubles 88
XIV The March to Zanzibar 92
XV Emin’s Misfortune 96
XVI New Plans 99
XVII Ferida’s Departure 101
XVIII Again in the Heart of Africa 104
XIX Again with the Soudanese 109
XX To the West 113
XXI Emin’s Death 118
Appendix 125

Illustrations

Emin Pasha _Frontispiece_
A Serious Accident to Emin 41
First Meeting of Stanley with Emin Pasha 71
The Snow Mountain 94
Major Wissmann 105

Emin Pasha

Chapter I
The Father of his People

As the famous traveller, Dr. Junker,[1] came in sight of the town of
Lado[2] on the Nile, on the twenty-first of January, 1884, after a
year’s stay in the Soudan, he felt that all his privations and dangers
were at an end, though many hundreds of miles still separated him from
his home. After having been deprived so long of nearly everything that
we consider the ordinary necessities of life, after wandering alone in
the wilderness, in primeval forests and over sunburned plains, among
cannibals and cruel man-trafficking Arabs, he knew that he would find a
white man in Lado who could speak his native tongue,—a zealous scholar
and finely cultured man, who would acquaint him with everything from
which he had been excluded so long—a friend who would welcome him with a
cordial grasp of the hand; in a word, Emin Pasha, that heroic governor
of the Equatorial Provinces, whose strange fate and cruel murder filled
the whole civilized world with astonishment and sympathy.

After a short day’s march through the country of the Bari,[3] the
traveller was certain that the end of his journey was not far distant.
How different were the well-cultivated farmlands from the wilderness,
interspersed here and there with Arab settlements. The negroes had their
property well protected, their herds were grazing in all directions, and
the people of the numerous villages did not flee, but kept calmly about
their work. Dr. Junker’s servants were astonished when they saw that in
this country the stronger did not appropriate the property of the weaker
and that the Turkish government had not disturbed them.

As the expedition neared the station, shots were fired as a welcome. The
advancing boys and carriers made way and Junker perceived a body of men
in faultlessly white garments coming to meet him. At their head he at
once recognized his friend, Dr. Emin Pasha, a slim, almost haggard man
of little more than medium height, with a small face, dark full beard,
and deep-set eyes, whose sight was rendered keener by spectacles. His
demeanor and movements impressed one with his composure and
self-control. His external appearance betrayed an almost painful
neatness. He and his attendants rode mules and six black soldiers in
white uniforms followed him. To Dr. Junker it appeared a festal
procession and tears came to his eyes. He sprang from his horse and
greeted his friend first, then the others. The rest of the distance to
the station was made on foot, the two eagerly conversing.

What a change there had been at Lado since Dr. Junker last saw its
miserable rush huts, six years before. At that time, Emin had just begun
his difficult administration. The changes which they saw all about them
testified eloquently to the governor’s abilities.

The man holding this high position in the Soudan arose from humble
circumstances. His real name was Edward Schnitzer. He was born at Oppeln
in Silesia, in 1840, and shortly after his family removed to Neisse,
where many of his relatives are living to-day. We know little about his
youth, but we are told that the boy was an enthusiastic naturalist, fond
of making collections of flowers and insects, and even at that time
noted for his reserve and thoughtfulness. Both these characteristics are
observable in the man. The study of nature was his principal recreation
and compensated for his lack of human intercourse. But his conscientious
devotion to science and his aversion to publicity leave us little
knowledge of his accomplishments or his real sentiments. Even his most
intimate friends knew little of his inner nature, and while his letters
to European scholars reveal his varied activities, yet they are of no
value in throwing light upon his nature, which makes it difficult to
understand some of the actions of the man.

Edward Schnitzer studied medicine in Breslau and Berlin in 1863-64 and
took the doctor’s degree. It was his love of nature that led him to go
abroad. He went to Trieste and Antivari, and from there, with a Turkish
companion, Hakki Pasha, to Trebizond. He soon succeeded in gaining
respect and influence. His facility in adapting himself to the habits of
the places where he was stopping, the remarkable ease with which he
learned languages (he spoke Turkish and Arabic as if they were his
native tongues), and the success which attended his medical practice,
quickly brought him fame and importance; and when, as was the custom in
those countries, he changed his German name to a foreign one (Emin, “the
Faithful”), he was hardly recognizable as a European. In the company of
Hakki he explored Arabia and then went to Janina and Constantinople.
When his protector died, the young physician returned home and devoted
himself entirely to scientific pursuits. But soon the monotony of
everyday life and its quiet regularity, the colorless northern
landscape, and frequent cloudy skies became unendurable, and he suddenly
decided to make a change. In 1876 he went south again, this time to
Egypt. He reached there at just the right time, for the enterprising
Khedive, Ismail Pasha, was attracting large numbers of Europeans to his
country because of his extension of the limits of the ancient kingdom of
Pharaoh far to the south and the west.

Emin placed himself at the disposition of Gordon Pasha as a physician,
Gordon at that time being governor of Hat-el-Estiva. He soon recognized
Emin’s importance, and intrusted several diplomatic missions to negro
chiefs in the south to him. When Gordon resigned his position in 1878 to
enter upon a wider field of action, Emin became his successor and
governed a territory in the Equatorial Provinces which stretched from
Lado to the equator and was as large as France, Germany, and Austria
combined.

Emin owed his elevation to the post of governor to Dr. Junker’s
recommendation. Consequently the latter was very anxious to know what he
had accomplished in the wilderness, so far away from civilization. As
Emin conducted his guest to his private divan, it seemed to him a
palace, though it would have been a very unassuming structure to us. It
stood upon a plaza, on the bank of the Nile, in the form of a spacious,
enclosed rectangle. On the east side, towards the river and also towards
the north, was the house, surrounded by rows of dark green lemon trees,
between the servants’ and watchmen’s cabins. On the west side of the
plaza were two larger cabins and a great sun awning which made a most
comfortable lodging for the traveller and his company. Emin’s house had
doors and windows, but the entrances of the other dwellings were fitted
with curtains. The houses were built of brick and stood in regular order
upon broad streets which were intersected by narrower rectangular
thoroughfares.

The numerous huts of the natives were constructed of straw and palm
leaves. These light buildings lasted only about three years, for
termites[4] and borers were busied in their destruction day and night,
and they were frequently destroyed by fire in the dry season. Emin could
preserve his collections only by the most constant care. Thousands of
stuffed birds, his papers, diaries, and provisions had to be guarded
against indefatigable insects. The termites especially swarmed in the
inner passageways of the house, infested the beds and shelves and made
havoc with Emin’s stores.

The arrangement of the divan was simple and recalled the comforts of
home. A long massive work table was covered with writing materials,
another with meteorological instruments and periodicals, and European
chairs stood at each. At the side was a small library on shelves and
upon several round iron tables were various useful articles, such as are
common with us. All the tables had neat covers. In two corners were
chests and cases and flowered curtains hung at the doors and windows.

The morning hours were spent by the two friends in conversation, but the
dinner with table napkins and changes of plate was so surprising to our
traveller, unaccustomed to such luxury, that it nearly took away his
appetite. One morning Emin invited his friend for a walk to his
storehouse and the government garden, of which he was very proud.
Countless lemon and banana trees, full of fruit, shaded the passageway.
Bitter oranges, sweet lemons, oranges and pawpaws, which are somewhat
like our melons, only sweeter, were also cultivated. White and yellow
and exceedingly fragrant flowers and golden and red fruit shone in the
dark foliage everywhere. Emin had also imported pomegranates, small fig
trees, and grapevines. Of vegetables there were our cucumbers, several
kinds of cabbage, all the Arabian vegetables, as well as the cassava,
the sweet batata,[5] and sugar cane.

The government made a profit out of the garden as the surplus of its
products was sold daily for a fixed sum. There were such gardens at all
the stations and Emin exerted himself to supply the natives with seeds
of all kinds and instructions how to plant them so that they might have
the benefit of fruit and vegetables. He explained, however, that the
negroes were so easy-going and childlike by nature that he always had
trouble with them. They cultivated rice, coffee, cotton, and all the
products of Emin’s garden, but in spite of all his admonitions they
would never remember to retain seed corn. So, when the time came for
sowing, appeals for seed were made on all sides and the governor was
kept busy in sending for it. The negro had no anxiety for the coming
day, for “Father Emin” was in Lado. A visit was next made to the drug
department, from which a shaded walk led to the back of the garden,
where there were several cabins for the use of the sick. The walk was a
charming one, as it was shut off from the vegetable garden near by by
hedges of flowers.

They now reached a spot where the walk widened and Dr. Junker uttered an
exclamation of joyous surprise. A lovely picture was before him. Under a
canopy of blue and purple flowers and green vines sat a beautiful
Arabian woman upon cushions rocking a charming child upon her knees. It
was the little Ferida, Emin’s daughter, early bereft of her mother. She
greeted her father with a joyous outcry, took the outstretched hand of
the unknown guest in the most friendly manner, and gazed at him with
indescribably deep, dark, serious eyes. She was a solitary child,
without companions of her own age, without playthings or instruction,
who would have had plenty of companions in Europe. She had to be
carefully protected from the dangers of the tropical world, from snakes
and deadly scorpions, which frequently made their way into the house
through open windows. She could never leave the garden and go down to
the river, for beasts of prey, which they often heard howling not far
away, frequently attacked people and dragged them off. So Ferida had to
stay the whole day with her dark-skinned nurse, a tall woman in a
scarlet undergarment and white loose wrapper, eagerly waiting for the
evening hour when the father would have time to see his darling.

At such times the serious man and the lovely child would sit close to
each other upon a bench in the dense shade of the bananas, watching the
play of the shadows which the bluish moonlight made through the foliage
upon the dark red ground. Over all reigned a mysterious silence, only
broken by the rustling of the banana leaves. Great bats flitted like
spirits through the air. “The father of the four wings,” as the Arabs
call the nightjar, with its long fantastic feathers, which in flying
give it the appearance of a dragon, flew noiselessly about. Bluish
lights marked the course of the great “lamp carriers,” the tropical
fireflies, and whirring night butterflies fluttered about, hardly
visible to the eye in their dark dress. All nature was filled with the
deepest peace. Then Emin would tell her of his quiet peaceful life in
the far northern cities; of his joyous yet strenuous student life in
beautiful Berlin; of his journey over the blue sea, which Ferida cannot
yet imagine, notwithstanding his description of it; of Constantinople
and its splendid palaces with their golden domes; of the desert, with
its burning sun and the silence of the dreamy nights, when the stars are
unnaturally bright; of brown and black people with their different
habits and costumes; of wars and adventures; of the terrors of forest
fires, and of the curious dwellings of the negroes. Then he would
describe the plants, birds, and four-footed animals he had studied so
closely and tell her fables and romances that he had heard on his many
journeys from the natives, so that his child, who had no story books,
might at least have a pretty one of her own father’s telling.

Chapter II
The Slave Question

Dr. Junker greatly enjoyed the quiet, peaceful life which his friend was
leading on the extreme frontier of civilization, but many serious
questions were troubling him, and he availed himself of the first
leisure moments to ask Emin about the condition of the slave trade in
the Soudan. “I heard in Europe,” he said, “that this shameful business
was to be entirely suppressed and yet I have been for a year among these
unfortunate people in the district of Bahr-el-Ghazal and have seen how
the Arab robbers in armed bands have fallen upon the poor negroes,
carried off the young women and boys, driven away their herds, often
burned their villages, and left ruin and desolation in their wake. It is
dreadful to think that so many of these poor captives have perished on
the way from hunger and brutal treatment and that they have been
needlessly sacrificed. And yet it is asserted that the Egyptian
government has abolished the slave trade and made the exporting of
blacks impossible.”

Emin replied in his deep, sonorous voice: “You have touched perhaps the
most painful wound from which the welfare and civilization of this
region, so richly blest by Nature, are suffering. But where shall one
begin to cure the evil? The negro people of the interior sell their
prisoners, captured in their petty wars, and look upon it as their
surest source of revenue. The Niam-Niam and other tribes simply eat
their prisoners, and it is surely a step in advance if they sell instead
of eat the unlucky victims. Those Arab hordes which have invaded the
Soudan from Egypt and Nubia with their hireling soldiers are the worst.
They have established fortified stations from which they systematically
conduct their hunting expeditions.

“The Nile officials should not let them escape with their black plunder,
but no Egyptian or Turk can resist ‘backsheesh,’ and they know a
thousand ways in which they can transport their black freight by night
to the shores of the Red Sea and get it into Arabia. Those slaves which
are actually sold for household servants are often better off, for most
of the Moslems are kind to their servants. There is not much work for
them, for every household has from twenty to thirty and sometimes fifty
servants and they stay with the family to the end of their lives, for
the Turks consider it dishonorable to sell their servants. But
man-hunting is not the less objectionable on that account, and yet how
are these dealers to support themselves? The government has monopolized
the ivory business and there is nothing else to be found in the
interior. The Moslems have learned no kind of hand work and they would
rather starve than do it. I have driven that hangman’s brood from my
domain, but it was not accomplished without hard fighting. You can
hardly imagine what a multitude of lazy, useless vagabonds live upon the
poor negroes.

“The people supply them with ivory, grain of various kinds, honey, wax,
and butternut oil, but none of this comes to the government storehouse.
It is all lavished in the most scandalous manner by the officials upon
their hangers-on and dependents. These people not only pay for nothing,
but they take everything they can. In the Amadi district, for instance,
there are at least ten thousand negroes, and they had to support two
thousand good-for-nothings by their field labor, for they have neither
hunting nor live stock. They did not even allow these poor men to work
quietly in their fields. If any complaint was made, in two days five
hundred of them were carried off. But I have subdued them by fire and
sword, and to-day my negroes enjoy their possessions and their families
are brought up without the fear that their half-grown children will be
carried off by brute force.

“It is difficult to succeed here, for the government does not support me
and almost feels as if the officials were justified in robbing the
negroes, as it sometimes cannot pay them for a year at a time. But the
greatest absurdity is the edict issued from Khartoum, forbidding
merchants to go to these provinces. During the whole six years of my
administration here only nine steamers have come up the Nile, and we are
so destitute of absolutely necessary things that I have to economize,
for instance, in writing paper in continual fear that my stock will give
out before I can get more.”

“I shall be delighted,” said Dr. Junker with a smile, “if I can help you
with some trifles. I have still a hamper which I brought out of the
wilderness that has not been touched, filled with all those objects that
they do not care for there, and with which they would part for money.”
“No, no, I do not need them,” replied Emin. “In a few weeks I shall be
at home. How precious the word sounds!” But Junker produced his
treasures, spread them out on the big tables, and invited Emin and his
officers to help themselves.

All were delighted. A little package of cigarette paper was instantly
pounced upon. A little Parisian folding table with two leaves, a woven
hammock and a large tent screen were given to Emin as a present. Books,
various instruments, a revolver, and a small gun were also very welcome.
Dr. Junker’s servants and maids received for their share pearls, copper
and bronze bracelets, needles, thread, knives, and scissors, which are
used as a medium of exchange among the savages in place of money. Linen
garments were also divided among them, but two pieces of woollen stuffs
and a new costume were retained by Dr. Junker, as he reflected that he
might have use for them later.

Chapter III
The Carpenter of Dongola and the Mahdists

“The All-merciful God has placed the sword of victory in my hands and
declares to all peoples that I am the Mahdi. He has designated me by the
white scar upon my right cheek. In the uproar of battle I will follow
the gleaming banner, borne by Asrael, the death angel, the destroyer of
my enemies.” With these words Mohammed Achmet, the carpenter of Dongola,
a settler upon the island of Aba, announced to the world his mission to
purify Islam and found a kingdom of justice and happiness.

This was in May, 1881. The attention of the Egyptian government was now
fixed upon Mohammed Achmet. Hitherto it was hoped that they had only to
deal with one of those fanatical outbreaks which are frequent in the
Orient and quickly subside, but when the feast of Ramadhan occurred, the
pallid apostle, haggard from his penitential fast, appeared with weapons
in his hands. Several attempts to make him prisoner failed, which only
tended to confirm the reports of his sanctity. Abu Saud was slain; and
Raschid Bey, who tried to stem his victorious course, fell at the head
of his overwhelmingly defeated troops. The Mahdi unfurled the banner of
revolt in the country of Baggaria.

There were many grounds for discontent in the Soudan. The venality of
the officials, the unjust and oppressive tax levies, the partiality
shown to agents had quietly and slowly created excitement among the
people. As Emin told his friend, the attempted suppression of the slave
trade had obstructed the sources of wealth and together with the
extortionate taxes had impoverished the country without having
beneficial effects of any kind. The hatred grew daily and this precept
of the Koran found an echo in their hearts: “Slay those who would slay
you. Slay them wherever you find them. Hunt them down, for the
temptation to idolatry is worse than death.”

The revolt was now in full blast. On the seventh of June, 1882, the army
of Jussuf Pasha was surprised in the dense forests of Mount Kadas and
annihilated. The Mahdi, as the result of this victory, secured large
additions to his followers, sent an expedition to the south, invested
Kordofan, and made himself master of the west bank of the Nile. In the
meantime there was such unrest in Alexandria that the English government
took steps to protect its own subjects and declared its readiness to
conduct operations in the Soudan. Lieutenant Stewart was sent to
Khartoum to study the revolt and suggest measures for suppressing it.
Certain operations succeeded, but the results were not lasting.

In September, 1883, a large army was organized in command of General
Hicks. This new army, of one thousand men, five hundred horses, and
fifty-five hundred camels, should have been a match for the irregular
troops of the Mahdi. The beginning of operations was auspicious. At
Alloba one detachment of Mahdists was dispersed and on the second of
November, while marching through a thickly wooded region, General Hicks
attacked the rebels and forced them to retreat. But on the fourth of
November they suddenly found themselves surrounded by a force over one
hundred thousand strong and the heights resounded with the war cry, “Ti
sebil Ellah,” the fatalistic invocation presaging destruction.

All efforts were idle. Their heroic courage could not enable them to
break through that wall of iron which blocked every possible avenue of
escape. On the afternoon of November 7 (1883) the attack was universal,
murderous, and desperate. It was no longer a battle, but a massacre.
Hicks was killed and all his soldiers with him. Mohammed Achmet
collected the heads of the slain and sent them home as trophies. The
cause of the prophet apparently was under divine protection. The revolt
grew in importance and even the gentlest of the races made common cause
with the victor. The fortune of war also favored the rebels in the
eastern Soudan.

In Egypt the affairs of the Soudan provinces were regarded as desperate,
and its inability to put down such a formidable rebellion was clearly
apparent. The English government advised the removal of the government
officials and soldiers from the Soudan, which included Emin and his
people. It was a heroic undertaking, but one without hope of success.
The removal of sixty thousand people through a country in open revolt,
swarming with fanatical rebels, without sufficient means of
transportation or arrangements for subsistence, was inevitably destined
to end in a catastrophe. For this difficult undertaking General Gordon,
who had before this rendered important service in the Soudan, was again
called upon. He offered himself freely and willingly. His was a nature
whose courage increased with each new danger and was never troubled with
thoughts of the morrow. At Berber he declared the independence of the
Soudan, gave up the administration of Kordofan to the Mahdi, and
re-enacted the laws for the suppression of slavery.

On the eighteenth of February, 1884, he arrived at Khartoum and began at
once to strengthen its defences. The magic of his name held the
rebellion in check. Mohammed Achmet did not dare to resist him by force
of arms until he had completely woven the threads of his mysterious
plans. Gordon began to hope and devoted his entire attention to the
evacuation of the Soudan. But in the east, at Suakim, things were going
badly. The government’s troops were routed at El Teb and Sinkat, and
Tokar fell. The rebels had the advantage of superior numbers. Thousands
fell, but other thousands of the fanatics took their places. Gordon did
not find a favorable opportunity to evacuate the Soudan. The English
government would have nothing more to do with the matter, but public
sentiment forced the premier, Gladstone, to authorize an expedition for
the rescue of Gordon. It took a much longer time than was anticipated to
organize this force.

The year 1885 was an anxious one for Gordon. Daily and hourly he waited
for news of his deliverers. In the meantime the Mahdi invested Khartoum.
He knew that the magic of his name and the triumph of his cause would be
established by this last decisive test and that he must concentrate all
his efforts upon the Nile. The English were everywhere delayed. Time was
pressing and delay was dangerous. Two steamers at last were sent to
Khartoum under command of Lieutenant Wilson. They came in sight of
Khartoum on the twenty-eighth of January, 1885, and were received with a
fierce fire of artillery. The city was in possession of the Mahdi.
Wilson again sailed down the Nile. Both steamers were wrecked upon rocks
in the river and he himself reached the English camp with the sad
news.[6]

There were only a few survivors left to tell what happened at Khartoum.
At seven o’clock on the morning of the twenty-sixth of January, 1885,
there was unexpected alarm and uproar in the city. The air was filled
with shouts and the people were rushing about in wild disorder. The
plaza, where the governor’s palace stood, resounded with fanatical and
insulting outcries. They were calling for Gordon, “the enemy of God.”
Violence followed threats. Guns were fired, efforts were made to break
down the palace gates, fugitives were murdered. The city was turned into
a hell of cruelty and bloodshed. Gordon, the man “without fear and
without reproach,” had been betrayed and sold to the enemy by the very
men he had befriended and whom he was seeking to help.

At last the great door of the palace opened and a man in simple military
uniform, his sword by his side and the distinctions he had earned upon
his breast, stepped out. It was Gordon with his arms crossed upon his
breast. He stepped back from the crowd and quietly surveyed it. His
heroic majesty affected his bloodthirsty enemies and they were silent.
It was the last sign of respect paid to the martyr by them. Suddenly a
shot was fired and Gordon fell, pierced in the forehead. His head was
carried upon a stake to the tent of Mohammed Achmet and his body was
thrown into the Nile. A horrible massacre prevailed three days in the
city.

Chapter IV
Calm Before the Storm

It is a proof of Emin’s personal honor and importance, as well as of the
confidence reposed in him by the negroes and Arabs, that this revolt
could spread for a whole year without affecting Hat-el-Estiva more than
by disquieting reports. It was natural for the natives to make common
cause with the Mahdi, for the Egyptian government had burdened them with
heavy taxation. But such was Emin’s high sense of justice, his
compassion for the oppressed, and his strict dealing with unfaithful
officials or plundering Dongolans that there was no thought of revolt.
Here and there, however, he discovered traces of disquiet, but could not
find who or what caused it. Meantime he learned that the Mahdi had
captured Kordofan. Governor Lupton Pasha was forced by his own people to
give up Bahr-el-Ghazal. The enemy was near by. The non-arrival of the
steamer increased his embarrassment. The government at Khartoum was in
the greatest danger and could be of no help to him and he was greatly
incensed at his seeming neglect.

At last treason and revolt began to appear in Emin’s province. The worst
thing was the great uncertainty and the daily conflicting rumors. Now it
was reported that seven thousand Arabs were approaching and several
stations had been lost. On the next day messengers appeared from Bor and
Schamlee, very important points, some of whom said that these places had
been captured, others that they were all right. The bad news, however,
proved to be true. Here and there rebellious Arabs with their servants
and slaves were making their way through the country to join the
Mahdists at Kordofan. The garrisons of stations again found it necessary
to levy upon provisions, whereupon the negroes attacked and killed them.
Finally, a fugitive from Kordofan told a strange story. The Mahdi
informed his followers that a great commander had come to Khartoum from
the north with sixty thousand soldiers. He meant Gordon. Then he showed
them three baskets and said in the most ecstatic manner: “In these
baskets are the souls of all these strangers. The earth will swallow up
twenty thousand of them. Twenty thousand will disappear in the air. The
rest will be slain by the Mahdi, the true Prophet.” Emin was encouraged
by the first part of the story. That so great an army should be near
gave him courage and hope for release.

The seven thousand Arabs which had been reported did not appear, for
they had gone to swell the force at Kordofan and the real enemy confined
itself to the Arabian domains in the province. The west stations were
strongly fortified. Several of the unimportant ones had been abandoned,
but Amadi, a strong frontier fortress and the bulwark of Lado, was
surrounded by ramparts and had a large garrison. It could resist the
onrush of the enemy possibly until the rainy season, but after that help
must come from Khartoum.

Meanwhile the days slipped quietly by without bringing any decisive
result, good or bad. Emin had grown gray from anxiety. He would not
surrender his province to the enemy at any cost, but was it in his power
to drive back the Mahdists when they came by hundreds of thousands? On
the other hand, there were all his faithful ones, his negroes, who loved
him like a father, exposed to an uncertain fate. He resolved to do
everything possible to hold the government of this beautiful country,
though he knew not whether there was still a government.

The governor concealed his anxieties and doubts from his officials so as
not to dishearten them and determined upon an undertaking which should
divert the thoughts of the people from the uncertain future. He decided
to strengthen the defences of Lado and with the help of the soldiers and
natives to dig a deep moat around the station and utilize the dirt
thrown out as trenches. The work was directed by Mahmoud Effendi, an
Egyptian officer, who had served in the last Russo-Turkish war and was a
very skilful engineer. Hundreds of men worked from morning until night
and by the end of October the moat was extended to the river. The Nile
was then at its high stage and the water flowed into this new canal, in
which later draw wells were made for watering. At the main entrance to
the station, from the west, a passageway was left. Dr. Junker advised
the construction of a small drawbridge at that point and Mahmoud Effendi
supervised and constructed it very skilfully, notwithstanding his scanty
material. Emin and Dr. Junker in turn daily supervised the work, which
was now progressing satisfactorily. Some little pieces were played by
their trumpeter for the encouragement of the soldiers and Emin Pasha
himself often enjoyed it among his sugar canes and lemon trees.

In the meantime there was a lack of the most necessary things. They
lived principally upon the red durra, a species of millet, which had a
bitter and unpleasant flavor. There was a certain amount of meat on
hand, far from sufficient, however, and in place of other drinks they
were supplied with a liquor made by themselves and served in such
abundance to the soldiers that it resulted in universal drunkenness. The
coffee was almost too bad to drink, being adulterated with mallow seeds.
Sugar had long given out and honey was used in its place. Emin had made
a valuable collection of ivory with which in Europe he could have
procured himself and his officials the choicest dainties and all
imaginable pleasures. There, however, it would purchase nothing and it
was unlikely that the valuable stuff could be taken to the coast and
made of any use.

Their clothing was in rags. Wool was spun by the negroes, but
unfortunately the material was lacking. Skins were tanned and used as
garments and they imitated a practice of the savages. They stripped the
bark from certain trees and by careful scraping it produced a pliant
stuff of a beautiful red or yellow color which hung from their shoulders
in picturesque folds. Their shoes were very neat, for a skilful negro
made them precisely like the European. Shoes were really indispensable
there as the roads are so rough that unshod feet are easily injured.

The Christmas festival drew near, but it brought no pleasure. Emin and
Junker sat together one evening. They had not a drop of wine. For a year
and a half they had had no news from the outside; not a word of
encouragement had reached them. Many a time they felt as if they should
never again meet with their own kind, as if they were spellbound in a
strange world among fierce savages and bloodthirsty men. Their simple
and often scanty dinners were marked by a ceremoniousness and an expense
in service which would seem amusing to an unprejudiced spectator. On New
Year’s Day, 1885, Dr. Junker put on a fine, light gray European dress,
saved over from better days, and came to wish the governor good luck.
The officials went to the divan to greet him and were received in order
according to their rank and served with sherbet, coffee, and cigarettes,
treasures set apart for this day’s pleasure which gave all the more
satisfaction as they had been so long deprived of them.

During all this time Emin Pasha never left Lado. Notwithstanding all his
anxiety his scientific activity remained unabated. He took observations
of the weather every morning and entered them in his diary. He paid a
skilful Arab, Gason Allah, for keeping up his collection of stuffed
birds. The Arab came early in the morning to receive his orders
concerning hunting expeditions and sometimes the region thereabouts was
traversed a week at a time to secure birds of different kinds. Emin
Pasha himself was too shortsighted for hunting; indeed he could hardly
recognize a person ten steps away. His warm interest in scientific
studies helped him pass away these lonesome hours.

Thus we see the genial man in the midst of the alarming dangers which
menaced him on all sides and the pressing cares which weighed him down,
sitting quietly like a true philosopher and statesman and attending to
his duties. Nothing can disturb his lofty thought, his proud calmness,
his unshaken self-composure. He presents the type of a man whose mighty
influence these uncultivated Arabs and negroes could not resist, and
which strengthened all in holding out against the danger encompassing
them on every side.

Chapter V
The Enemy Approaches

Thus patiently waiting, each daily duty was accomplished. Then came
alarming news from the north. Kerem Allah spread broadcast this
proclamation of the Mahdi written in the bombastic style of the Orient:

“In the name of God, the all merciful, all pitiful! Glory to God, our
gracious Lord and our prayers and submission to our master Mohammed
and his own.

“This from Mohammed, the Mahdi, Son of Abdallah, to his
representative, Kerem Allah, son of the Sheik Mohammed, upon whom may
God shine in His goodness and ever protect. Amen!

“Receive from me this greeting and the mercy and blessing of God. I
desire you to know that in accordance with the unfailing promises of
God and His unchanging goodness, the city of Khartoum was captured
with the help of the Living and Eternal on Monday, the ninth Rebi Ahir
of the current year, early in the morning. The soldiers of the
faithful stormed the entrenchments with faith in God, the Lord of the
world, and in a quarter of an hour or less the enemies of God fell
into their hands. They were destroyed to the very last one and their
defences also. Although they were strong they were shattered at the
first attack of the army of God and sought safety by rushing into the
villages, but our army followed them and slew them all with sword and
lance. The others who had closed their doors in their fright were
taken prisoners and killed and only a few of the women and children
were spared. But Gordon, the enemy of God, whom we have often
admonished and warned to desist and surrender to God, has never
consented since he was a rebel and leader before. So he met his fate,
reaping what he had sowed, and God sent him to the place of His wrath,
and thus the house of the unjust was destroyed, thanks be to God, Lord
of the world, who chastises those who deserve it with fire and rewards
the just with a home in Paradise. God protect thee from the faithless,
Amen, with the sanction of the Highest and Greatest, the Sender of
good. Only ten of our own followers died the death of faith in this
victory and no others were injured. This is the mercy of God and from
him is the victory for which we give Him thanks. And do the same and
take my greeting.

Kerem Allah

Representative of the Mahdi in Bahr-el-Ghazal and Hat-el-Estiva

January 28, 1885

[Illustration: _A SERIOUS ACCIDENT TO EMIN_]

Upon the heels of these dreadful tidings came the news that Amadi had
fallen. Singularly enough this lesser calamity made more impression than
the terrible event at Khartoum, for the connection with Egypt was now
forever broken and all hope of help from the north vanished. But as
false reports had come from Kerem Allah so frequently they simply did
not believe it, but regarded it rather as an invention intended to
induce Emin to surrender. Great differences of opinion existed as to the
measures to be adopted. Some were in favor of retreating northward, but
Emin regarded the road to the south as the only right one. The force of
Kerem Allah was only five miles distant and in one day they could reach
Lado and then there would no longer be room for hope.

Captain Casati, an Italian traveller, who was in Lado at this time, as
it was too hot at Bahr-el-Ghazal, vigorously opposed Emin’s decision. “I
know that the danger is imminent,” he said, “but that is no reason why
we should fly.”

“But what else can we do?”

“Defend ourselves. Lado cannot fall in a short time. The enemy cannot
long maintain a siege with many people, for the country is destitute of
subsistence. He must buy corn at Makraka and that is a long way off.”

“But they are already well provided. The Arabs supply them with
everything they need, and we here in Lado, even if we are not overcome
by arms, will perish from hunger.”

“That cannot be possible. We have the river behind us. We can get corn
from the fertile country of Gondokoro.”

“Yes, but if we go southward we will find corn in the country of the
Mahdi, and if we get through to Lut it will be easy for us to establish
communication with Unjoro and Uganda.”

“My dear Doctor, do you not think the retreat will be even more
difficult and dangerous than the defence?”

“How? What have we to fear?”

“Kerem Allah, you say, is marching victoriously against Lado. Before he
succeeds he will find out what direction we are taking for our retreat.
He will follow us, not by way of the river, but by a shorter route
across the country. Imagine yourself attacked from the heights and cut
off from the river and tell me then if there will not be a catastrophe.”

“What would you do? What do you think?”

“Leave the country by the northeast. But to do this the retreat must be
made cautiously and quietly. I am not speaking of the soldiers. Alarmed
by the fall of Amadi, they will not resist a retreat. And if we take a
northward route, they will be more confident and follow.”

“And do you think that such a plan, if I submit it to my officers, will
be accepted?”

“Without doubt. They will depend upon the assurances of their master as
usual and give their full consent.”

In the morning after this conversation Emin held a council in the divan
at which all the officers and officials were present. The decision was
left to them whether they should go north or south. “To the south,” was
the universal answer. Possibly they had the feeling that Emin favored
that direction.

Casati was very indignant, but Emin was right. Going to the north
through a country subject to the Mahdi, with distant Egypt as their
terminus, while Khartoum lay in ashes, was going to certain death.
Certainly if the governor had acted without the consent of his people,
they would have believed the senseless report that he would sell them as
slaves in Unjoro and there make his escape to the coast alone. Emin’s
black soldiers were not accustomed to yield absolute obedience. From
time to time their opposition had to be overcome by the lash, and who
can say that they might not finally have made a successful resistance
when they found themselves leaving their homes and wandering about in
unknown regions? In the meantime Emin went south with his whole force,
officials, wives, and children, and piles of baggage to establish
himself at his residence in Madelai. No Mahdist disturbed the expedition
nor did they hear of pursuit or any attempt to cut them off. Casati had
taken too gloomy a view of the situation.

In Madelai they heard nothing of the fearful hordes of Kerem Allah. The
people gladly turned to farm labor and the looms were at work again.
Emin resumed his scientific pursuits and had it not been for his utter
seclusion from the world and his lack of ammunition which had been
nearly exhausted in subduing the savages in his vicinity, he and his
people, who were absolutely loyal to him, might have been glad to remain
to the end of their lives in this lost nook of the world. It was
imperative, however, to secure the possibility of return, and on this
account Casati was sent to King Kabrega at Unjoro, whom Emin had
previously known and who had given him many proofs of his friendship.

Chapter VI
Casati’s Adventure

On the second of June, 1886, Casati had a public audience with King
Kabrega. The monarch wore an elegant cloak of wonderful fineness and a
red head-covering in the Arab style. He sat in a great armchair with his
“exalted” feet resting upon a beautiful leopard skin. His colossal
figure, which was above the ordinary height, an expressive countenance,
rather overbearing than friendly, and his very ready tongue and studied
movements made a pleasant impression upon everyone who met him for the
first time. His first-born son sat at his left, upon a stool, the others
standing. His leaders were camped in a circle about the cabins, sitting,
Arab fashion, upon the ground covered with green papyrus. Behind the
king there hung a silk drapery of Indian handiwork, brought from
Zanzibar, and behind this drapery from time to time children’s faces,
full of curiosity, peeped out. Six youths of the most distinguished
families, with weapons in their hands, stood around the throne. Casati
sat at the right of the king, a few steps distant, and presented the
message of the governor.

Emin requested a free and open way for the transmission of his letters
to the coast, free passage of soldiers and officials to Egypt, and
lastly the privilege of securing produce from the merchants of Unjoro
and the sending of a representative to Madelai. The king seemingly
assented to all the propositions, but Casati quickly observed that a
hostile faction ruled him and that his good intentions might not be
carried out. The passage of the post was permitted, but letters coming
from the coast had to be submitted to certain conditions. Troops were
also allowed free passage, but only in single detachments and a limited
number at a time, which made it easy to attack and destroy them. Kabrega
agreed to send a representative to Madelai and was generous in words and
promises for his “doctor friend,” as he called the governor. The second
audience took place on the tenth of October, 1886.

“The governor,” said Casati, “begs permission to establish two military
stations on the lake” (Albert Lake).

“And what are you going to do at the lake?”

“The soldiers at the northern stations are in daily danger of attack by
the rebels at Khartoum.”

“So, you intend to take possession of my territory?”

“On the contrary, our stay will be short. At a favorable opportunity we
will withdraw and you will not only be ruler of Schuli and Lut, but will
have the warehouses which are well supplied with ivory, iron, and brass.
The two Egyptian steamers in a short time will enable you to compare in
resources with Waganda. But why do no brokers come here? It seems
impossible that Mackay [a business friend in Zanzibar], after all the
promises he has made us, should not be interested in our favor.”

“The Wagandans have placed obstacles in the brokers’ way. But have the
Arabs never delivered letters or newspapers to you?”

“No, we should not venture to avail ourselves of their services without
your permission. But we are not concerned about the Arabs leaving us,
for the moment we have the royal word that is sufficient security for
us.”

“Yes, you can depend upon me. I am Emin Pasha’s friend.”

“Then will you grant what I have asked?”

“This very moment I grant what my friend asks. Establish your stations
on the lake. I will issue orders to my chiefs to furnish corn to the
soldiers who are stationed there.”

“I pray you for another favor.”

“Speak. I am ready to grant whatever you wish.”

“Biri [an Arab trader] left the coast for here two months ago and is
detained by your people on the frontier. Issue an order for them to let
him come.”

“And how do you know Biri is there?”

“I know it.”

“Who told you about it?”

“No one.”

“It cannot be possible.”

“Oh yes, very possible. Listen to me. When Dr. Junker left [Junker went
to Zanzibar when all hope of going to the northern route vanished] he
promised the governor to send necessary supplies by Biri. It is not only
possible, but certain, that he must be here.”

“Biri is sent to make trouble in my kingdom. He shall not set foot in
it.”

“You are wrong. He must come. We are here in consequence of your express
assurances. We expect that they will be carried out.”

“It is my people who do not wish Biri to come here. I cannot oppose
them. It is for my interest to keep their good-will.”

“It is the evil Abd Rahmann [one of Kabrega’s ministers] who is ruining
your country with his pernicious influence.”

“I am the king. I command and do not need instruction from anyone as to
my duties.”

“I well understand the truth hurts you, but you cannot prevent it being
told to you. Emin Pasha wishes Biri to come. If you do not obey, he will
feel compelled to resort to other means.”

“And what?”

“He will write to Said Bargash of the Egyptian government. What will you
say then?”

“By what route can he send letters if I close mine?”

“By a hundred ways, for there are as many. He first applied to you
because he regarded you as a friend and not because necessity forced him
to.”

“It is not possible that Emin would have thought of this if you had not
made the suggestion. This plan for my disadvantage originated with you.”

“It is an honest man who is speaking to you. If I had been dishonest I
would have overwhelmed you with compliments to secure your favor and
attention.”

“Biri shall come in the morning.”

“Good! I thank you.”

Biri came and Emin awaited him with his steamer. His joy was great, for
the supplies were urgently needed. He went back with a handsome quantity
of ivory to be used in exchange and left hope in all hearts for the
future. But things went far differently in Unjoro. The old minister
Katagora, Emin’s stanch friend, died suddenly and, as was openly
declared, by poison. On the morning of his death the king declared that
from now on he would rule with the small and no longer be influenced by
the great, and the dying minister suddenly heard at the door of the
palace a crowd of boys shouting, “He’s dying now.”

It was only his inordinate eagerness for ivory and weapons that induced
Kabrega’s apparent friendship. His hostile feelings began daily to
reveal themselves. Merchants were strictly forbidden to sell their wares
to Emin’s people. One Abu Bekr, who brought supplies for the government
from Uganda, was set upon, robbed, and driven across the borders. The
natives were forbidden to sell corn and other produce to Casati. The
ivory sent to the king as compensation for allowing Biri’s caravan to
pass through the country was sent back.

“The horns of my cows,” said Kabrega, who was very proud of his herds,
to Casati, “are longer than the elephant tusks you have sent me. I don’t
know what to do with them.”

“I am sorry,” replied Casati, “that the king disturbs our good relations
upon such empty pretences. So far as the ivory is concerned, I will hold
it subject to his orders.”

The whole of the next year was occupied in diplomatic efforts to secure
the good-will of Kabrega, but he had learned that Emin’s strength was
not so very great and Casati, who would not forsake his post or do
anything to diminish the importance of the governor, was treated
disrespectfully. On the third of January, a messenger came from the
south with the news that Europeans with a well-armed force, in Zanzibar
dress, had arrived there. “God be thanked for his help in time of need.”
But Casati was rejoicing too soon, for the arrival of the strangers
exposed him to new dangers.

The report of this invasion by armed Europeans of course reached Kabrega
and aroused all his suspicions. Had he not already conjectured that Emin
would construct those stations on the lake because he had designs upon
his country? All his promises to withdraw from the stations some day and
leave him with great riches were nothing but empty deceit! Now help was
coming from the south, a strong army with European guns, that would
attack his country on two sides, capture Unjoro and settle down there as
white men had often treated other negro races. But this treacherous
messenger who had deceived him all the time and kept him to suspense
should pay the penalty. Casati knew his danger, but he faced it bravely.
On the ninth of January, 1888, the Vizier Guakamatera invited him to
come and see him. Casati went with Biri, who was there at the time, and
his faithful companions, to the house of the great dignitary. What was
their astonishment as they came in sight of it to find it surrounded by
a large armed force! Biri whispered, “Let us go back.”

“It is useless. We must go forward and hasten our steps,” said Casati.

At the foot of an ancient tree, which was majestic in the abundance of
its foliage as well as in its height, sat the high priest with the minor
magicians around him. He wore a splendid turban of red stuff, decorated
with glass pearls and shells, and from his temples projected two ox
horns upon which hung little wooden talismans. In his left hand he held
a great horn filled with a magic powder and in his right the conjuring
staff. He wore a white cloak of oxhide fastened to his left shoulder and
sat upon a small stool in a serious manner befitting his high dignity.

The palace door opened, trumpets sounded, and the vizier appeared,
surrounded by soldiers. The troops scattered about the place, savage,
naked figures with rattling iron rings fastened to their feet and hands,
and arranged themselves in a close circle a little distance away. They
were armed with guns, spears, shields, bows and arrows, fully a thousand
strong. A mysterious frigid silence, which denoted an extraordinary
event, pervaded the assemblage. All eyes were fixed upon Guakamatera,
whose colossal figure towered above those around him. “This is
treachery,” whispered Casati in Biri’s ear. “May God help us! All hope
is useless. We must show courage.”

Perhaps ten minutes passed after the coming of the vizier. Suddenly he
raised his right arm. The signal was given. The air was filled with
savage cries. The savages rushed upon their victims, seized them and
bound them to trees hand and foot, so tightly that they could not move.

Guakamatera approached Casati. “I am going by command of my king to your
lodging. I know that you have an armed force there, which has come
secretly and gradually from Wadelai, and with which you have intended to
get possession of the country. Woe to them if they make the least
resistance. They shall be killed at once.”

“Under the conditions in which you have placed me by the order of your
king,” replied Casati, “I cannot be answerable for anything that may
happen when you reach my house. In the meantime I advise you to take my
companion with you. He can carry instructions from me and they will be
faithfully obeyed.”

“Good! Give him the instructions.”

“The government’s soldiers shall lay down their arms, and my companion
shall obey at once what Guakamatera orders. No one shall oppose him or
protest.”

The vizier left, accompanied by his troops, leaving three hundred behind
to guard the prisoners. Casati’s house was searched. All the collections
to which he had devoted a lifetime, as well as Biri’s goods, were
carried away and the servants were made prisoners. Naturally their
treatment was no milder than that to which their master was subjected.
The vizier returned about five in the afternoon, the prisoners having
stood tightly bound during his absence, without a drop of water to
quench their thirst and exposed to the maltreatment and insults of the
brutal guards. He had put on finer attire and seated himself in the
great judges’ chair, while his warriors gathered about him to receive
instructions.

“These men,” he said, pointing to the prisoners, “have called the
Wagandans into the country [a pure invention]. Your women and children
have been carried off, your houses burned, your property stolen, and
your harvest destroyed. The king will visit justice for their crimes and
relies upon my arms for revenge.” A dismal howl full of menace broke
out. “Gobia, gobia” [“traitors, traitors”].

Casati and Biri were unbound and removed to the place of justice and
were surrounded by a new force of warriors. Casati entered the circle
and met his servants. He seemed to them like one risen from the dead.
The sight of their beloved master filled them all with new hopes. The
place where they found themselves was ominous. The great wooden drums
were covered with the blood of victims. They must make an attempt at
flight.

“There is no place except this thicket of thorns which is not beset by
warriors,” said one of his men, an active, nimble fellow who had been
making observations.

“Good! We will throw ourselves on all fours and make a rush through it.”

No sooner said than done. They got through the thicket and kept on their
way, but soon encountered a reserve of the negroes. It was impossible to
defend themselves, so they left the road and escaped by the aid of the
tall grass. Their flight that day was beset by dangers. Whenever they
ventured out of the woods to buy sweet potatoes or beans with glass
beads, the negroes would drive them off with threats. King Kabrega’s
direful orders followed them everywhere. Fortunately, however, they
found a friend in this wilderness. A young Dinka woman, who had escaped
the brutality of an Egyptian official by Emin Pasha’s interference,
brought them by night a great dish of beans and the comforting assurance
that Emin would be on the lake, January eleventh, with two steamers.
This aroused fresh hope that, in spite of their wounded feet and aching
limbs, of hunger and thirst, they would reach the shores of the lake.
Their armed pursuers were near them. They climbed hills through thorns
and bushes, falling and getting up again, in anxious silence. Their
pursuers had surrounded them and the bushes crackled about them. They
reached the top of a hill and heard excited discussions going on around
them, loud, threatening voices, and excited rushing about, and soon a
sudden, hasty, headlong flight.

“What has happened?” Casati’s servant, who was a little ahead, came back
trembling with joy. “The steamer, the steamer!” he shouted, running down
from the summit. Help in time of need, and it was high time. The
exhausted men could hardly stand and they were still a long way from the
lake. The sun was setting and it was too late to attract the notice of
the crew. A long dreary night was passed upon the shore of the lake
without food and enveloped in a dense cold mist.

The next morning a large cloth was fastened to a pole for a signal.
About nine o’clock a cloud of smoke appeared upon the horizon. Anxious
moments followed. Would the rescuers see them? Thank God! the outline of
the steamer grew ever larger and it was approaching steadily and
swiftly. The poor fugitives waved their flag, a shrieking whistle
answered, replied to by loud cheers. A boat with the rescued ones on
board, Emin Pasha, and several officers and officials had come to fetch
them, more out of pity than with any prospect of success. All were
speechless with joy over the unexpected rescue.

Chapter VII
In Need of Help

During this time Emin’s circumstances had taken a turn for the better.
He had received letters through Biri from the coast. A regular postal
service was established and his dreary isolation was at an end. He also
learned that Dr. Fischer, the experienced explorer, had undertaken an
expedition for his rescue in 1886, but only got as far as the Victoria
Nyanza, for the Wagandans would not allow him to go further. He returned
to Germany and died shortly afterwards in consequence of his hardships.
Next Emin received an official despatch in French from Cairo, from the
Egyptian government, informing him that it was not impossible they might
have to evacuate the Soudan. In case this occurred, Emin was given full
permission to leave the Equatorial Provinces and for this purpose he was
authorized to draw upon the English Consul General at Zanzibar. Emin was
bitterly incensed at the cold business tone of the government. It had
not a word of thanks or of recognition of all his cares, troubles, and
struggles for three years, not a word of regret that he was compelled to
labor so many years without any support, and often hungry and in need.
And not a word of encouragement for the task imposed upon him of taking
the Egyptians home. An empty title, that of Pasha, was all the reward
for his exertions.

They fancied in Egypt that all Emin needed to do was to pack up his
effects and go by the coast to Zanzibar. It never occurred to them that
the greatest obstacle in Emin’s way was his own Egyptian officers and
soldiers. While at Khartoum he had repeatedly notified the government
that it ought to change garrisons every two years, but it had never made
any reply. The larger part of his people, who had never left the
country, wanted to stay at home and live as their ancestors had lived.
For the Egyptians the Equatorial Provinces had become a second home and
more of a Paradise than they had ever found in their native land. They
had married and founded families, they had bought or stolen slaves, they
had cattle and goats. As they could not have these things in Egypt, why
should they leave such a country? Gordon had to meet the same
difficulties when he undertook the evacuation of the entire Soudan. He
too knew that such a problem could not be solved.

Emin’s subordinates had very little confidence in the Egyptian
government, for they had been without pay or provisions for a year.
Again, the people could not understand why the government intended
giving up the whole of the Soudan. No one had the most distant idea that
the Mahdi’s troops could stand against the Egyptian army. Not a person
in the Equatorial Provinces believed the reports of previous defeat or
the destruction of Hicks Pasha’s army. So the efforts of Emin to
concentrate his entire strength in the Soudan were fruitless. His
officers had no intention of leaving Lado. Unfortunately the despatch
referring to evacuation was in French. Its genuineness was not only
doubted, but it was regarded as an invention of Emin’s. With the
intention of going southward and thence to the east coast, Emin sent
messengers to Lado to prepare his people for their departure. A letter
informed him that in consequence of his orders revolt was spreading and
no one would go to the south. If they were forced to go, they would
seize all the weapons and supplies and kill all who opposed them.

Signs of this revolt were speedily apparent. In the middle of March,
1886, the old subordinate officers and the people of Bornu, Adamana, and
other places united in a plot to kill the officers at Lado as well as
the Soudanese and found a free state. An Egyptian officer heard of it
and reported it to his superior, who placed the leaders in chains, but
some days later let them go unpunished—a mistaken clemency for such a
time. In Dufile a sergeant fired at his officer, but missed him.

During this time of uneasiness Emin undertook three journeys to the
Albert Nyanza and discovered a large river flowing from the south, the
one called Semliki by Stanley, and the last of the hitherto unknown Nile
branches. For political reasons Emin devoted his entire attention to
that region which appeared to him the one which they had selected for
the retreat. Thereupon he proceeded with repairs on his two steamers.

By the middle of April, 1887, twelve stations were in Emin’s possession,
nearly all of them those which Gordon had intrusted to him in his time.
In a letter to Dr. Felkir he writes: “We sow, harvest, spin, and live
every day as if it were to continue forever. It is curious how one long
shut away from the world develops his vegetative faculties. I shall not
leave my people. We have had hard and troublous days together and I
should consider it shameful to desert my post. We have known each other
for long years and I do not believe that my successor could gain their
confidence.”

He is now preparing to leave the country with his people, but not until
a relief expedition reaches him. That such an expedition is on the way
he knows of a certainty. His European friends have communicated to him
their intention of helping him to carry out his plans.

Chapter VIII
Stanley Comes to the Relief of Emin

The scanty news from the heart of Africa relating to this heroic man,
forsaken by all the world, doing his duty and remaining at his post
undisturbed by any thought of danger or death, and deserted by the
government he represented, aroused interest and increasing sympathy in
Europe. In England especially it was regarded as a duty to help Emin,
thereby making some reparation for the dilatory policy which had
sacrificed Gordon, and with him the whole Soudan. Emin’s letter to Dr.
Felkir was published in the London _Times_, in the autumn of 1886, and
led to the organization of an Emin Pasha Relief Committee, under the
presidency of Sir William MacKinnon. This committee quickly raised a
large sum for the fitting out of a great expedition under command of
Henry Morton Stanley, the founder of the Congo Free State and African
expert.

Stanley came at once from America and secured all the necessary
supplies, weapons, and articles for barter in such quantities that Emin
could hardly have long contained himself had he possessed them. Nine
Europeans, at the cost of much self-sacrifice, accompanied the
expedition as officers. Among them was Dr. Parke, a noble friend of
humanity, who had acquired great fame by alleviating the fearful
sufferings of travellers and saving many lives. The next step was the
selection of a route and Stanley chose one along the Congo and across
the equator, a hitherto untraversed region. He had a special reason for
selecting this route. He was anxious to complete his earlier discoveries
and the possibility of going across Africa with such a large and finely
equipped expedition might not occur again, for he had over six hundred
carriers besides soldiers with him and he feared that these people might
desert him and go back to the east coast if he went by way of Zanzibar.
As they were situated, they had to follow him if they wished to get home
again, for flight would only take them to unknown regions where death
certainly awaited them.

Losing very little time, Stanley went to Egypt and secured from the
Khedive an official letter to Emin and then went on to Zanzibar to get
the necessary people. He was especially fortunate in securing Tippoo
Tib, a leading trader and investor in Central Africa, and a near
neighbor of the Congo Free State. Stanley feared if he did not attach
this man to his service, who had almost princely power, the Arabs in the
interior might play havoc with his expedition. His preparations gave him
more trouble than he had expected. When he reached the mouth of the
Congo and found the vessels which the King of Belgium had placed at his
disposal, they were all unfit for use. It was only with the greatest
exertions that three of them were put in tolerable condition. They had
hardly gone a mile when the screw of the steamer _Peace_ gave out. Then
the steamer _Stanley_ got out of order and there was no end to his
troubles and disappointments. The situation, however, was not very
serious so long as they were sailing up the river and ever and again
passing stations belonging to the Congo Free State. At last, however,
they must leave the river and travel on foot through an unknown
wilderness.

Owing to the unfitness of the steamers, the larger part of the baggage
had been left behind and was to be brought through the forests by Tippoo
Tib’s carriers. Stanley was eager to advance, for the last he heard from
Emin was the words, “If Stanley does not come soon, we shall be lost.”
He therefore decided to go ahead with the best of his men, leaving a
rearguard at Jambuja under Major Bartelot. The major was assigned the
unenviable duty of awaiting the arrival of the baggage and carriers with
two hundred sick and crippled men on his hands, and then follow Stanley
by routes which would be marked out for him. Greatly to his consolation,
Lieutenant Jameson was left with him. Jephson and Dr. Parke were with
the advance. Many hands were busied with preparations for departure and
then the horn gave the signal for advance. Stanley took the lead, with
Lieutenant Nelson in the rear, to prevent straggling.

“Which way is it, guide?” asked Stanley of a tall naked man with a
magnificent helmet, such as the Greeks used to wear.

“This way, which leads to the sunset,” he replied.

“How many miles is it to the next village?”

“God only knows,” was the answer.

“Is there no village or country in any direction?”

“Not one that I know of.”

This was all known by the most knowing one in the expedition.

“Now then, forward in God’s name. May God be with us! Keep to the course
along the river until we find a road.”

“Bismillah!” shouted the carriers. The trumpets of the Nubians blew the
signal “forward,” and shortly after this the head of the column
disappeared in the dense thickets on the outer limits of the forests of
Jambuja.

This was on the twenty-eighth of June, 1887, and until the fifth of
December, one hundred and sixty days, the expedition traversed woods and
thickets without seeing a bit of grassland. For miles nothing could be
seen but forests of trees of various ages and heights, with more or less
thick underbrush. For the first time a hitherto unknown region was
exposed to the gaze of civilized man.

The march was entirely conjectural, as it led through a hitherto
untrodden and pathless wilderness and in some places it dragged along
like a funeral procession. Its difficulties were increased by frequent
rainstorms, which in that region are like a deluge. They are also
accompanied by violent winds, which shake the countless branches so that
they drench man and beast with an additional downpour and rage as if
they would tear the trees up by the roots. Their fear was still further
increased by terrible peals of thunder reverberating through the forest
and the lightning flashes hurtling through the air and sometimes taking
the form of exploding bolts.

It was a great relief when the sick and injured were at last delivered
from this elemental strife which Stanley said was more dreadful than a
European battle. His men seemed to be almost paralyzed by fear,
suffering, sickness, loss of friends, hunger, rain, thunder, and general
wretchedness. They sought shelter under banana trees, shields of the
natives, woollen covers, straw mats, earthen and copper pots, saddles,
tent covers, each one enveloped in a blue mist and completely overcome
by speechless terror. The poor donkeys, with ears thrown back, closed
eyes, and drooping heads, and the caged fowl, with their bedraggled
feathers, added to the general wretchedness of appearance. Hunger,
sickness, and wounds from the thorns in the woods disabled many. They
were also exposed to the poisoned arrows of lurking savages. One or
another of the carriers would disappear, taking his valuable pack with
him. Each day some were prostrated by exhaustion, never to rise again.
It was almost unendurable misery, and yet the cry was “forward,
forward.”

During the days that were free from rain, an unnatural darkness
prevailed in the forest. The travellers now encountered slippery tree
trunks, bridging over dangerous abysses, which threatened to pierce them
with the sharp points of their projecting dead branches as they rushed
down hillsides upon them. Upon one of these they had to cross a rushing
stream, balancing themselves upon its slippery surface. Anon they
plunged into a thicket, where they were nearly suffocated by the myriads
of tangled vines and bushes that coiled about them. Soon they came to a
morass whose dangerous depths were concealed by floating plants and
scum. At every step their difficulties so increased that Stanley at last
declared they had done enough for the day and would pitch camp.

Stanley was moved with compassion as he looked upon his naked followers.
Their usual ebony colored skin had changed to an ashen gray and their
bones protruded so that it was a wonder how such skeletons had strength
enough to go any farther. And yet he had no mercy. He forced them to go
on by harsh measures, lest the expedition should prove a failure. And
besides, he who remained behind was inevitably a dead man. The soil was
full of decaying vegetation, the atmosphere was hot and close and filled
with exhalations from myriads of decaying insects, leaves, plants,
twigs, and stalks. At every step the head or neck, arms or legs were
held fast by tough vines, thorns of bushes, poisonous ivies or monstrous
thistles, which tore them as they sought to extricate themselves.
Countless kinds of insects increased their troubles, particularly the
black ants, which dropped upon them from the trees as they were passing
under them. Their sting is more painful than that of the wasp or the red
ant. They traverse the roads in armies, and plants and trees swarm with
them. When November came, the expedition had been reduced one half in
number and only two hundred men emerged from the darkness of the woods
into clear daylight.

In Stanley’s account of this journey he only speaks of these small pests
and is thankful that the larger animals of the African plains avoided
the forests. But this is not always the case, for the wilderness abounds
with elephants, buffaloes, panthers, leopards, jackals, antelopes, and
gazelles. There are hippopotami and snakes in the rivers, innumerable
birds in the trees, and the woods are full of monkeys of various kinds,
and yet none of them came in sight of the expedition. The same was true
of the natives. They often found clearings in which bananas and pisangs
were planted and near by the forsaken cabins of the savages who fled
from the approach of strangers. And yet it is not correct to say that
there were no human beings in the forests. Behind every tree an enemy
was lurking and their poisoned arrows often found victims. Stanley
maintains that these savages of the forest are much more dangerous than
the negroes of the open country. It is only remarkable that amidst the
manifold dangers to which they were exposed, they escaped a conflict
which might have been fatal to them.

The terrors of the forest at last disappeared. On the thirtieth of
November the expedition reached a broad, well-kept road which led to the
summit of a sightly hill. Lights could be seen. The people crowded about
the slope and their questioning glances seemed to say before they could
express their gratitude in words: “Is it true? Are we not deceived? Is
it possible that we are at the end of those forest horrors?” They at
last were convinced and a few minutes later gazed with admiration and
astonishment at the picture before them.

Longingly they stretched out their arms to the beautiful country. All
looked up with grateful hearts to the clear, blue sky and watched the
setting of the sun as if enchanted. Then they turned and gazed at the
dark forest they had just left, stretching away limitlessly to the west,
and shook their fists at it. They were overcome by their sudden joy.
They denounced it for its cruelty to them and their friends and compared
it to hell. They mourned the death of hundreds of their companions and
cursed it for its cruelty. But the great forest, stretching out like a
continent, lying silently like some great animal, veiled in a blue mist,
made no reply, but remained in its everlasting solitude, as unmerciful
and cruel as ever.

Chapter IX
The Meeting at the Lake

As we already know, Emin was aware of Stanley’s approach from the south
of the lake and sailed in that direction. But as he found no trace of
the expedition there, he sent a messenger to the locality where he must
come, requesting Stanley to remain where the messenger found him and he
would meet him there. Stanley had still many dangers to meet after he
and his people left the forest, and had several encounters with the
hostile dwellers near the lake, besides being short of supplies and
food. But the day came at last when the Albert Lake was at their feet,
far stretching as a world sea.

On the twenty-ninth of April, 1888, Stanley observed a dark object upon
the lake too large to be the canoe of a native and soon a cloud of smoke
was visible. It must be Emin Pasha’s steamer! Messengers were sent to
the shore and about eight in the evening Emin, accompanied by
enthusiastic demonstrations and firing, advanced to the camp, in company
with Captain Casati. At last the great event, looked forward to with
such anticipation and for which so many sacrifices had been made, was
realized. Emin and Stanley were together. Both had accomplished an
unusual thing, the one by patient labor, and brave endurance, in an
almost untenable position; the other by his energy and invincible
determination to bring help where help was so urgently needed.

[Illustration: _FIRST MEETING OF STANLEY AND EMIN PASHA_]

Emin in his usual quiet manner said in excellent English: “I owe you a
thousand thanks, Mr. Stanley, and I really do not know how to express
them.”

“Ah! you are Emin Pasha! Don’t mention thanks, but come in and sit down.
It is so dark out here that we cannot see one another.”

They entered the tent, which was illuminated by a wax light. Stanley
beheld with astonishment (as he said afterwards) a man whom he might
have taken for a professor of law as he sat there in his clean, nicely
fitting snow-white attire. His face showed no trace of illness or
anxiety, but bespoke good physical condition and a peaceful mind.
Captain Casati, on the other hand, looked old, haggard, and worn with
care. The two men occupied the greater part of the hours in conversation
about the events of Stanley’s journey, European affairs, occurrences in
the Equatorial Provinces, as well as personal matters. Stanley was
surprised at Emin’s intimate knowledge of European events, which he had
gathered from a few old newspapers that had found their way to him. The
close of the joyous meeting was celebrated with a bottle of champagne
Stanley had brought with him through the wilderness.

On the next morning Stanley went with his Zanzibarites to the steamer
where they were welcomed with music by the Pasha’s Soudanese, who stood
in parade order on the shore. By the side of these stalwart figures
Stanley’s lean and exhausted people seemed pitiful. Emin supplied the
expedition as well as he could with shoes, garments, tobacco, salt,
honey, corn and grain, which had been sent to him from Europe. They were
exchanging rôles. A disagreeable dark shadow obscured the joy which
should have been complete.

With absolute confidence in his lucky star, Stanley started the question
about the return home in accordance with the request of the Khedive of
Egypt. Emin stated his position as well as that of the majority of his
officials. But the Soudanese already regarded with mistrusting hearts
this expedition which had been so loudly praised by the governor and
which they had looked upon as the source of their safety. Of what value
were thirty chests of Remington cartridges? That was all that had been
brought for Emin. They cared nothing for the situation in the Equatorial
Provinces. Emin deeply felt the painful impression which the description
of the wretchedness suffered and the difficulties in the way must make
upon his people. He repeatedly urged Stanley to show himself to his
people and to visit the adjacent provinces that could be reached by
steamer. Stanley, however, declined, for he must depart at once to look
after Major Bartelot and the reserve. An agreement was made that all
those Soudanese and Egyptians who wished to return to Egypt should come
together at Nssabe on the Albert Nyanza to await Stanley’s return with
the rest of his people and the supplies left in Jambuja. Knowing the
sure and unavoidable danger accompanying Stanley’s journey through the
forest, they would take their way eastward to Zanzibar via Karagwe and
Usukuma.

To lighten the work of preparation for departure and to compensate for
his refusal to show himself in the provinces, Stanley granted Emin’s
request that an officer of the expedition might go back with him.
Jephson was selected for this by no means easy position, and a letter
was given him to the Khedive and his minister which read: “I am sending
you one of my officers with instructions to read this to you. I am going
back to bring my people and goods and settle upon the Nyanza. In a few
months I shall be here again to listen to what you may purpose. If you
say ‘We go to Egypt’ I will take them by a safe route. If you say ‘We
will not leave the country,’ then I shall say farewell to you and go
back with my own to Egypt.”

Stanley made two other propositions. In case he and his people decided
not to go back to Egypt he (Stanley) would go with him and his people to
the northeastern corner of Victoria Lake, establish a residence there
and a chain of stations to Mombasa—a plan which would certainly be
frustrated by the hostility of the natives. At last Stanley offered to
incorporate the Equatorial Provinces with the Congo Free State, provided
an unbroken union could be secured to the west coast. The fate which
attended the rescue expedition was sufficiently eloquent to spare a
reply to either proposition. So Stanley took his way back through the
gloomy forest and left Emin making preparations for his departure.

Chapter X
The Mutiny

Hardly had Emin departed for Lado, to take the troops there to the lake,
when a certain Soliman Aga, a Nubian and former slave and a man of low
condition, openly threw off the mask and summoned soldiers and officials
to meet him. At this meeting he urged resistance, at the same time
making the meanest accusations against the Christians. He sent
messengers to Faliko, Msua, Wadelai, and urged them to unite in order to
avert the calamity which the Pasha was about to visit upon the province.
All were certain that they were to be taken to the south to be sold into
slavery. The discontented natives replied secretly and quickly to the
insurrectionary call and from the frequent comings and goings of
messengers and their unusual intercourse with clerks and officials,
Casati, who remained in the south, quickly came to a conclusion. Aga
issued his commands absolutely and despotically. Woe to him who ventured
to question them! Reason and justice, reflection and freedom had no
influence. The soldiers shuddered at his unjust and cruel treatment. The
Danagla trembled for their very existence. The stations were silent and
abandoned. The powerful figure of the despot confronted them at the
gates, often in furious anger and sometimes in a condition of excessive
drunkenness, which made him still more terrible. In the nighttime
furious beating of the great drums, shrill tones of fifes and discharges
of musketry explained the business upon which the leader and his friends
were engaged.

When Emin issued his order to move the war material in the magazine at
Dufile, southward, the soldiers unanimously resisted. Mistrust seized
them. They saw they were no longer free of will, but would be driven by
force and that they and their families would be exposed to the mercy of
the natives and outside enemies. On the thirteenth of August (1888) the
troops at Lahore were mustered upon the plaza of the village. Jephson,
accompanied by Emin and various officers, read the letter of Stanley
which the governor himself had translated into Arabic and invited the
soldiers to express their intentions. An unusual murmur and a scarcely
repressed disquiet were manifest, but no one among them ventured to say
a word. Then suddenly a soldier stepped out from the ranks with his gun
upon his arm. He advanced and, turning to the governor, said they were
ready to withdraw and had fixed the corn harvest for the time. Jephson
asked for a written promise which he could send to Stanley. Then the
soldier became presumptuous and replied that this was not the way for
the government’s soldiers to be treated. This order was deceitful, for
the Khedive had commanded, not expressed, his wish. He had ordered the
rescue of all, not their submission to autocratic power.

Indignant at the soldier’s audacity, Emin stepped up to him, seized him
by the neck, and ordered him to be disarmed and imprisoned. The soldiers
to a man broke ranks and gathered together in threatening groups,
pointing their guns at the governor, who had drawn his sabre to compel
obedience. Quick action by the officers alone prevented an outbreak. The
troops withdrew to keep guard at the arsenal, but refused their regular
night service at the governor’s residence. On the nineteenth of August,
Emin and Jephson entered the station at Dufile by the northern gate. The
way into the village was forsaken. Not a single person met them and it
was as silent everywhere as the grave. As they reached their house their
entrance was prevented by a picket of soldiers on guard. The governor
was taken prisoner, but Jephson in his capacity of guest was not
included in their hostile designs. A new government was set up in
Wadelai which was to secure justice for all!

Dreadful news followed. In October, three steamers for Khartoum appeared
before Redjaf. The armed Mahdists, who came in them, attacked and
captured the station after a brief resistance. Three clerks and three
officers, who heroically defended the entrance to the fort, were slain.
A horrible massacre of men, women, and children ensued. No one was
spared. Other assaults by the Mahdists followed and all were successful.
The mutineers were panic-stricken, for they knew not how to withstand
the advancing enemy. Casati availed himself of the situation by
persuading the men who had usurped the government that it was necessary
to remove the governor from the vicinity of the enemy’s operations.

On the morning of the seventeenth of November Emin was sent under
military escort and with the salute of cannon to the steamer which was
to take him to Wadelai. There was a little creature on board who had
suffered terrible anxiety for many long weeks. It was Ferida, Emin’s
poor little child. She was so young that she could hardly comprehend her
father’s situation. She only knew that something dreadful might happen.
Captain Casati had so successfully used his influence that she was kept
at his house during Emin’s imprisonment. Her father had often been away
on journeys, but here it was very different. There was something
terrible in the air. Almost every day she besought Casati to take her to
her father and when her wish was not granted, she would ask a hundred
times if any harm had happened to him. Now the terrible time seemed to
her like a long, wretched dream. With sparkling eyes she clung to her
“good little father” and was so delighted that she sang and danced about
the deck.

When the steamer arrived at Wadelai, the people crowded to the shore and
expressed their joy in loud and enthusiastic shouts. It was like the
triumph of a conqueror. The magistrates in white clothes overwhelmed him
with expressions of devotion and hand kissing. Honored by the troops,
greeted with the thunder of artillery, and overcome with surprise at the
cordiality of his welcome, Emin made his way to his residence where he
received the congratulations of the officers. They were a faint-hearted,
fickle people, however, and if the rebel government had been introduced
in the morning, they would have welcomed it with the same enthusiasm.

Chapter XI
The Tragedy at Jambuja

While Emin was thus daily exposed to the danger of death, either at the
hands of the Mahdists or his own people, the relief expedition was also
near destruction more than once. It seems almost incredible that Stanley
should have taken the same route through the dreadful forest in which he
had wandered for six months, at the cost of losing half his people. When
he left half of his force with six hundred carriers in Jambuja, on the
banks of the Aruwimi, under command of Major Bartelot, it was with the
expectation that Tippoo Tib, the famous Arab merchant, would speedily
furnish transportation and enable them to reach the Albert Nyanza. But
Stanley had been out of the forest for months and not one of Major
Bartelot’s men had appeared. A year had passed since he left them and
now he asked himself the question, “Why do they not come? Have they
suffered some calamity, perhaps sickness, revolt of the people, or
destruction by the natives? Perhaps they have all perished, and these
two hundred and seventy-nine men and the supplies of every kind promised
to Emin are all gone.” These questions tormented the leader and no
satisfactory answer came to quiet him. After leaving the sick and
incapacitated in Fort Bado, under the care of Dr. Parke, he plunged
again into that dark, gloomy forest, that cruel wilderness, from which
his people had but just escaped.

At last, on the seventeenth of August (1888) the expedition, after
finding several canoes on the river, came to a great bend of the Aruwimi
at Benalja and observed upon the opposite bank a village with a strong
enclosure. White costumes were visible, and looking through the field
glass Stanley saw a red flag, upon which was a white crescent and star,
the Egyptian symbols. Stanley sprang to his feet shouting, “The major,
boys! Row faster!” Loud cries and hurrahs followed and the canoes shot
swiftly ahead. When within hearing distance he called to some men upon
the shore: “What people are you?”

“We are Stanley’s people.”

They rowed ashore and Stanley sprang out and addressed a European
officer:

“Well, Bonney, how are you? Where is the major?”

“The major is dead, sir.”

“Dead! Good God! How did he die? Of fever?”

“No, sir, he was shot.”

“By whom?”

“By the Manjema, the bearers whom Tippoo Tib sent us.”

“How are our people?”

“More than half of them are dead.”

Stanley was speechless. He mechanically gave orders for the landing of
his men and then followed Bonney to the camp in order to learn the
complete details of the tragedy. Human beings worn with sickness, mere
skeletons, crawled past and gave him welcome with their hollow
voices—welcome to a churchyard!

One hundred graves in Jambuja, thirty-three men left in camp to perish,
ten bodies on the way, forty persons in Banalja who had a feeble hold
upon life, twenty deserters and sixty left in a moderate condition. How
did such a loss happen? Bonney explained. Stanley had left the major in
Jambuja fourteen months ago with instructions to await the arrival of
those six hundred carriers which Tippoo Tib had promised should
accompany them to the Albert Nyanza. Eight times the major made the
journey to Stanley Falls to remind Tippoo Tib of his promise. The greedy
Arab took advantage of the necessities of the expedition to raise the
price of his service and a year elapsed—a year of frightful, murderous
desolation in that unhealthy camp at Jambuja. At last some of the
bearers came, but they were of the Manjema tribe, a savage cannibal
people, not inclined to obey the orders of whites. They finally left
Jambuja, that yawning grave, and reached Banalja, where Bartelot was
killed. Bonney’s diary describes the event.

“On the nineteenth of July (1888) a Manjema woman began beating the drum
and singing. That is their daily practice. The major sent a boy to her
and ordered her to stop, whereupon loud, angry voices were heard as well
as two shots which were fired in defiance. The major sprang from his bed
and taking his revolver said, ‘I will kill the first one I find
shooting.’ I implored him not to mind their daily practice, but to stay
where he was, as it would soon be over. He went, revolver in hand, where
the Soudanese were. They told him they could not find the men who fired
the shots. The major then went to the woman who was drumming and singing
and ordered her to stop. At that instant Sanga, husband of the woman,
fired a shot through an aperture in an adjoining hut, the ball piercing
him directly below the region of the heart, coming out through his back
and penetrating a part of the veranda below, while he fell to the earth
dead.”

The camp was at once in the greatest excitement. It looked as if all,
soldiers and carriers, Zanzibarites, Soudanese, and Manjema might start
at once in every direction taking with them the luggage and arms. It
required all Lieutenant Bonney’s energy to stop the plundering and force
them back to duty, and it was only accomplished by the adoption of harsh
measures. The major’s body was buried and his murderer was sentenced to
be shot. Then came Stanley and now it was hoped everything would go
well.

Stanley was a man of extraordinary energy, who never indulged in
outbursts of emotions, but he was wellnigh discouraged when he heard
this mournful story and realized the troubles of the expedition which he
had hoped to find in excellent condition. But he looked forward with
confidence and fortunately his own strong men were loud in praise of the
beautiful region on the Nyanza, where there was plenty of meat and bread
and beer and where the poor starved people at Banalja would soon recover
their strength.

Chapter XII
Again in the Dark Forest

After a short rest, the third march through the gloomy forest began.
There were dangers in plenty and the whole caravan came near starving.
Notwithstanding all Stanley’s efforts, it was not possible to save his
men from their folly. Everyone was instructed, as soon as a banana grove
was reached, to provide himself with food enough for several days, but
these great thoughtless boys would throw away their food when it became
burdensome, and thus many began to suffer for lack of sustenance, which
might have been avoided by a little care.

On the eighth of December, while pitching camp, Stanley noticed a boy
staggering with weakness. When asked what was the trouble he said that
he was hungry. He had thrown away five days’ rations hoping to find more
food that day. Upon further inquiry he found that at least one hundred
and fifty had followed his example and had had nothing to eat that day.
The next morning Stanley sent all his effective men, two hundred in
number, back to the last banana grove, expecting that they would return
in two days loaded with supplies of the fruit. The small supply of meal
was soon consumed and Stanley opened his European provision chest. Each
one of the one hundred and thirty men was given a morsel of butter and
condensed milk which was mixed with water in a kind of thin soup. At
last they searched in the forest for berries and mushrooms.

From day to day their anxiety increased and they moved about more slowly
and feebly. Nothing was heard or seen of the expedition which had been
sent out. Five days had passed already. Perhaps they were lost in the
forest or had succumbed to hunger before they reached the banana trees.
If so, all in the camp were doomed. In this unknown corner of the forest
every trace of them would disappear. The graves would remain hidden
forever, while the Pasha himself would spend month after month wondering
what had become of the relief expedition.

At last, on the sixth day, Stanley decided to set out with a small
number of his people in search of food, leaving Bonney to care for the
sick and exhausted. He left a scant stock of provisions for them, but
there was no other way to save them. Sixty-five men and women and twelve
boys went with him. They marched until evening and then threw themselves
upon the ground to rest. No fire was kindled as they had nothing to
cook. Few of them slept. Frau Sorge (“mistress anxiety”) occupied the
camp and filled their minds with visions of suffering, despair, and
death.

When the darkness began to disappear and light fell upon the
outstretched groups, Stanley, mustering up courage, shouted: “Up, lads,
up! To the bananas! Up! If God so wills, we will have bananas to-day.”

In a few minutes the camping place was deserted and the weary ones were
once more on their way, some limping because of their hurts, some
hobbling because of sores, and others stumbling because of weakness. At
last Stanley heard a murmuring sound and suddenly saw a great abundance
of green fruit. In a trice all weakness and every trace of despair
disappeared. English and Africans, Christians and heathen, each in his
own language, shouted “God be praised.” Fire was quickly kindled, the
green fruit was cooked, and an enjoyable meal gave them strength for
their return. In an hour they were on their way back to the camp of
hunger, which they reached at half past two in the afternoon. They were
given a welcome such as only the dying can give when their rescue is
sure. Then all, young and old, forgot the troubles of the past in the
joy of the present and agreed to be more careful in future—until the
next time.

Chapter XIII
Fresh Troubles

At last Fort Bodo was reached and there fortunately Stanley found all
well and hoped that troubles were at an end. In the eight months of his
absence he expected that Emin Pasha would certainly be ready to take his
departure, and that the united company could enter upon its journey to
the coast without delay. He impatiently waited daily news from the
Pasha, for he must certainly be in camp by the lake with his people in
the neighborhood of the storehouse which he had engaged to erect. At
last a messenger came from Kavalli and Stanley learned what we have
already learned. The news occasioned him bitter disappointment and a
feeling of dread. The letter read:

Dufile, 6. 11. 88

Dear Sir,—I have been held a prisoner here since August. We knew as
soon as the Mahdists arrived and captured the station of Redjaf that
we should be attacked one day or another, and there seemed to be
little hope that we should escape. Jephson, who has been of great
assistance to me in all my difficulties, will inform you what has been
done here and will also give you valuable advice in case you decide to
come here as the people wish. Should you come, you will greatly oblige
me if you will take measures for the safety of my little girl, for I
am very anxious about her. Should you, on the other hand, decide not
to come, then I can only wish you a safe and happy return home. I beg
you to convey to your officers and men my hearty thanks and my most
cordial gratitude to all those in England by whose generosity the
expedition was sent out.

Believe me, dear sir,
Your most devoted,
Dr. Emin

Thus Emin was in the power of his barbarous inferiors, who, if they felt
so disposed, could end his life any moment. But the province was in
danger of being overrun by the swarms of Mahdists, and in that case
there would be no alternative for man, woman, or child, but death or
slavery. The efforts of the relief expedition had been wasted for a
year, a very hell of torment had been endured, and hundreds of lives had
been sacrificed, only at last to hasten the doom of Emin, for there is
no doubt that the arrival of Stanley with his tattered, hungry people
kindled the torch of revolt. The people of the Equatorial Provinces
would not leave their country and exchange its comfort for poverty and
wretchedness, and deaf to every protest of reason imprisoned their
governor, who they believed would take them to strange countries, sell
them as slaves, and forsake them. Fortunately Jephson reached the camp
and Stanley learned from his own mouth what had transpired. He described
the dissensions and insubordination of the Soudanese officers which made
it impossible to organize any defence against the enemy approaching from
the north.

Stanley was indignant at the condition of affairs. “As they will not go
they can stay and perish. But how can we save the Pasha?”

“The Pasha would come to us if there were nothing to hinder,” said
Jephson, “but he will not be rescued alone. These people have deceived
him, imprisoned him, and treated him shamefully, and yet he will not be
induced to forsake them when it means their certain destruction.”

“That is bad,” said Stanley. “We shall have to carry him off by force.”

The situation was a doubtful one. Stanley could not wait any longer at
his camp on the shore of the lake, for he was in a country destitute of
supplies and he was constantly exposed to danger from the hostile people
in his vicinity. At last he succeeded in getting Emin with some of his
most faithful officers to come to the camp and after endless
discussions, deliberations, and protests, the tenth of April, 1889, was
fixed upon for the march to the coast. Those of the Soudanese who would
not join them within two months must take the consequences. Emin gave up
with a sad heart. Over and over he declared he could not leave his
people. The indifferent manner with which Stanley imposed his will
grieved the man whom the negroes rightly designated as “father and
mother of their country.” At last he had to yield. Of all his people
only six hundred were in camp at the right time and saved from the
dreadful cruelty of the Mahdi.

Chapter XIV
The March to Zanzibar

On the tenth of April, 1889, the horn gave the signal to prepare for
departure. Stanley kept his word. The caravan was arranged in marching
order and at seven o’clock moved away, while behind them a dense black
cloud of smoke and crackling flames from the burning camp said farewell
to them.

Their course took them over a range of grassy, treeless hills, whose
monotony was dispelled by valleys with groups of palms. Farmers and
shepherds occupied the region and millet, sweet potatoes, and bananas
were cultivated. The march was very regular when one considers that the
most of the people were unaccustomed to efforts of this kind and that
there was a considerable number of children and women and old
broken-down men. Stanley rode at the head of the expedition followed by
the Zanzibarites and Manjema bearers. Emin led his own people and
hardened veterans brought up the rear, who urged on the laggards and
relentlessly drove them along. Ferida rode continually by the side of
her tender father. He now began to rejoice for her sake that they were
going to a safe and peaceful country, where his little daughter could be
educated and properly brought up.

Emin thought with a sad heart of those left behind and there was much to
trouble him on the journey, for his servants and soldiers were so
thoroughly convinced that they would be abandoned at Wadelai that when
they pitched their camp that night at Niamgabe, sixty-nine of them
eluded the vigilance of the sentinels and escaped. So sure were they
that they would be attacked by the natives on the road that the most
stringent measures were adopted to prevent further desertions.
Unfortunately Stanley was taken seriously ill at this time, and they had
to remain at Niamgabe nearly a month, until by the efforts of Emin and
Dr. Parke, he recovered. It became difficult, therefore, to procure
provisions at that place and still more difficult to maintain order in
the great expedition.

Early on the eighth of May they moved forward again and Emin found much
consolation in turning his attention to scientific matters. He
discovered new and unknown species of plants and insects which he
investigated and added to his collections and soon made the greatest
discovery of all. For the first time he had an opportunity to make a
close observation of a great mountain phenomenon, which had been seen
from a distance by Casati and by Stanley on the first expedition, but
which was now thoroughly investigated for the first time. This was the
snow mountain Ruwenzori (Cloud King), as the natives called it,
according to Stanley, separating the Albert Nyanza from the Albert
Edward Lake. Its mighty glaciers and copious rainstorms fed the Semliki,
a great tributary of the Nile, thus solving the question of the sources
of this tributary which had so long been obscure. The spectacle of this
snow mountain below the equator in a world of heat and sunshine is a
magnificent one. Deep, dark valleys lie along its base. Beautiful trees,
shrubs, and ferns bedeck its slopes, with timber below and the flowers
of the Alpine world, while its lofty summit and glaciers belong to the
region of eternal snow. In company with Lieutenant Stairs and forty men
Emin undertook the ascent of the mountain, but did not get far because
of deep intersecting valleys and the lack of food and proper clothing
for the higher region.

At the south end of Victoria Lake they turned southward and there took
an easterly direction. On the seventeenth of October the French
missionaries, Fathers Girault and Schynse, joined them. On the tenth of
November the bearers shouted: “To-day we shall come to Mpapua,” and
about noon from an eminence they beheld a station with a German flag
waving. Lieutenant Rochus Schmidt welcomed them to German territory and
accompanied them with his soldiers to the coast. They soon exchanged the
sight of the parched and thorny wilderness for a land fragrant with
lilies and clad in spring greenery. The Makata plain, with its green
grass and its numerous groups of villages, was ample compensation for
the four months of wretchedness and hardship they had endured.

[Illustration: _THE SNOW MOUNTAIN_]

Shortly after this messengers from Major Wissmann, governor of German
East Africa at Bagamojo, met them with ample supplies. As the travellers
were pursuing their way by moonlight on the third of December they heard
the report of a cannon. It was the evening gun at Zanzibar. The
Zanzibarites gave a joyous shout, for it told them that their long
journey across the continent was at an end. The Egyptians and their
attendants also joined in the shout, for they now knew that in the next
twenty-four hours they would see the ocean over which they would go
safely and comfortably to Egypt, their future home.

Chapter XV
Emin’s Misfortune

Major Wissmann went to the river Kingani to welcome the travellers,
taking saddled horses with him which Emin and Stanley mounted.
Accompanied by the major and Lieutenant Schmidt, they entered Bagamojo.
The streets were decorated with palm branches and crowded with the dusky
population extending good wishes to the approaching travellers. As they
came near the major’s headquarters at their left they beheld the expanse
of the Indian Ocean, a great, clear, blue, watery plain.

“Look, Pasha,” said Stanley, “we are at home.”

“Yes, thank God!” he replied. At the same instant the batteries fired a
salute, announcing to the war vessels lying at anchor that the governor
of the Equatorial Provinces had arrived in Bagamojo.

They dismounted at the door of the German officers’ mess and were
escorted to a veranda, decorated with palm branches and flags. Several
round tables stood there and an elegant breakfast was served to which
they did ample justice. The Pasha had never been in a happier mood than
he was that afternoon when, surrounded by his friends and countrymen, he
answered a thousand questions about the life he had led during his long
seclusion in the interior of Africa. About four o’clock the rest of the
expedition entered the city. The people were conducted to cabins near
the shore, and when the bearers threw down their burdens and the sick
men and women and tired children were provided for, all felt the
greatest relief and understood the significance of this arrival at the
seacoast. In the afternoon a banquet was given at which thirty-four
persons were present, including the German officers and physicians, the
commanders of the war vessels, various missionary fathers and Emin and
Stanley as the guests of honor.

Major Wissmann conducted his guests to a long dining-hall, below the
windows of which the Zanzibarites were celebrating the end of their
troubles by dancing and singing. The feast was an excellent one and was
seasoned with universal joyousness. Major Wissmann made a speech of
welcome to his countryman, “the meritorious and famous governor of the
Equatorial Provinces.” The Pasha replied in a manner that delighted the
whole company. He was particularly happy and genial and went from one
end of the table to the other greeting his friends, and then stepped out
upon the veranda. Suddenly Stanley’s valet whispered to him that the
Pasha had fallen from the veranda wall and was dangerously hurt. Owing
to his short-sightedness he had mistaken a window for a door, and
stepping out had plunged to the ground. All rushed out and found him
lying unconscious and near him a little pool of blood. Emin was taken to
the hospital and at first suffered great pain. As his recovery from the
fall would inevitably be slow, Stanley left on the sixth of December on
the _Somali_, escorted to Zanzibar by the whole flotilla—the English war
vessel _Tortoise_, the German vessels _Schwalbe_ and _Sperber_, and
Wissmann’s three steamers. He was received with great enthusiasm at
Zanzibar and was overwhelmed with honor later in England, while Emin lay
upon his sick bed in Bagamojo.

Chapter XVI
New Plans

Owing to the strenuous labors of the suffering victim for a year past
and the shock to his nerves, Emin’s recovery was slow. It was only due
to the watchful care of the German physicians, who firmly opposed his
removal, that the accident did not have worse consequences. Major
Wissmann, Lieutenant Schmidt, and all the German officers rendered most
valuable assistance, and when Emin had recovered sufficient strength to
get about again he felt as if he had returned home after a long journey.
This feeling first came to him when he saw the German flag waving from
the bastion of Mpapua, for the fatherland, as it were, had come to meet
him. Emin had not gone to Germany, but Germany had come to Africa. There
arose in his soul a longing to serve the fatherland in the foreign
world. He gave the matter serious thought, however, before coming to any
conclusion. First of all, he was an Egyptian subject, but the Khedive,
as he was aware, had little for him to do. He was a governor without a
province and in Alexandria or Cairo he would only spend a scanty pension
in idleness while still feeling young and active.

During the return march Stanley had repeatedly proposed to Emin that he
should enter the service of British East Africa. That company would
certainly have appreciated the service of such an experienced man, but
it did not altogether suit him. He would travel with Stanley to Egypt
and back to England to raise the necessary funds and associates in the
undertaking, but he was not altogether pleased with Stanley’s company.
He had been hurt several times by the stern and regardless action of the
American. Perhaps Emin was not entirely free from blame. His own
irresoluteness had often induced Stanley to adopt a very firm attitude,
but whatever their relations were, their continuance was no longer
desired by him.

It was Emin’s dearest wish to remain in German East Africa, where he had
been so cordially treated, and devote his service to the fatherland. To
one of his retiring nature the idea of exhibiting himself in Europe was
not attractive. He certainly would have received ovations everywhere. He
would have been wined and dined and honors would have been showered upon
him. But what did he care for them? His nature revolted against making
an exhibition of himself and of becoming a central figure in
celebrations. He would rather remain in Africa with his savages and
collect beetles and bird skins. His thirst for knowledge was not to be
appeased.

Chapter XVII
Ferida’s Departure

Thus it happened that Emin, hardly arisen from his bed of suffering, was
again contemplating a mission to the interior of that continent out of
which Stanley had but just conducted him with so much effort. But one
thing troubled him—his anxiety for his child. Ferida had been kept far
away from him during his illness and when she was brought back to him
her joy was unbounded.

“Oh papa,” she exclaimed, “now you are never going away from me again.
We shall always be together.” Such appeals were hard for the father to
bear after he had come to the decision to send her back to Europe. But
the thousand anxieties which he had felt for the little helpless being
in the wilderness were a lesson he could not for an instant forget. Now
that they were at the coast, there was an opportunity to send her to her
relatives in Germany without fear of danger. It would be wicked to take
her with him again into a strange land.

So there came a tearful leave-taking. How hard it was for the child to
obey the will of her father, although her old and trusty Arab nurse was
going with her. It seemed to the little one that her heart was breaking
and that she was going alone into a far-distant strange country. It was
a bitter task for Emin also to separate from his child. He stood upon
the shore and watched the steamer until all that he could see was a
little cloud of smoke on the horizon. Then he turned away and sighed
heavily. He had a presentiment that he might never see her again.

Poor little Ferida! What a sad journey for her. The Arab attendant, who
had been in Emin’s house so many long years and had been considered true
and devoted to the child, followed her own selfish designs. She schemed
to appropriate her money and for this purpose presented in Cairo the
papers, which proved her to be Emin’s daughter, for the purpose of
securing the eight years’ arrears of pay due Emin. Fortunately her trick
was prevented by the German ambassador, but he could not prevent the
vile woman from tattooing the helpless little creature’s body, naturally
a painful operation. These troubles passed, however. Ferida was placed
in a railway carriage, this time under careful oversight. She passed
through countries which seemed strange to her, especially when she found
that all the people were white.

At last came a day when a gracious lady folded the poor fatherless child
in her arms, and, caressing her a thousand times, called her her dear
little daughter. It was Emin’s sister, Fraulein Schnitzer, who took the
little one to Neisse and cared for her as a mother.

Chapter XVIII
Again in the heart of Africa

On the twenty-sixth of April, 1890, Emin left the coast in company with
Lieutenant Langheld and Dr. Stuhlmann, a young Hamburg scholar, who
assisted the Pasha in his scientific investigations. A hundred soldiers
and four hundred armed bearers were with the expedition, which was
directing its course for the great Victoria Nyanza. The object of the
expedition was kept absolutely secret and the preparations were made
very quietly so that the English should not frustrate the German plans.

The principal features of the plan for the journey were arranged by
Major Wissmann. The line of the northern frontier was fixed as extending
on the coast from Wanga to Kilima Ndschan, and across Victoria Nyanza
through Buddu to the north to the Albert Lake. North of this line the
English territory begins and an agreement bound the Germans not to cross
it. At the outset the march, so long as it led through the coast region,
was everywhere a difficult one, for the floods of the rainy season made
the roads almost impassable and the fording of the swollen streams was
dangerous to life. Shortly fever broke out, which is more dangerous in
the open country than in the woodier regions.

[Illustration: _MAJOR WISSMAN_]

On the nineteenth of June they met the expedition of Dr. Peters and Herr
von Piedemann, who had started the year previously for Uganda, to supply
Emin with munitions, but had been prevented from getting there by the
prevailing disorders. Great was their surprise at finding Emin, whom
they were seeking to rescue, leaving the coast fresh and active, with
the intention of penetrating the interior as far at least as he had been
before. Dr. Peters shared Emin’s opinion that the Germans should occupy
Tabora, but Major Wissmann had strictly forbidden this as he feared that
the undertaking was too great for Emin’s small force and a disaster
would injure German prestige among the Arabs. It seemed, however, as if
Emin were in the hands of destiny. He had issued his orders to march
directly to the Victoria Nyanza, but it was impossible for him to secure
the necessary number of porters. At last, as he succeeded in getting
eighty-six Waramboans who lived in the neighborhood of Tabora and were
going in that direction, he determined to go there. Everything went as
he wished. Arriving at Kigwa, he was met by a deputation of Arabs who
invited him to Tabora. They came from the Waramboans, whose chief had
been killed in a battle with the Wangomans, and who implored the help of
the Germans. They were on good terms with the colony. They had rendered
good service to Wissmann in his encounters with Arab revolters and
naturally believed they ought to have help in return.

So by dealing with them in a peaceful way, as well as by his familiarity
with their habits and his skill in handling them, he succeeded (August
1, 1890) in making an agreement with them, the principal points of which
were as follows: “All Arabs must subject themselves to the German
government, with all their relatives and possessions, and hoist the
German flag as a sign of their loyalty. They will be allowed to select
their own governor, who shall be approved by the German government and
be paid by it. The property rights of the Arabs and the practice of
their religion shall be recognized by it. The governor shall maintain
order and furnish German expeditions with supplies. Slave trading is
strictly forbidden.”

Thus Emin rendered great service to his government without loss of life
and at a nominal cost. Then came a message from the French missionaries
at the south end of Victoria Lake announcing threatening movements on
the part of the natives which obliged him to go there with his entire
forces. Arriving at Bussisi the danger seemed to be over, but the
missionaries directed his attention to the strong Arab colony of
Massansa, which was the headquarters of the slave trade. Peaceful
negotiations were useless. A battle was fought, the village was stormed
and rich spoils of ivory, arms, and slaves captured. Unfortunately four
Arabs who were taken and sent by Emin to the coast for trial were
murdered by the Wagandians as they were crossing the lake. That was a
fatal event for Emin. The Arabs, with whom he had had such friendly
relations, blamed Emin for the murder, claiming that he must have known
the Wagandians were the deadly enemies of the poor prisoners. They swore
eternal hatred and revenge, and they kept their oath only too well.

Emin finally decided to go to the west coast of the lake and establish a
strong German station for trading purposes. After mature consideration
he decided upon Bukoba, on the northern frontier, for the people there
were friendly and supplies were abundant. On the sixteenth of November
his force was at Bukoba, and aided by the natives Emin began the
building of the station. The rainy season was a great hindrance. Emin
not only succeeded, but was fortunate enough to earn the gratitude of
the natives, for just at this time the Wagandians made one of their
customary plundering raids and were punished by him.

At this time reports came from various quarters that the Maturki had
arrived north of the Albert Edward Lake. The thought immediately
occurred to him: “These are my people from the Equatorial Provinces. I
must see them.” All other plans, all disobedience, all open hostility,
all troubles were forgotten, for the Maturki had always been the
governor’s truest friends. It seemed to him at that moment that they
were dear children waiting for their father to take them home. All Dr.
Stuhlmann’s protests were useless. In addition to this Emin received a
message of disapproval from the coast, blaming him for his arbitrary
proceedings at Tabora, also stating that Wissmann was not pleased with
his going to the west shore when the south shore had been settled upon
as the field of operations. This mistaken view of his purposes was
unendurable to Emin, who for years had been guided entirely by his own
judgment in all his operations. He did not wish to return to the coast
until he had accomplished something important. As it was certain that
the Soudanese would never appear on the Albert Lake he determined to
carry out a scheme he had long planned in secret. He would go north,
gather his people, and take them to German territory, or, still better,
go west and crossing the continent make a union with Cameron.[7] A noble
plan indeed!

Chapter XIX
Again with the Soudanese

On the twelfth of May, 1891, Emin asked Dr. Stuhlmann whether he would
accompany him to unknown regions or return to the coast. The scheme
seemed so attractive that he declared he would not leave him and was all
the more easily persuaded as the Pasha could only spare him a few men
and Stuhlmann would have to traverse a highly insecure region almost
destitute of subsistence. So they went northwards. The journey was slow
and toilsome, for the packs were too heavy for the bearers and most of
the people had to do double duty all day.

Even yet Emin did not realize the difficulties. He was only occupied
with the thought that he would see his former subjects again, whom he
was forced by Stanley to leave. All this time the thought was uppermost
in his heart what would become of these poor badly managed people,
threatened north and south by fierce enemies and not united among
themselves? Surely some dreadful fate would overtake them. At last came
the day when the expedition actually entered the Soudan. It was hard for
Emin to hide his excitement behind that demeanor of dignity and
composure which he always maintained so as to keep the respect of his
people. We cannot but think how eagerly their former governor listened
to the story of matters in his province. It was sad enough!

A part of the Soudanese under the leadership of Selim Bey had followed
Stanley’s expedition, but as they did not overtake it they came back
full of resentment against those who had left them to their fate. But
their effort was not entirely unrewarded. One day a cow stumbled into a
gully and in getting her out they found a number of chests which Stanley
had deposited there, as he had not men enough to carry them, filled with
powder and cartridges. That was really a Godsend in time of need. It was
only the lack of munitions that made the situation of these poor people
so doubtful, for they daily feared attacks from the Mahdists, in which
case they would have been slaughtered like a defenceless herd. Now they
could maintain themselves in the five southern stations of the
Equatorial Provinces. The discord among themselves was so great that it
sometimes led to bloodshed. Several officers had usurped authority and
fought on opposite sides and some traitors had even gone over to the
Mahdists to induce them to enter the country. Want prevailed everywhere.
The herds of cattle had perished from a disease which at certain times
in Africa attacks these animals as well as giraffes and gazelles.
Provisions were dear and the people wore skins. There was no recognized
general authority. Officers as well as soldiers promoted themselves, and
sometimes so rapidly that, as at Kavalli, there were more officers than
soldiers.

Emin called his people together to make an agreement with them and the
same discouraging result was repeated which had so sorely tried
Stanley’s patience. One party was willing to go with the Pasha,
conditional, however, upon taking the nearest route to the coast. But,
as we know, Emin had projected bolder plans, in the development of which
he counted upon the help of the Soudanese. The usual delays occurred and
the evil-disposed circulated all kinds of senseless stories. They said
that the Khedive, enraged because Emin had left his soldiers in the
interior and set out for the coast alone, had driven him off and that he
was wandering about trying to find a habitation. Notwithstanding these
reports, he could not find it in his heart to leave the malicious
inventors of them in the lurch. He writes to his sister: “I am foolish
enough, in spite of everything, to keep my interest in these people.”
There were a few faithful souls whom he would save even as Abraham
appealed to his God: “Peradventure there shall lack five of the fifty
righteous, wilt thou destroy all the city [Sodom] for lack of five?”

After long delay twenty-nine men, one hundred and one women, and
eighty-one children decided to go with their former governor, though the
little band promised to be much more troublesome than useful to him. But
Emin was not discouraged at this turn of events. He made no complaints
and was only concerned that the people who had been assured of help
should not suffer.

Chapter XX
To the West

On the tenth of August, 1891, Emin went farther west, and considerably
farther north than Stanley had gone, in hopes of making a union with
Cameron. All were of good courage except Dr. Stuhlmann, who had grave
doubts, for Emin’s health was broken. The saddest feature was his
failing eyesight and the certainty that the day was not far distant when
he would be blind. The Pasha himself realized it and therefore kept
steadily forwards with the energy of desperation instead of going back
by a safer way.

“What is there behind me?” he would reply to Stuhlmann’s protests. “The
work to which I have devoted my life is in confusion and my activity in
the German service has not been appreciated. Of what use is life if one
does not accomplish something that is recognized as important?” These
few words give us a glimpse into his proud nature. His important
services had not been justly recognized. The Khedive had written him a
formal letter of thanks and invested him with an empty title: his own
subordinates had proved ungrateful; Stanley had so misjudged him that it
grieved him, and now he had been censured by the authorities of the
German colony. Notwithstanding all this, Emin now ventured one last
effort to secure the recognition of a world which had so obstinately
refused it.

In that forest whose terrors we already know from Stanley’s description
he wrote his last letter to his sister. It is with mournful interest
that we read the last utterances of a man who was so soon to be called
from the scene of his activities. The letter begins:

“It will sound strange, but it is the darkness of the forest alone
that has prevented me from writing. At our various camping places we
have had to cut down trees to find a place for our tents and then it
was so dark one could scarcely see to read. We have all the joys, but
at the same time all the discomforts of forest life in abundance. Our
joys are restricted to those pleasures which sublime nature furnishes
for everyone, while slime and water, slippery ascents and descents,
uprooted and fallen trees, myriads of ants and small stinging flies,
torment the men. Added to all this we have at times the pangs of
hunger, for wide stretches of territory are unpopulated and the
plundering Manjemas have left nothing edible in the country. If one
depends upon hunting he may soon starve, for the monkeys and gray
parrots rarely ever come in sight. The forest is a paradise for the
collector and my bird collection has many treasures. Frogs and insects
also are very numerous. There are also surprisingly beautiful
specimens of plants. If one could remain longer in a given place he
would find an abundance of new things. The villages of the forest
people lie mostly upon little elevations, forming wood islands, and
all inclosed by fences of felled trees, and scattered about are
plantations in which maize, beans, tobacco and bananas are raised. As
to animals I have not yet seen a goat, and meat is in such demand that
after skinning my birds they beg for the bodies. Dwarfs live in these
woods and we have been visited by them several times. They were all
hungry and begged for food, which we gave them sparingly.”

Their progress through the forest was more and more difficult as they
were without provisions. Every day one or more of their number deserted,
especially the Soudanese, whom Emin had induced with so much exertion to
accompany him. It was particularly hard for Emin, who was in the rear,
and the porters to urge on and encourage the sick and injured. There
followed rainstorms which made the roads in this hilly country still
more slippery. New terrors were added to the old ones. To prevent
thievery about their plantations the natives had filled the ground full
of sharp pointed pieces of cane, which pierced the feet of those
stepping upon them. Six of the porters were so badly injured in this way
that they could not carry their packs.

On the twenty-sixth of September, 1891, they approached the country of
Momsu. The natives saw them coming at some distance away, but did not
seem to be excited. Emin knew that he should soon reach the northern end
of the forest and that he could make his way westward without much
difficulty. All plucked up fresh courage, but on the next day the forest
road abruptly ended and all their efforts to find a new one were
useless. There was no other alternative but to go back to their camp of
the day before and from there not attempt to go forward. Hope seemed at
an end.

On the twenty-ninth of September Emin’s people held a conference with
him. They notified him that the greatest dissatisfaction prevailed, that
fifteen men had deserted, that the porters could not go any farther, and
that they could find nothing to eat. Emin explained to them that they
would soon come to a fertile country where there was an abundance of
food. He would send out fifty of his most vigorous men, who would
quickly return loaded with fruit and lead them safely to that blessed
country. They were satisfied and the men were sent. But alas, after
three days they returned empty-handed without even finding a beaten
path. Firmly and unanimously they decided to go south, whence they had
come. They were quiet and moderate, but no power on earth could have
induced them to take another step forwards.

Emin was forced to submit, but he was exceedingly unfortunate. Had he
only known that the Belgian station was not far away! Had his people
followed him a few days longer he would have undoubtedly reached his
goal, the west coast, and a splendid result would have crowned his
efforts. Now he had to go back, hungry and discouraged. For twelve days
his people lived upon banana roots and gourd leaves, which were almost
destitute of nourishing qualities. It was hard to carry their packs and
a fourth of the porters died on the way.

In this most disconsolate period Stuhlmann’s birthday anniversary
occurred and it is difficult to describe his emotions when on the
morning of the day Emin met him and presented him with a bottle of
champagne and a beautiful watch. In the midst of all his troubles he did
not forget to congratulate his affectionate friend. It seemed as if
misfortunes were never to leave the expedition. Suddenly one of the
porters was taken ill and showed very suspicious symptoms. He had been
feverish for several days and soon an eruption appeared all over his
body. It was the smallpox, hard as it was for Emin to admit it. If this
terrible pest should spread among his people the prospects of the
expedition would be forever blasted.

Chapter XXI
Emin’s Death

Camp was pitched in Undussuma to give the sick more careful attention
and the exhausted ones time to recuperate. A severe epidemic of smallpox
broke out there. Emin also had much to endure. His left eye was at last
entirely blinded and an injury to his knee, to which at first he paid no
attention, became inflamed, owing to the great dampness (it was the
rainy season) and caused him much pain. Besides this he suffered from
constant insomnia so that he grew very weak and could hardly move about.
He was confined to his tent day and night, the prey of gnawing
solicitude and racking his brain to find some reason for rescuing
something where there was nothing to rescue.

One morning the Pasha invited Stuhlmann for an interview. He stated to
him that a longer stay in that place would involve the death of all by
smallpox and that isolation was impossible. It was his duty to remove
the well ones at once. Stuhlmann must start homewards with them while he
would follow after with the sick when they recovered. Stuhlmann refused
to leave the Pasha, who was sick himself and in need of help, but Emin
threw all his authority into the scales. As his superior he must be
obeyed and he gave Stuhlmann a written order by which he could justify
himself before the world and to his own conscience. So they divided men,
weapons, munition, and supplies. Emin kept thirty-eight people, a part
of them women and children, while Stuhlmann led one hundred and
thirty-three to the coast and as a matter of fact saved them. On the
tenth of December, in the early morning, Stuhlmann departed with a sad
heart. “I hope,” said Emin, “to see you again in a month. If I am
overcome by force and cannot come, remember me to my child.” Only a
handshake, a last wave of the hand, and they parted, never to meet
again.

After Stuhlmann’s departure Emin’s health improved somewhat, but many of
the sick died. The natives had fled because of the pest and thus
supplies could not be procured and there was great suffering from
hunger. Dissatisfaction, drunkenness, and disorder prevailed and Emin
had to resort to the lash. The Soudanese were again the worst offenders.
In all his troubles Emin always found consolation in his scientific
observations, which he entered daily in his diary, notwithstanding his
impaired sight. As the sick were now recovering Emin began planning to
resume the journey and he succeeded in inducing Ismaili, an Arab, to
accompany him to the Congo and procure the necessary porters.

On the ninth of March, 1892, Emin left the camp, the scene of so many
sorrows, still trusting in his people, though he had been expressly
warned of their evil designs. But no choice was left him. Alone, he
could reach neither the east nor the west coast. Now at the mercy of a
hostile Arab, he was traversing that great region which had been visited
only by slave hunters, and the thought of his own weakness was a great
pain to him. How many years he had unweariedly fought these cruel
men-stealers, inspired at that time by the hope that Europe at last
would put an end to the infamous business. Now he looked out upon his
province, which under his administration had been a scene of peaceful
industry and of continually increasing prosperity, and heard only the
shrieks of victims in the silence of the night. The little that we know
of Emin’s fate is from his diary, which is brought down to the
twenty-second of October, upon which date he met his fate, as the result
of revenge for the four prisoners murdered by the Warambas, a crime of
which he was believed to be guilty. Emin suspected all. It looks as if
he did not try to escape from his fate. We read in his diary that the
Arab chief, Kinene, met him and took him to his house at Kasango. “He
wants to make sure of me,” writes Emin. He clearly saw through his
designs.

On the following morning Emin sat upon the beautiful veranda of his
false host’s house. Upon the table before him were spread out birds and
plants, the spoils of the last few days, which he had investigated and
whose characteristics he had noted down. Before him was a letter from
the powerful Kibonge, whose possessions were on the Congo, inviting him
in a friendly manner to visit him and promising him protection. Emin was
in a cheerful mood. Once more it seemed that the cup passed from him. On
the morrow he would leave, go to the Congo and thence safely to the
coast.

Kinene entered and said: “Pasha, as you are going away in the morning,
let your people go to the plantations and provide themselves with manioc
and bananas. I will give them to you for the many fine things you have
brought to me.” Emin looked up from his book and thanked him and then
sent for his people. Kinene said: “Let your people leave their guns here
on the veranda, for the women who work on the plantations would be
terrified if they saw men coming with guns.” The men, fifty in number,
did as he suggested and betook themselves to the plantations a mile
away.

When they were gone, Kinene spoke in a friendly way to Emin and
regretted his speedy departure. Ismaili and Mamba, a slave, stood behind
Emin’s chair and at a sign from the chief seized him by the arms. Emin
turned angrily and asked them what they meant. Then said Kinene: “Pasha,
you must die.”

“What do you mean?” said Emin. “Is this a sorry joke? How dare you
restrain me? What do you mean by saying I must die? Who are you, Kinene,
that you should dare to kill me?”

Kinene answered: “It is the will of Kibonge. I must obey him.”

Three persons stepped forward and held Emin securely as he tried to free
himself. When he saw that his efforts were useless, he said: “This is a
mistake. Here is a letter from Kibonge which promises me safe conduct.”

Kinene replied: “Pasha, if you can read Arabic, read this letter.”

And Emin read the second letter of the false Kibonge, which ordered him
to be killed. He gave a deep sigh, then frowned and said: “Well, you
will kill me, but do not think that I am the only white man in this
country. Many will come to avenge my death and believe me, in two years
there will not be a single Arab left in this region to tell the story of
the destruction of his people.”

Kinene remained unmoved and when Emin saw there was no hope of escape he
protested no longer and Ismaili, his treacherous guide, severed the head
of the defenseless one from his body.

Two years elapsed before definite news of Emin’s fate was received, and
as nothing was heard of him all that time, it was generally believed
that he had been killed by Arabs, and that the truth had been concealed.
At last Baron Dhanis, at the head of a Belgian expedition, came to the
vicinity of Kinene’s possessions. There by chance Emin’s trunk and diary
were found in a cabin, and the discovery led to the arrest of Ismaili
and three others, who had participated in the murder, and their
confession. The murderers were condemned to be hanged. A year later the
treacherous Kibonge was made to pay for his infamy, for he was taken
prisoner by a European expedition and put to death.

Thus Emin, the quiet, genial man, who never did an injury to anyone, but
conferred almost endless benefactions, died as he had lived—alone. The
serious, strenuous work of his life brought him little gratitude. He
lived to see the collapse of his great creation—the Equatorial
Provinces. But the one thing which was his consolation in all his hard
days and which was occupying him at the very hour of his death was his
devotion to science, which did not die with him, but has been and always
will be of great value to the world. The museums of Europe tell of the
activity of this collector, and scholars who have studied his diaries
are amazed at the richness of their contents. He will never die in the
memory of his own people or of the civilized world; his name is
indelibly engraved upon the tablets of history.

Footnotes

[1]Dr. Wilhelm Junker was born at Moscow in 1846 and died at St.
Petersburg in 1892. Between 1873 and 1886 he explored Algeria, Tunis,
Lower Egypt, and a considerable part of Central Africa.

[2]Lado is in Central Africa on the White Nile, near Gondokoro, and was
founded by General Gordon in 1874.

[3]The Bari are a negro race in the eastern Soudan, and are both
agricultural and pastoral.

[4]Termites are white ants which grow to a very large size in Africa.

[5]The native name of the sweet potato.

[6]The statements in the “Life of Gordon” in this series of “Life
Stories” are at variance with this. According to the former,
Lieutenant Wilson left Khartoum by steamer to urge haste upon General
Wolseley, who was coming to the rescue, but his vessel was wrecked
and he was murdered by natives. The steamers which came in sight of
Khartoum that morning and found it in possession of the Mahdi were
bringing a part of the rescuing force, but finding it was too late,
returned. As the German author’s statements in his “Life of Gordon”
are confirmed by Sir William Butler, in his well-known “Life,”
preference should be given to it.

[7]Verney L. Cameron was a distinguished Anglo-African explorer and the
first to cross Africa from east to west.

Appendix

The following is a chronological statement of the most important events
in the life of Emin Pasha:

1840 Birth of Emin Pasha.
1865 Visits Turkey and professes Islamism.
1876 Explored the Nile up to Lake Albert.
1878 Made Pasha and Governor of the Equatorial Provinces.
1883 Cut off by the Mahdi.
1889 Stanley’s relief expedition.
1890 Return to the lakes in German service.
1891 Rebellion of his carriers.
1892 Killed by Arabs.

LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE

_Translated from the German by_
GEORGE P. UPTON

44 Volumes Now Ready

_American Explorers_

Columbus
Francisco Pizarro
Cortes
Eric the Red and Leif the Lucky, and Other Pre-Columbian Discoverers
of America

_Historical and Biographical_

Washington
Franklin
Penn
Maximilian
Barbarossa
William of Orange
Maria Theresa
The Maid of Orleans
Frederick the Great
The Little Dauphin
Herman and Thusnelda
The Swiss Heroes
Marie Antoinette’s Youth
The Duke of Brittany
Louise, Queen of Prussia
The Youth of the Great Elector
Emperor William First
Elizabeth, Empress of Austria
Charlemagne
Prince Eugene
Eugénie, Empress of the French
Queen Maria Sophia of Naples
Emin Pasha
General (“Chinese”) Gordon
David Livingstone
Stanley’s Journey through the Dark Continent

_Musical Biography_

Beethoven
Mozart
Johann Sebastian Bach
Joseph Haydn

_Legendary_

Frithjof Saga
Gudrun
The Nibelungs
William Tell
Arnold of Winkelried
Undine
Ulysses of Ithaca
Achilles
Gods and Heroes
The Argonautic Expedition and the Labors of Hercules

Illustrated. Each 50 cents _net_
A. C. McCLURG & CO., Chicago

Transcriber’s Notes

--Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public
domain in the country of publication.

--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the
HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)

--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and
dialect unchanged.

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Emin Pasha - Life Stories for Young People" ***

Home