CHAPTER XXV.
EMIN PASHA, GOVERNOR OF THE SOUDANESE PROVINCES.

Mr. Stanley’s return to America at the close of the Congo expedition, in 1886, was his first in thirteen years. But he was not to enjoy the rest which he had promised himself. His services were even then being called for, by the course events were shaping themselves in the Egyptian Soudan. Through the infamous action of the British Ministry, in abandoning Gordon and his followers to their fate in Central Africa, public opinion became thoroughly aroused to the necessity of sending an expedition to their relief. And to Stanley the eyes of the world at once turned as the man to lead it. To understand fully, however, the situation, it will be necessary to recount some of the history of Emin and his career in the Egyptian Soudan.

For a sketch of the early life of Emin Pasha we are indebted to Dr. Schweinfurth. He tells us that Emin’s right name is Edward Schnitzer, and that he was born in 1840 at Oppeln, in Silesia. His father, a merchant, died in 1845, and three years before that date the family removed to Neisse, where Emin’s mother and sister are still living. When Edward Schnitzer had passed through the gymnasium at Neisse he devoted himself to the study of medicine at the University of Breslau. During the years 1863 and 1864 he pursued his studies at the Berlin Academy. The desire for adventure and an exceptional taste for natural science induced the young medical student to seek a field for his calling abroad. He therefore, at the end of 1864, left Berlin with the intention of obtaining the post of physician in Turkey. Chance carried him to Antivari and then to Scutari. Here he soon managed to attract the attention of Valis Ismael Pasha Haggi, and was received into the following of that dignitary, who, in his official position, had to travel through the various provinces of the empire. When, in this way, Dr. Schnitzer had learned to know Armenians, Syrians, and Arabians, he finally reached Constantinople, where the Pasha died in 1873. In the summer of 1875 Dr. Schnitzer returned to his relations in Neisse; but after a few months the old passion for travel again came over him, and he betook himself to Egypt, where favorable prospects were opened out to him. With the beginning of the year 1876 he appears as “Dr. Emin Effendi,” enters the Egyptian service, and places himself at the disposal of the Governor-General of the Soudan. In the post there given him Dr. Emin met with Gordon, who two years before (1874) had been intrusted with the administration of the newly-created Equatorial province. Gordon was just the man to respect an Emin, and correctly estimate his gifts and capabilities. He sent him on tours of inspection through the territory and on repeated missions to King Mtesa at Uganda. When Gordon Pasha, two years later, became administrator of all territory lying outside the narrower limits of Egypt, Dr. Emin Effendi received the post of commander at Lado, together with the government of the Equatorial province. With how much fidelity and self-denial he devoted himself to his task is well known.

During the first three years of his term he drove out the slave-traders from a populous region of six million inhabitants. He converted a deficiency of revenues into a surplus. He conducted the government on the lines marked out by General Gordon, and was equally modest, disinterested, and conscientious. When the Mahdi’s rebellion broke out a governor-general of another stamp was at Khartoum. Emin’s warning from the remote south passed unheeded. Hick’s army, recruited from Arabi’s demoralized regiments, was massacred; the Egyptian garrisons throughout the Soudan were abandoned to their fate, atrocious campaigns of unnecessary bloodshed were fought on the seaboard, and General Gordon was sent to Khartoum to perish miserably while waiting for a relief expedition that crawled by slow stages up the Nile, and was too late to be of practical service. During all these years of stupid misgovernment and wasted blood Emin remained at his post. When the death of General Gordon and the retreat of Lord Wolseley’s army wiped out the last vestige of Egyptian rule in the regions of the upper Nile, the Equatorial provinces were cut off, neglected, and forgotten.

It then became impossible for Emin to communicate with the Egyptian Government, and he was practically lost to the rest of the world. He was dependent upon his own resources in a region encompassed by hostile tribes. He might easily have cut his way out to safety, by the way of the Congo or Zanzibar, with the best of his troops, leaving the women and children behind to their fate. But this he scorned to do. He stood at his post, and bravely upheld the standard of civilization in Africa. He had with him about four thousand troops at the outset. He organized auxiliary forces of native soldiers; he was constantly engaged in warfare with surrounding tribes; he garrisoned a dozen river stations lying long distances apart; his ammunition ran low, and he lacked the money needed for paying his small army. But, in the face of manifold difficulties and dangers, he maintained his position, governed the country well, and taught the natives how to raise cotton, rice, indigo, and coffee, and also how to weave cloth, and make shoes, candles, soap, and many articles of commerce. He vaccinated the natives by the thousand in order to stamp out small-pox; he opened the first hospital known in that quarter; he established a regular post-route with forty offices; he made important geographical discoveries in the basin of the Albert Lake; and in many ways demonstrated his capacity for governing barbarous races by the methods and standards of European civilization. The last European who visited him was Dr. Junker, the German traveller, who parted from him at Wadelai on January 1st, 1886. His position was then more favorable, but he had been reduced at one time to extremities, his soldiers having escaped by a desperate sortie, cutting their way through the enemy after they had been many days without food, and “when the last torn leather of the last boot had been eaten.” Letters written by him in October, 1886, at Wadelai, describing his geographical discoveries, were received in England in 1887, with a contributed article for a Scotch scientific journal. The provisions and ammunition sent to him by Dr. Junker had had a very encouraging effect upon his troops. He wrote: “I am still holding out here, and will not forsake my people.”

Emin kept a diary of his life and work, and, whenever opportunity offered, sent extracts from it in the form of letters to friends in Europe. From these a graphic idea may be formed of his unique career. In August, 1883, he wrote:

“It seems to me that when disturbances arise among a newly-subdued people it is chiefly to be attributed to wrong methods of action on the part of our people, who make exaggerated demands, forgetting that a newly-captured bird must first become accustomed to its cage. Intercourse with negroes and their treatment are not so difficult as often appears to inexperienced travellers, who know their mendacity, and, where they have the power, their extortion. It only requires inexhaustible patience and unruffled composure—virtues which are certainly not often acquired from the brandy-bottle. A sojourn of nearly eight years here has taught me that, with a little kind treatment, negroes are tolerably easy to govern. I have also certainly learnt that for Equatorial Africa temperance is a good habit....

“It is a beautiful characteristic of the Sandeh—the worst anthropophagi of our country—that they have the greatest affection for their wives and daughters, and would bear anything rather than their loss....

“From Gambari’s village, four days’ march brought me to Tingasi, our headquarters in Monbuttu, an hour’s march from Tangara’s residence. To this place visitors from all sides flocked in such numbers that I was often quite overwhelmed. From west and south came the chiefs with their trains—the Sandeh princes Bori, Kanna’s nephew; Mbiltima and Ikva, Uando’s sons; Mbrú and Massinse, the Monbuttu princes Tangara, Asanga, Munsa’s brother; Mbala, Munsa’s son; Kadabó, Benda, and others. In addition to these, the women, often as many as fifty or sixty, seated on little stools, were grouped round me, all beautifully painted black, with high chignons; those belonging to the princely houses, such as Munsa’s and Tangara’s daughters, being crowned with Monbuttu hats. If only you could have seen the transports of delight which Schweinfurth’s perfectly accurate drawings excited in this circle, and the interest with which they looked at my zoological sketches! The Monbuttu are a very highly-gifted people, and this would be a fertile field for happy and useful work. If anything is to be made of this richly-endowed country, here or nowhere is the place for a capable European official, who must, to be sure, possess some self-denial. If the Government would give the country over to me, independent of the Equatorial provinces proper, I should be quite willing to undertake the work at once. The distance from Lado could be diminished by the opening of new routes....

“I have been twice in Uganda, and believed I should meet with many persons like those in Monbuttu; but my expectations were not fulfilled. Monbuttu is very different from all that one is accustomed to see in Africa, and so different that a comparison can hardly be thought of. I was always meeting with indescribable splendor and luxuriance of vegetation—giant trees waving their tops together like a dome, more sublime and majestic than all the cathedrals in the world. Whoever wishes to attain a due sense of God’s majesty and power should go into these forests, and, silent and wondering, confess how miserable and contemptible are men’s works beside the works of Him who created this enchanting beauty and splendor.”

Troublous times came upon him, and in August, 1884, he was practically cut off from the rest of the world, and was in daily expectation of being assailed by the overwhelming hosts of the Mahdi. Under such circumstances he wrote:

“It will probably appear to you somewhat comical that, notwithstanding the non-arrival of a steamer, I should again take up my correspondence with you. It certainly seems as if we were totally deserted and forgotten by all the world. But I think that the good God, who has up to the present time protected us from all harm, will in the future also have us under His protection, and so, perchance, my letter may some day arrive at its destination. Whilst suffering from the very sorrowful impression which the surrender of Lupton Bey to the Mahdi’s troops had made upon me, I concluded my last letter to you in great haste. Dr. Junker wished to try to get to Zanzibar by the south route, via Uganda, and was so good as to take with him all my correspondence. Since he left here nearly two months have passed, and as since then all kinds of curious rumors have reached me, he has decided to wait awhile in Dufilé and watch the course of events. Up to the present, thank God, the much-feared invasion of our province by the Mahdi’s troops has not taken place, and I have been able, by giving up nearly all of my outlying stations, to concentrate my few soldiers.... I must, however, tell you that I heard from Lupton that he had been compelled to surrender both himself and his province into the Mahdi’s hands, and that he thought the best thing I could do was to follow his example.”

“Well may our friends,” he wrote on New Year’s Day, 1885, “have long since given up all hope for us. Our own Government has certainly deserted us. Yet we have managed to hold our own, and to defend our flag. How long we shall still be able to do so is a mere question of time, for as soon as the little remaining ammunition which we possess is expended, it will be all up with us.... We are without news as to the course of events in Khartoum; in fact, the whole of the outer world seems to have vanished completely from our ken. We have now begun to manufacture for ourselves the most indispensable articles—very passable shoe-work, soap, and more recently still, cotton cloth for clothes. Candles made of wax prove very useful, and instead of sugar we use honey. We have not, however, yet succeeded in our endeavor to make vinegar, but I am not without hope that we shall have success in that direction. Temperance is naturally compulsory, for the drinks of native manufacture can only be consumed by children of the soil. Coffee, which we have long missed, we have at last replaced by roasting the seeds of a species of hibiscus, and brewing from it a fairly passable drink. Tea naturally does not exist. I thank God for His protection hitherto, and hope and have faith enough to believe that He will still protect us, and at last enable my few poor people to return to their homes in peace.

“10th January.—Our fate it seems is soon to be decided. We hear that four hundred armed men from Bahr-el-Ghazal have joined the rebels and that one thousand five hundred more are on the way. Only a miracle can save us. I send at once as many as possible of my people to the south, for the route to Mtesa is still in existence. If I escape I will follow with my soldiers. But I can hardly expect to escape. It is shameful of our Government to have abandoned us.

“12th January.—Dr. Junker goes in the meantime to Anfinas. He takes with him all my letters. If I see him again, as I hope I may, for I have some belief in my good star, I will write more. May God preserve you.”

There Emin remained with his body of Egyptian troops throughout all the disturbance in that region—the appearance of El Mahdi and his success in wresting some of the adjoining Soudanese provinces from the Egyptians; Arabi Pasha’s insurrection in Egypt and the subsequent Mahdist manœuvers. Emin and his small force were surrounded by hostile tribes. He was heard from but seldom, and at last all communication ceased. The position in which Emin found himself after Gordon’s death excited the sympathy of the whole world. He was the Governor of a province which he had blessed with many of the arts of civilization, but was without sufficient force to resist the encroachments of the enemy. He fought the slave trade and the slave dealers with something like the passion of fanaticism. He was hemmed in by hordes of cut-throats, and every effort to save himself from the impending fate seemed futile. It was feared he had fallen, like Gordon.

In reviewing the career of this remarkable man, who has been so skillfully extricated by Stanley and his expedition, the New York Tribune has recently said, editorially:

“At his remote post of duty, this modest scientist has done more for the abolition of African slavery than any other man now living, if we except only his gallant deliverer. He gave civilization to an empire and the blessings of freedom to teeming millions. Throughout a territory larger than all our New England States he destroyed the slave trade, established government, and founded schools, posts and industries of varied kinds. His administration was more than self-supporting, and even after the betrayal of Khartoum and his isolation from the rest of the world, he was prepared to hold his own, if only he could have some trifling aid from Europe. That aid he did not get. There seemed to be neither money nor votes in helping him, so the statesmen of Europe went by on the other side. He conquered savagery, defied pestilence, and triumphed over every foe the wilderness could send against him. The one enemy he could not subdue was the selfish poltroonery of Europe. To that he has at last yielded. He has marched out in safety with honor upon his banners. He has left behind him the dismalest wreck in modern history to be a reproach to the Powers that betrayed him. That the desert was made to blossom like the rose, is Emin’s glory; that it now relapses into a worse desert than before, is Europe’s disgrace.”

CHAPTER XXVI.
THE EMIN BEY RELIEF EXPEDITION.

The betrayal of Gordon at Khartoum by the British Government, and the consequent sad plight it placed Emin Pasha in, so thoroughly exasperated public opinion in England that immediate steps were taken to form a relief committee, and to raise the necessary funds to defray the expenses of fitting-out a relief expedition, Sir William Mackinnon alone subscribing $100,000. To this the English Government grudgingly added a small appropriation from the Egyptian treasury.

Henry M. Stanley, while standing on the stage of the Academy of Music, in the city of Philadelphia, on December 11th, 1886, lecturing on his experiences in the Congo, received a cable despatch calling him to England to take charge of the expedition to Wadelai, Emin’s headquarters, near Lake Albert Nyanza. He immediately returned to England, and in a short time the arrangements were completed with the committee having the matter in charge.

There was much discussion as to the route to be taken, most authorities favoring that overland from Zanzibar. But Mr. Stanley determined upon the Congo, and he described the character of the expedition as follows:

“The expedition is non-military—that is to say, its purpose is not to fight, destroy, or waste; its purpose is to save, to relieve distress, to carry comfort. Emin Pasha may be a good man, a brave officer, a gallant fellow deserving of a strong effort of relief; but I decline to believe, and I have not been able to gather from any one in England, an impression that his life, or the lives of the few hundreds under him, would overbalance the lives of thousands of natives, and the devastation of immense tracts of country which an expedition strictly military would naturally cause. The expedition is a mere powerful caravan, armed with rifles for the purpose of insuring the safe conduct of the ammunition to Emin Pasha, and for the more certain protection of this people during the retreat home. But it also has means of purchasing the friendship of tribes and chiefs, of buying food and paying its way liberally.”

Mr. Stanley went from England to Egypt, where he stopped for a time at Cairo, completing his arrangements with the Egyptian Government. At the railway station, just before leaving for the wilderness, he had a farewell conversation with his friend Colonel John Colborne, a veteran of the Egyptian army in the Soudan. Speaking of some current rumors that he intended to seize Emin’s province as a British possession, he said: “The province is not worth taking, at least in the present state of affairs. The difficulty of transport from either coast is too great, and the expense, also, to give a return for money. As long as the Nile is closed the Central provinces will never pay, and it will be years before it is open again. Yes, the Central African provinces would be valuable enough were river communication free. On the east side there is no sufficiently navigable river, the presence of the tsetse fly prevents the employment of bullocks and horses, the ground is unsuited for camels, and the African elephant has never been tamed, so the only means of transport is by the Wapagari, or native porters, and a precious slow and expensive means it is, too. For any large trade purposes it would be utterly inadequate; besides, the only present trade is in ivory and ebony—you know what I mean by that, I suppose?—and ivory is getting scarcer. Of course, if the Nile were open, there might be a splendid and most remunerative trade in gum, hides, beeswax, india-rubber; anything, too, I believe, could be cultivated to perfection in these provinces, and probably the natives would soon learn, when once they got to appreciate the benefit of trading, to grow cotton, tea, perhaps coffee, rice, and the cinchona plant. Some parts are suited well for one kind of plant, other parts for another. Thus, cotton would grow nearer the coasts, whereas tea and coffee and the cinchona plant could be cultivated on the slopes. But, as I said before, the true transit for trade is by the Nile.”

In the course of further conversation he said, “Do you know that the Nile itself could be turned off with comparative ease? The Victoria Nyanza is on a plateau like an inverted basin. It could be made to trickle over at any point. The present King of Uganda is fond of his liquor. Waking up any morning after drinking too much ‘mwengi’ (plantain wine) over night, he might have what is called ‘a head on him,’ and feel in a very bad temper. He might then take it into his head to turn off the Nile. He might do this by ordering a thousand or so natives to turn out and continue to drop stones across the Ripon Falls at the top till they were blocked. To do this would be quite possible. I calculate this could be done by the number of men I mention in nine months, for the falls are very narrow. True, the effect of this could be counteracted in a year or so by reservoirs and dykes; but meanwhile the population of Egypt would be starved. His father, King Mtesa, once actually contemplated doing this—not with a view of creating mischief, but because he wanted to water some particular tract of land, and for this purpose to make the lake dribble over it.”

Concerning his own immediate work, Mr. Stanley talked at some length. “Tell them at home,” he said, “that my mission is purely pacific. Does any one think I am going to wade through blood to get at Emin? If I succeeded, what would be the consequence? News would be brought to the King, ‘Stanley is coming with an army of thirty thousand men’—you know how figures increase when estimated by savages—and what would be the consequence? ‘Ho! is he indeed?’ the King would say; ‘I’ll teach him to bring an army into my country. Chop off the heads of the missionaries.’ And,” added Mr. Stanley, speaking quite excitedly, “what, I should like to know, is the value of Emin’s life in comparison with that of the lives of such noble men as Mackay, Lichfield, Père Loudel, and Frère Delmonce? Does any one think I would sacrifice them for the sake of Emin?”

On reaching Zanzibar he found that his agents had already recruited a force of six hundred men for the expedition, and that Tippu-Tib, who had escorted his caravan in 1877, when the first descent of the Congo was made, was waiting for him. Tippu-Tib was the Zobehr of the Upper Congo, commanding two of the best roads from the river to Wadelai. He agreed to supply six hundred carriers at thirty dollars a man; and as Emin was reported by Dr. Junker to have seventy-five tons of ivory, the expenses of the expedition might be largely defrayed by the return of the Zanzibaris to the Congo with their precious loads. Tippu-Tib was also offered the position of Governor at Stanley Falls at a regular salary. He consented to accompany Mr. Stanley on these terms. The steamer set out on February 25th for the mouth of the Congo with about seven hundred men of the expedition, reaching its destination in four weeks. He was then twelve hundred and sixty-six miles from Aruwimi, whence he was to march four hundred miles through an unknown country to Emin’s capital. It was as late as April 26th before he could leave Leopoldville, on Stanley Pool, and it was not until the second week in June that the explorer himself was at Aruwimi, much delay having been caused by defective transportation.

He left men at Stanley Falls with instructions to rebuild the storehouses, to open negotiations with the tribes, and to provide convoys of provisions for the relief expedition. A rearguard was left at Yambuya, and the advance column passed on to the limits of navigation, whence the overland march was taken up. Few difficulties were encountered apart from the natural obstacles presented by a country very difficult to traverse. About July 25th the expedition had ascended the River Aruwimi as far as an elevated tract of country forming a portion of the Mabodi district. At this distance from its confluence with the Congo the river became very narrow, being no longer navigable, and Mr. Stanley was compelled for several days to have all the provisions and munitions for the use of the expedition, as well as those intended for the revictualling of Emin Pasha’s garrison, carried on the men’s backs. The quantity of rice was so large that each man had to bear a double burden. The rafts which had been employed to convey the heavy baggage were left behind, and only the steel whale-boat brought from the camp at the foot of the Aruwimi rapids was carried past the narrows and again launched in the river, Mr. Stanley greatly congratulating himself that he had brought it, owing to the amount of water which, according to the inhabitants of that part of the country, the expedition would have to cross before reaching the Albert Nyanza. Mr. Stanley calculated that once arrived at the summit of the table-lands which shape the basin of the Aruwimi he would be able to halt for two days, in order to rest his men and establish a fresh camp, garrisoned like that at Yambuya, by twenty men and a European officer. The population of the country through which Mr. Stanley was then travelling was considerable, but the people were much scattered. The district was tranquil, the agitation prevalent in the neighborhood of Stanley Falls not having spread to that part of the country.

At the beginning of August the expedition was reported to be advancing without the ammunition and stores designed for Emin. Provisions were scarce, the officers and men undergoing great privations, and suffering from disease and hunger. Tippu-Tib had failed to send to Yambuya the five hundred carriers who were to convey the stores. This failure was not due to treachery, since he was still at his post and faithful to Mr. Stanley’s interests. In consequence of the disturbed state of the country he could not, as had been agreed upon, organize a revictualling caravan to be dispatched direct to the Albert Nyanza by the way of the River Mbourou, but he agreed to do so as soon as possible. The agitation continued in the country between Stanley Falls and the confluence of the Aruwimi with the Congo. Several villages on the right bank of the Congo had been pillaged and laid waste, and a large number of the natives had crossed the river to the opposite bank.

Thus, Mr. Stanley and his comrades plunged into the wilderness, and were lost to the sight of the world. From time to time thereafter countless rumors came from Africa regarding them—rumors varied in tone as in number. At one time they had reached Emin in safety. Again they were all massacred long before they got to Wadelai. Now, Mr. Stanley had put himself at the head of Emin’s army, and was marching on Khartoum to avenge Gordon and overthrow the Mahdi; and then he and Emin were captured by the Mahdist forces at Lado. Stories came of a mysterious “White Pasha” who was leading a conquering army through the Bahr el Ghazel country, and it was very generally believed that it was Mr. Stanley, who had reached Wadelai and was returning to the coast by the way of the Niger. But on December 15th, 1888, startling news came from Suakim, on the Red Sea coast of Egypt. Osman Digna, the Frenchman who had turned Arab, and was leader of the Mahdist army there, under a flag of truce informed the British commander that Emin’s province had fallen into Arab hands, and that Emin and Stanley were prisoners. In proof of this he sent a copy of a letter just received from a Mahdist officer in the Soudan, as follows:

“In the name of the Great God, etc. This is from the least among God’s servants to his Master and Chief Khalifa, etc. We proceeded with the steamers and army. Reached the town Lado, where Emin, Mudir of Equator, is staying. We reached this place 5th Safar, 1306. We must thank officers and men who made this conquest easy to us before our arrival. They caught Emin and a traveler staying with him, and put both in chains. The officers and men refused to go to Egypt with the Turks. Tewfik sent Emin one of the travellers, whose name is Mr. Stanley. This Mr. Stanley brought with him a letter from Tewfik to Emin, dated 8th Jemal Aowal, 1304, No. 81, telling Emin to come with Mr. Stanley, and gave the rest of the force the option to go to Cairo or remain. The force refused the Turkish orders, and gladly received us. I found a great deal of feathers and ivory. I am sending with this, on board the ‘Bordain,’ the officers and chief clerk. I am also sending the letter which came to Emin from Tewfik, with the banners we took from the Turks. I heard that there is another traveller who came to Emin, but I heard that he returned. I am looking out for him. If he comes back again, I am sure to catch him. All the chiefs of the province with the inhabitants were delighted to receive us. I have taken all the arms and ammunition. Please return the officers and chief clerk when you have seen them and given the necessary instructions, because they will be of great use to me.”

This was accompanied by what appeared to be a letter written by the Khedive at Cairo to Emin, which had been intrusted to Mr. Stanley to deliver, and this convinced many of the truth of Osman Digna’s story. But, as a matter of fact, as will be seen later, it was all an ingenious lie, concocted for the purpose of frightening the British into abandoning Suakim to the slave-traders. Meantime there was true news of actual disasters on the Congo. Major Barttelot, commanding the rearguard of the expedition, was murdered; and Mr. Jamieson, who succeeded to the command, died of fever. Under these circumstances, the gloomiest and most anxious views prevailed regarding Mr. Stanley’s fate. That famous and experienced African traveller, Mr. Joseph Thomson, expressed the opinion that the whole expedition had been annihilated. “Stanley,” he said, “has met his terrible fate in some such way as this: He started from the Aruwimi, and almost immediately plunged into dense forests, to be made worse by swamps further east. Through such a country his caravan would have to travel in single file, with probably no more than twenty men in sight at one time. Under such conditions it would be impossible for the Europeans to keep in touch with their men, and thus scattered, thus without officers in a sense, they would fight at a terrible disadvantage. And fight they would have to for daily food if nothing else, and consequently with each succeeding week less able to continue the struggle. In this way they plunged deeper and deeper into the recesses of the unknown forest and swamp—and deeper and deeper, no doubt, into the heart of a powerful tribe of natives. And then the end came. Probably in that last struggle for life not a soul escaped.

“If you ask me why no news, no rumor of that catastrophe leaked out, I answer because there was no trade, not even a slave route, through that region. There was no native or Arab merchant to carry the news from tribe to tribe; and as each tribe has little but fighting relations with the neighboring ones, the tidings would not get through by their means. And, after all, what would the massacre of a passing caravan be to those savages? Only a common incident not worth speaking about beside the continual tribal wars they are accustomed to. The one thing they would find to remark would be the wonderful character of the plunder. Some day, no doubt, the news will leak out, but it may be months before anything reaches us. It is not much use crying over spilt milk, but one cannot help lamenting over this probable new disaster. It is all so much on a par with our terrible blunderings in the Soudan and East Africa. Only another remarkable man killed, and the magnificent life’s work of another ruined. But for the selection of the Congo route Stanley might have been alive, Emin succored, and not improbably the Mahdi’s host defeated.”

These were weighty words, coming from so eminent an authority, and they carried conviction to the hearts of many. But less than ten days later positive and authentic news of Mr. Stanley’s arrival at Emin Pasha’s capital was received, and April 3d, 1889, full details of the campaign, written by Mr. Stanley himself, were received and published. This letter was to the Chairman of the Relief Committee, and was dated at Bungangeta Island, Ituri or Aruwimi River, August 28th, 1888, and from which we quote:

“A short dispatch briefly announcing that we had placed the first installment of relief in the hands of Emin Pasha on the Albert Nyanza was sent to you by couriers from Stanley Falls, along with letters to Tippu-Tib, the Arab Governor of that district, on the 17th inst., within three hours of our meeting with the rear column of the expedition. I propose to relate to you the story of our movements since June 28th, 1887.

“I had established an entrenched and palisaded camp at Yambuya, on the Lower Aruwimi, just below the first rapids. Major Edmund Barttelot, being senior of these officers with me, was appointed commandant. Mr. J. S. Jamieson, a volunteer, was associated with him. On the arrival of all men and goods from Bolobo and Stanley Pool, the officers still believed Messrs. Troup, Ward and Bonny were to report to Major Barttelot for duty. But no important action or movement (according to letter of instructions given by me to the Major before leaving) was to be made without consulting with Messrs. Jamieson, Troup, and Ward. The columns under Major Barttelot’s orders mustered two hundred and fifty-seven men.

“As I requested the Major to send you a copy of the instructions issued to each officer, you are doubtless aware that the Major was to remain at Yambuya until the arrival of the steamer from Stanley Pool with the officers, men, and goods left behind; and if Tippu-Tib’s promised contingent of carriers had in the meantime arrived, he was to march his column and follow our track, which, so long as it traversed the forest region, would be known by the blazing of the trees, by our camps and zaribas, etc. If Tippu-Tib’s carriers did not arrive, then, if he (the Major) preferred moving on to staying at Yambuya, he was to discard such things as mentioned in letter of instructions, and commence making double and triple journeys by short stages, until I should come down from the Nyanza and relieve him. The instructions were explicit and, as the officers admitted, intelligible.

“The advance column, consisting of three hundred and eighty-nine officers and men, set out from Yambuya, June 28th, 1887. The first day we followed the river bank, marched twelve miles, and arrived in the large district of Yankondé. At our approach the natives set fire to their villages, and, under cover of the smoke, attacked the pioneers who were clearing the numerous obstructions they had planted before the first village. The skirmish lasted fifteen minutes. The second day we followed a path leading inland but trending east. We followed this path for five days through a dense population. Every art known to native minds for molesting, impeding, and wounding an enemy was resorted to, but we passed through without the loss of a man. Perceiving that the path was taking us too far from our course, we cut a northeasterly track, and reached the river again on the 5th of July. From this date until the 18th of October we followed the left bank of the Aruwimi. After seventeen days’ continuous marching we halted one day for rest. On the twenty-fourth day from Yambuya we lost two men by desertion. In the month of July we made four halts only. On the 1st of August the first death occurred, which was from dysentery; so that for thirty-four days our course had been singularly successful. But as we now entered a wilderness, which occupied us nine days in marching through it, our sufferings began to multiply, and several deaths occurred. The river at this time was of great use to us. Our boat and several canoes relieved the wearied and sick of their loads, so that progress, though not brilliant as during the first month, was still steady.

“On the 13th of August we arrived at Air-Sibba. The natives made a bold front. We lost five men through poisoned arrows, and, to our great grief, Lieutenant Stairs was wounded just below the heart; but, though he suffered greatly for nearly a month, he finally recovered. On the 15th Mr. Jephson, in command of the land party, led his men inland, became confused, and lost his way. We were not re-united until the 21st.

“On the 25th of August we arrived in the district of Air-jeli. Opposite our camp was the mouth of the tributary Nepoko.

“On the 31st of August we met for the first time a party of Manyema, belonging to the caravan of Ugarrowwa, alias Uledi Balyuz, who turned out to be a former tent-boy of Speke’s. Our misfortunes began from this date, for I had taken the Congo route to avoid Arabs, that they might not tamper with my men, and tempt them to desert by their presents. Twenty-six men deserted within three days of this unfortunate meeting.

“On the 16th of September we arrived at a camp opposite the station at Ugarrowwa’s. As food was very scarce, owing to his having devastated an immense region, we halted but one day near him. Such friendly terms as I could make with such a man I made, and left fifty-six men with him. All the Somalis preferred to rest at Ugarrowwa’s to the continuous marching. Five Soudanese were also left. It would have been certain death for all of them to have accompanied us. At Ugarrowwa’s they might possibly recover. Five dollars a month per head was to be paid to this man for their food.

“On September 18th we left Ugarrowwa’s, and on the 18th of October entered the settlement occupied by Kilinga-Longa, a Zanzibari slave belonging to Abed bin Salim, an old Arab, whose bloody deeds are recorded in ‘The Congo, and the Founding of its Free State.’ This proved an awful month to us. Not one member of the expedition, white or black, will ever forget it. The advance numbered two hundred and seventy-three souls on leaving Ugarrowwa’s, because out of three hundred and eighty we had lost sixty-six men by desertion and death between Yambuya and Ugarrowwa’s, and had left fifty-six men sick at the Arab station. On reaching Kilinga-Longa’s we discovered we had lost fifty-five men by starvation and desertion. We had lived principally on wild fruit, fungi, and a large, flat, bean-shaped nut. The slaves of Abed bin Salim did their utmost to ruin the expedition. Short of open hostilities, they purchased rifles, ammunition, clothing, so that when we left their station we were beggared, and our men were absolutely naked. We were so weak physically that we were unable to carry the boat and about seventy loads of goods. We therefore left these goods and boat at Kilinga-Longa’s under Surgeon Parke and Captain Nelson, the latter of whom was unable to march, and after twelve days’ march we arrived at a native settlement called Ibwiri. Between Kilinga-Longa’s and Ibwiri our condition had not improved. The Arab devastation had reached within a few miles of Ibwiri—a devastation so complete that there was not one native hut standing between Ugarrowwa’s and Ibwiri, and what had not been destroyed by the slaves of Ugarrowwa and Abed bin Salim the elephants had destroyed, and turned the whole region into a horrible wilderness. But at Ibwiri we were beyond the utmost reach of the destroyers. We were on virgin soil in a populous region abounding with food. Our suffering from hunger, which began on the 31st of August, terminated on the 12th of November. Ourselves and men were skeletons. Out of three hundred and eighty-nine we now only numbered one hundred and seventy-four, several of whom seemed to have no hope of life left. A halt was therefore ordered for the people to recuperate. Hitherto our people were skeptical of what we told them. The suffering had been so awful, calamities so numerous, the forest so endless apparently, that they refused to believe that by and by we should see plains and cattle and the Nyanza and the white man, Emin Pasha. We felt as though we were dragging them along with a chain around our necks. ‘Beyond these raiders lies a country untouched, where food is abundant and where you will forget your miseries. So cheer up, boys! Be men; press on a little faster.’ They turned a deaf ear to our prayers and entreaties—for, driven by hunger and suffering, they sold their rifles and equipments for a few ears of Indian corn, deserted with the ammunition, and were altogether demoralized. Perceiving that prayers and entreaties and mild punishments were of no avail, I then resorted to visit upon the wretches the death penalty. Two of the worst cases were accordingly taken and hung in presence of all.

“We halted thirteen days in Ibwiri, and revelled on fowls, goats, bananas, corn, sweet potatoes, yams, beans, etc. The supplies were inexhaustible, and the people glutted themselves. The effect was such that I had a hundred and seventy-three—one was killed by an arrow—mostly sleek and robust men, when I set out for the Albert Nyanza on the 24th of November.

“There were still a hundred and twenty-six miles between us and the lake; but, given food, such a distance seemed nothing.

“On the 1st of December we sighted the open country from the top of a ridge connected with Mount Pisgah—so named from our first view of the land of promise and plenty. On the 5th of December we emerged upon the plains, and the deadly gloomy forest was behind us. After a hundred and sixty days of continuous gloom we saw the light of broad day shining all around us, and making all things beautiful. We thought we had never seen grass so green or country so lovely. The men literally yelled and leaped with joy, and raced over the ground with their burdens. Ah! this was the old spirit of former expeditions successfully completed all of a sudden revived!

“Woe betide the native aggressor we may meet, however powerful he may be; with such a spirit the men will fling themselves like wolves on sheep. Numbers will not be considered. It had been the eternal forests that had made the abject, slavish creatures, so brutally plundered by Arab slaves at Kilonga-Longa’s.

“On the 9th we came to the country of the powerful chief Mozamboni. The villages were scattered over a great extent of country so thickly that there was no other road except through their villages or fields. From a long distance the natives had sighted us and were prepared. We seized a hill as soon as we arrived in the centre of a mass of villages about 4 P. M. on the 9th of December and occupied it, building a zariba as fast as bill-hooks could cut brushwood. The war cries were terrible from hill to hill; they were sent pealing across the intervening valleys; the people gathered by hundreds from every point; war-horns and drums announced that a struggle was about to take place. Such natives as were too bold we checked with but little effort, and a slight skirmish ended in us capturing a cow, the first beef tasted since we left the ocean. The night passed peacefully, both sides preparing for the morrow. On the morning of the 10th we attempted to open negotiations. The natives were anxious to know who we were, and we were anxious to glean news of the land that threatened to ruin the expedition. Hours were passed talking, both parties keeping a respectable distance apart. The natives said they were subject to Uganda; but that Kabba-Rega was their real King, Mozamboni holding the country for Kabba-Rega. They finally accepted cloth and brass rods to show their King Mozamboni, and his answer was to be given next day. In the meantime all hostilities were to be suspended.

“The morning of the 11th dawned, and at 8 A. M. we were startled at hearing a man proclaiming that it was Mozamboni’s wish that we should be driven back from the land. The proclamation was received by the valley around our neighborhood with deafening cries. Their word ‘kanwana’ signifies to make peace, ‘kurwana’ signifies war. We were therefore in doubt, or rather we hoped we had heard wrongly. We sent an interpreter a little nearer to ask if it was kanwana or kurwana. Kurwana, they responded, and to emphasize the term two arrows were shot at him, which dissipated all doubt. Our hill stood between a lofty range of hills and a lower range. On one side of us was a narrow valley two hundred and fifty yards wide; on the other side the valley was three miles wide. East and west of us the valley broadened into an extensive plain. The higher range of hills was lined with hundreds preparing to descend; the broader valley was already mustering its hundreds. There was no time to lose. A body of forty men were sent, under Lieutenant Stairs, to attack the broader valley. Mr. Jephson was sent with thirty men east; a choice body of sharpshooters was sent to test the courage of those descending the slope of the highest range. Stairs pressed on, crossed a deep and narrow river in the face of hundreds of natives, and assaulted the first village and took it. The sharpshooters did their work effectively, and drove the descending natives rapidly up the slope until it became a general flight. Meantime, Mr. Jephson was not idle. He marched straight up the valley east, driving the people back, and taking their villages as he went. By 3 P. M. there was not a native visible anywhere, except on one small hill about a mile and a half west of us.

“On the morning of the 12th we continued our march. During the day we had four little fights. On the 13th marched straight east; attacked by new forces every hour until noon, when we halted for refreshments. These we successfully overcame.

“At 1 P. M. we resumed our march. Fifteen minutes later I cried out, ‘Prepare yourself for a sight of the Nyanza.’ The men murmured and doubted, and said, ‘Why does the master continually talk to us in this way? Nyanza, indeed! Is not this a plain, and can we not see mountains at least four days’ march ahead of us?’ At 1.30 P. M. the Albert Nyanza was below them. Now it was my turn to jeer and scoff at the doubters; but as I was about to ask them what they saw, so many came to kiss my hands and beg my pardon, that I could not say a word. This was my reward. The mountains, they said, were the mountains of Unyoro, or rather its lofty plateau wall. Kavali, the objective point of the expedition, was six miles from us as the crow flies.

“We were at an altitude of five thousand two hundred feet above the sea. The Albert Nyanza was over two thousand nine hundred below us. We stood in 1° 20´ N. latitude; the south end of the Nyanza lay largely mapped about six miles south of this position. Right across to the eastern shore every dent in its low, flat shore was visible; and traced like a silver snake on a dark ground was the tributary Laniliki, flowing into the Albert from the southwest.

“After a short halt to enjoy the prospect, we commenced the rugged and stony descent. Before the rearguard had descended one hundred feet, the natives of the plateau we had just left poured after them. Had they shown as much courage and perseverance on the plain as they now exhibited, we might have been seriously delayed. The rearguard was kept very busy until within a few hundred feet of the Nyanza plain. We camped at the foot of the plateau wall, the aneroids reading two thousand five hundred feet above sea-level. A night attack was made on us, but our sentries sufficed to drive these natives away.

“At 9 A. M. of the 14th we approached the village of Kakongo, situate at the southwest corner of the Albert Lake. Three hours were spent by us attempting to make friends. We signally failed. They would not allow us to go to the lake, because we might frighten their cattle. They would not exchange blood-brotherhood with us, because they never heard of any good people coming from the west side of the lake. They would not accept any present from us, because they did not know who we were. They would give us water to drink, and they would show us our road up to Nyamsassie. But from these singular people we learned that they had heard there was a white man at Unyoro, but they had never heard of any white men being on the west side, nor had they seen any steamers on the lake. There were no canoes to be had, except such as would hold the men, etc.