Sometimes,
But Very Rarely, They Returned With A Fowl; Such An Event Caused Great
Rejoicing.
We gave up all hope of Gondokoro, and were resigned to our fate.
This,
we felt sure, was to be buried in Chopi, the name of our village. I
wrote instructions in my journal, in case of death, and told my headman
to be sure to deliver my maps, observations, and papers to the English
Consul at Khartoum. This was my only care, as I feared that all my labor
might be lost should I die. I had no fear for my wife, as she was quite
as bad as I, and if one should die the other would certainly follow; in
fact, this had been agreed upon, lest she should fall into the hands of
Kamrasi at my death. We had struggled to win, and I thanked God that we
had won. If death were to be the price, at all events we were at the
goal, and we both looked upon death rather as a pleasure, as affording
REST. There would be no more suffering, no fever, no long journey before
us, that in our weak state was an infliction. The only wish was to lay
down the burden. Curious is the warfare between the animal instincts and
the mind! Death would have been a release that I would have courted; but
I should have liked that one "English beefsteak and pale ale" before I
died!
During our misery of constant fever and starvation at Shooa Moru, insult
had been added to injury.
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