Not a word was spoken, or even whispered.
My men were very bloodthirsty. They had been atrociously treated by the
natives, and had suffered much. They longed to get their enemies fairly
before them, and the "Forty Thieves" were now keenly looking out for the
approach of the wily Unyoros.
We heard distant voices; they were coming nearer. A sharp clicking of
locks might be heard, as the men got ready.
All Sadik was one of my best shots in "The Forty." I now saw him taking
a steady aim. Saat Choush, who was the champion shot of "The Forty", had
also raised his rifle, and almost immediately several shots were fired,
and the troops rushed forward! Two natives had been knocked over, and
some of the men returned, dragging in a body by the heels.
I now scoured the immediate neighbourhood, and discovered a quantity of
dhurra that was just ripened. This was immediately gathered as a great
prize.
During this interval, my men had been engaged in a most barbarous
ceremony, that perfectly disgusted me.
These superstitious people had an idea, that every bullet they might
fire would kill an Unyoro, if they could only devour a portion of their
enemy's liver.
They had accordingly cut out the liver of the dead man, and having
divided it among them, they positively HAD EATEN IT - raw! They had then
cut the body into pieces with their sword-bayonets, and had disposed
them upon the limbs of various bushes that overhung the path, as a
warning to any Unyoros who should attempt to follow us.
I would not have believed that my "Forty Thieves", whom I had considered
to be nearly civilized, could have committed such a barbarity. The truth
was, that in the high grass they could not see the effect of their
shots; therefore they imagined that the horrid rite of eating an enemy's
liver would give a fatal direction to a random bullet.
We marched, and having had several encounters with the enemy in jungle,
if possible worse than before, we halted at Kaseega.
One of my best men, Serroor, had a narrow escape; a lance went through
his neck, almost grazing the jugular vein.
On 19th June, we marched at 6.5 A.M. This was one of the worst journeys,
as the ravines were numerous, and the forest dark and tangled. It was
difficult for our solitary horse (Jamoos) to carry his load, as it
became continually hooked in the hanging loops of the wild vines. We
were quickly attacked by various ambuscades, in one of which my wife
suffered the loss of a great favourite. This was poor little Jarvah, who
went by the name of the "fat boy." Two spears struck the unhappy lad at
the same moment one of which pinned both his legs as though upon a spit;
the other went through his body. This loss completely upset my wife, as
the unfortunate Jarvah had upon several occasions endeavoured to protect
her from danger. He was killed only a few paces behind her.
In one of the ambuscades, just as the enemy had been repulsed, Faddul,
the strongest man in the "Forty Thieves", who was close to me, carrying
his knapsack on his back, his rifle slung across his shoulders, and a
box of 500 snider cartridges (64 lbs.) upon his head, walked up to me
during the halt and reported himself as badly wounded.
A spear had struck him obliquely in the posterior, and had taken a
direction towards the groin. The nian was literally bathed in blood,
which ran from him in such a stream that a large pool was formed at his
feet as he stood before me.
The instant that the box of snider ammunition was taken from his head,
he fell apparently lifeless to the ground.
I thought that he had bled to death.
His rifle and knapsack were removed, and I examined his pulse and heart!
I could not feel any movement. All I could do was to pour some brandy
very slowly down his throat, and to leave him on the side of the path as
another good man lost to the expedition.
We marched forward, and in about ten minutes we arrived at an open field
of sweet potatoes. The change from dark jungle and dense grasses of
giant height to the fresh and clear space cannot be understood, unless
by those who experienced the difficulties of the march.
I halted the advance-guard in the centre of the open field, and waited
for the rear to close up.
As it arrived, I saw a man staggering forward, supported by two
soldiers. Upon nearer approach, I recognized my strong friend, Faddul,
thus risen front the dead! The brandy had revived him sufficiently to
show some signs of life, and the rear-guard had thus brought him along
with them. We laid him down to rest beneath a tree that grew in the
middle of the cultivation.
We were now in a sad difficulty. There were numerous roads, or rather
very narrow paths, which converged from all quarters upon this potato
ground. No one knew the direction. The Baris were completely at fault.
The farther the people explored the immediate neighbourhood, the more
helpless they became.
This was a serious matter. Up to the present time we had been most
fortunate in keeping to the right path.
I now called my renowned pathfinder, Abdullah, of "The Forty".
Abdullah made a survey of the surrounding tracks, and then returned to
me with the news that he had discovered the route. This he immediately
pointed out.
A general exclamation of derision from the officers and many of the men
was the only reward Abdullah received for his important discovery, as
his path was in quite an opposite direction to the route they had
anticipated.
