CHAPTER XIX. ARRIVAL AT BANALYA: BARTTELOT DEAD.

The Relief Force—The difficulties of marching—We reach Ipoto—Kilongo Longa apologises for the behaviour of his Manyuema—The chief returns us some of our rifles—Dr. Parke and fourteen men return to Fort Bodo—Ferrying across the Ituri river—Indications of some of our old camps—We unearth our buried stores—The Manyuema escort—Bridging the Lenda river—The famished Madi—Accidents and deaths among the Zanzibaris and Madi—My little fox-terrier "Randy"—The vast clearing of Ujangwa—Native women guides—We reach Ugarrowwa's abandoned station—Welcome food at Amiri Falls—Navabi Falls—Halt at Avamburi landing-place—Death of a Madi chief—Our buried stores near Basopo unearthed and stolen—Juma and Nassib wander away from the column—The evils of forest marching—Conversation between my tent-boy, Sali, and a Zanzibari—Numerous bats at Mabengu village—We reach Avisibba, and find a young Zanzibari girl—Nejambi Rapids and Panga Falls—The natives of Panga—At Mugwye's we disturb an intended feast—We overtake Ugarrowwa at Wasp Rapids and find our couriers and some deserters in his camp—The head courier relates his tragic story—Amusing letter from Dr. Parke to Major Barttelot—Progress of our canoe flotilla down the river—The Batundu natives—Our progress since leaving the Nyanza—Thoughts about the Rear Column—Desolation along the banks of the river—We reach Banalya—Meeting with Bonny—The Major is dead—Banalya Camp.

1888.
June 16.
Fort Bodo. On the 16th of June, in the early morning we set out from Fort Bodo towards Yambuya in excellent spirits, loudly cheered by the garrison and with the best wishes of the officers. We numbered 113 Zanzibaris, ninety-five Madi carriers, four of Emin Pasha's soldiers, two whites besides Dr. Parke and his little band of fourteen men, whose company we were to have as far as Ipoto. Indékaru was reached on the evening of the 17th, amid a heavy storm of rain. The next day was a halt to collect more plantains. On the 19th we camped at Ndugu-bisha, the day following at Nzalli's. We had by this time been introduced to the difficulties of forest 1888.
June 20.
Nzalli's. marching. The cries of the column leaders recalled most painfully what an absence of seven months had caused us almost to forget.

"Red ants afoot! Look out for a stump, ho! Skewers! A pitfall to right! a burrow to left! Thorns, thorns, 'ware thorns! Those ants; lo! a tripping creeper, Nettles, 'ware nettles! A hole! Slippery beneath, beneath! look out for mud! A root! Red ants! red ants amarch! Look sharp for ants! A log! Skewers below!" And so on from camp to camp.

Most of the villages along this route still stood, but all awry and decaying; reeling from rotten uprights, the eave corners on the ground, green mould covering the floors within, hollows filled with slime, and fungi flourishing along the sides, and nitrous excrescences abounding; roofs covered with creepers, nettles, and prolific gourd vines—veritable nests of ague, into which, however, necessity compelled us and our men to seek shelter by reason of excessive fatigue, or imminence of a rainstorm.

Mambungu's was reached on the 21st, and on the edge of the Busindi clearing we camped on the following day. After forty-seven hours marching from Fort Bodo we entered the Arab settlement of Ipoto, where it will be remembered our people, maddened by distress of hunger, caused me such serious losses of arms and ammunition. But the change in their condition was so great, and their eyes flashed such lively glances of scorn at their tormentors, that in the afternoon Kilonga-Longa, with his headmen, dreading reprisal, began with many apologies for the behaviour of his Manyuema during his absence to extenuate the heinousness of their crimes, and to offer to atone for them as well as he was able. Nineteen Remingtons were laid before me, out of thirty I knew to be in their possession. Six of these had been left as pledges of payment by myself, two were given by Mr. Stairs acting in my name, one was sold by Captain Nelson, and ten were sold by Zanzibaris, besides eleven not yet recovered; but out of 3000 cartridges and two entire cases these receivers of stolen goods purchased 1888.
June 21.
Ipoto. from the starving Zanzibaris, only fifty were returned. Whatever fears the Manyuema may have felt, the fit time for reprisal and retaliation had not arrived, though fifty rifles could have captured the settlement easily, the majority of Kilonga-Longa's people being absent raiding eastward. We had far more important business afoot than the destruction of Ipoto, nor must it be forgotten that our little garrison at Fort Bodo was not so secure but that a few hundreds of men made desperate by their losses might not avenge themselves fully by a siege or midnight assault.

We therefore, bending under the necessities of the occasion, accepted the rifles and gifts of goat and rice, and the Zanzibaris were permitted to sell such ivory as they had packed up for 100 pecks of rice, which to them was most welcome provender.

The next day the chief returned two more rifles, but all my men being sufficiently armed, he was requested to retain them as pledges, in addition to the six remaining in his hands, for payment of ninety doti of cloth promised to him and his people for the grudging and scant sustenance given to Captain Nelson and Dr. Parke while they were compulsory guests of this ill-natured community.

In the afternoon Dr. Parke and his little band of fourteen men commenced their return journey to Fort Bodo, conveying thirteen loads, and bearing the very last instructions I could give.

On the 25th June we set out from Ipoto accompanied by a guide and our escort of fifteen Manyuema, who were ostentatiously detailed for this duty as far as the next Arab settlement, one of Ugarrowwa's outlying stations. We arrived at the Ituri River, and a canoe capable of carrying nine men was delivered over to us at 3 p.m. to serve as the means of ferriage. As one trip to the left bank and back occupied on an average twenty-three minutes, night fell before a half of our force was across.

The work of ferrying was resumed early next morning, and continued until two o'clock, when every soul had 1888.
June 25.
Ituri
River. crossed excepting the Manyuema escort whose fears that sudden vengeance would be inflicted on them, caused them to decline the venture they had been ordered to undertake.

We were now fairly in the wide uninhabited wilderness through which last October the Expedition struggled, gaunt victims of a merciless famine. No consideration would have tempted us to a revisit of these dreadful shades, but that we fostered a lively hope that we should soon meet our returning couriers, who we expected would gratify us with news from the Major's column. Imbued with the fond belief that as they had not arrived at Ipoto we should meet them on this road—none other being known to them—we marched briskly from the landing-place, and in two and three-quarter hours reached the camp whence we had crossed over to the north bank on the 14th of October last. Indications of our stay here were yet fresh—the charcoal broad arrows drawn on the barked tree stems, the lead pencil writing to Khamis Parry still plainly legible.

At 1.15 P.M. of the 28th we arrived at Nelson's camp, opposite the confluence of the Ihuru with the Ituri, a place which last October witnessed such death and agony, where poor Nelson sat so many hours, so many wretched days with ulcered feet, waiting anxiously the arrival of news from us, and where he was found by his friend Mounteney Jephson, haggard, and reduced by his feelings of forlornness and despair into a state of abject helplessness, in the midst of his dying and dead companions. We had performed the march in twenty hours, or in four days inclusive of our detention while ferrying with one small craft. Last October, despite our strenuous endeavours, the same distance had occupied us thirty-nine hours' marching, or thirteen days inclusive of the halt! The condition of the stomach made all this great difference.

We found our cache untouched, though we had strong doubts, and unearthed our buried stores which Jephson's relief party was unable to carry away. The ammunition, 1888.
June 28.
Starvation
Camp. made by Kynoch of Birmingham, after eight months' burial in the sand, subject to tropic damp and an eternal rain, was not so much injured as we expected, a full eighty per cent of it being still sound, and the well-waxed brass cases and copper caps yet exhibited their native brightness and gloss. Distributing 1,000 rounds to the men for the refilling of their pouches, selecting such other articles as were useful, we made up eight loads, and after burying the rest as superfluous, we hurried away from the hateful spot, camping far inland.

Arriving at camp, we discovered four Madi carriers to have deserted with the kits of their Zanzibari mates. Had they known, what we could never forget, of the evil repute of this wilderness, they probably would have chosen the brawling river for their graves than the slow torture of famine in the ruthless forest.

At sunset we were surprised to see the Manyuema escort reach our camp. They had fled to Kilonga Longa's, and that gentleman had sternly ordered them to follow us again, and not to return without a note reporting they had performed the duty on which they had been sent.

On the 29th we left the river route and steered a south-westerly course through the pathless forest, in order to strike the road taken by Mr. Stairs' party on their return from Ugarrowwa's. As the headman Rashid bin Omar was of our party, we presumed—as he asserted his faith in himself—that he would recognize the path if it were shown to him, after which of course there would be no difficulty. The whole of the 29th and 30th were occupied in this south-westerly course undeviating. We meanwhile crossed several native paths, but as Rashid failed to recognize any of them, we continued on our way. On the 1st July, early in the morning's march, we entered the basin of the Lenda River, and then, as Rashid expressed himself of the opinion that we must have passed the path, we took a direct westerly course, steering straight on through the forest by compass. At noon of the 2nd we struck the Lenda 1888.
July 1.
Lenda
River. River which generally flowed, as we observed during the afternoon march of the 2nd and until noon of the 3rd, N.N.W. Discovering a narrow chasm thirty yards wide through which the Lenda rushed furiously, we conceived it would be to our advantage to throw a bridge across this river, and trust to fortune showing us the path to Ugarrowwa's station on the other bank, rather than continue along the Lenda River on the right bank, lest we might be forced to wander for days without finding the means of crossing. Accordingly we selected three of the tallest trees, 115, 110, and 108 feet respectively, which we managed to launch across the chasm, and these resting on stout forked uprights, with railings to steady the laden men, made a commodious and safe bridge. Early on the morning of the 5th the bridge was completed, and by ten o'clock every man was safe across.

The Madi carriers having purposely scattered their corn provision along the road to lighten their loads, began now to pay the penalty of their wastefulness. Though the camp-crier cried out daily the number of days yet remaining for which the provisions must last, the ignorant savages were, however, too dense-headed to profit by the warning; consequently we had a dozen feeble wretches already faltering in their gait. We were already short of seven—four of whom had deserted.

We continued on the left bank our westerly course, and meantime crossed several native paths inclining S.E. and N.W., but we found none that can be made available for our necessity.

On the 6th we stumbled across a clearing garnished with a small but thriving plantation of plantains. The famished Madis rushed on this supply like hungry wolves on their prey, and soon devoured the whole, but three of them trod on cunningly-hidden sharp-pointed skewers set in the ground.

Through a pelting rain we travelled on the 7th, and, wet and miserable, camped in the bosom of untraversed woods. One hour's march next day brought us to the 1888.
July 7.
Bandeya. small village of Balia, and five hours later halted for the night at Bandeya.

This day had been replete with miseries and singular accidents. A shower of cold rain fell on us after leaving Balia, and three of the naked Madis fell dead within a few paces of each other. At the first indications of this shower I had ordered a halt, and spread out about 150 square feet of tenting, inviting everyone to huddle under it. The shower over, we rolled up the canvas and resumed the march, but we were still subject to the heavy cold dripping of the foliage. The Zanzibaris, more accustomed to it and in better condition of body, were not much inconvenienced; but three Madis, depressed in mind, depleted in body, fell dead as suddenly as though shot. A Lado soldier of Emin Pasha's and a Zanzibari were skewered in the feet, and so crippled by these painful wounds that we were obliged to carry them. Near Bandeya another Madi native succumbed to illness caused by insufficient food, and a Zanzibari was shot by a bold and crafty dwarf with an arrow which penetrated between the ribs, but not to a fatal depth. Arriving at the village, my cook Hassan, in an unfortunate moment, while drawing his Winchester rifle towards him, caused it to explode, tearing a large portion of the muscles of the left arm; and near midnight a youth named Amari, while blowing up to a brighter flame a watch-fire, was suddenly wounded in the head by a bullet from a Remington cartridge that some one had carelessly dropped near the embers.

The next day, guided by some women who said they knew the way to Ugarrowwa's, there was a most tedious march through an immense clearing lately abandoned by the natives. None that I can remember was so full of vexations. It was a strained position at every stride we took—now treading on a slippery trunk which bridged a chasm bristling with dangers from a number of dead branches, their sharp points erected upwards threatening impalement to the unfortunate man who fell from such a height on them; then balancing oneself on a log thrown across a rushing stream; anon plunged into a brake 1888.
July 9.
Ujangwa. suffocatingly close from the dense masses of myriads of creepers growing above and around; soon stumbling through a deep green slough, its depth hidden by floating vegetable parasites, then over a fearful array of logs, the relics of the old forest, and every step the difficulties repeated until near noon we had traversed with streaming bodies the vast clearing of Ujangwa. On the confines of the virgin forest we formed camp, despatched the people to gather plantains and to prepare them as provisions for the few days yet remaining of the wilderness.

By solar observations I discovered we were in N. lat. 1° 0' 16".

On the 10th I suspected we were taking a course which, if continued, would lead us not far from our camp of the 8th, but the Zanzibaris were so wedded to the belief that the natives knew their own country best, that in a fit of spleen I permitted them to rest in that opinion. About ten o'clock of the 11th we came upon the clearing and a little village we had left on the morning of the 8th. Thus we had made a complete circle, and in revenge for this the people demanded that the women should be slaughtered. Poor things, they had only acted according to their nature! It is we who were in error in supposing that the natives would show us a way leading them further and further from their own country. Were the faith continued in them they would have persisted in guiding us round about their clearings until they had dropped dead on their native earth. The women were therefore sent away home, and with compass in hand we steered a west by north course to strike the main road. We continued this course the whole of the 11th, and early next day succeeded in finding the path, which ran north by east.

At nine o'clock of the 13th July we reached our old camp on the Ituri River, opposite Ugarrowwa's station, but the place, as we looked across the river, we found to be abandoned. Therefore no news could be obtained of our long absent carriers, or of the Major and his people. We resumed our march, our course being along the 1888.
July 14.
Amiri
Falls. Ituri River, every mile, every creek, every crossing-place and every camp, well known to us.

The next day, rations all exhausted, Madis perishing by twos and threes daily, we reached Amiri Falls. No sooner was camp pitched than there was a rush for food. It was not to be obtained in the immediate vicinity, for Ugarrowwa's multitude of 600 people had preceded us and devoured every edible, and that the supply had been insufficient for them was evident by the number of skeletons in his old camp. Distance would not deter our fellows from the Nyanza; they hastened onward, pursuing a track leading southward, until finally after some hours they reached a hill the base of which was one continuous thriving plantation of plantains. At a late hour in the night they brought the good news to camp, gratified our famished eyes with a view of the prodigious fruit, which caused us all to dream ecstatically on fruity banquets of which the mellow and flavoury plantain was the most conspicuous.

Of course a halt at such a critical period within reach of such abundance was imperative, and at an early hour the camp was emptied of nearly every able hand, excepting sentries, to procure food. In the afternoon the well-furnished foragers returned, often in couples, with an immense bunch between them, like to the old engraving of Caleb and Joshua bearing the grapes of Eshcol. The more provident, however, bore larger quantities of the fruit, peeled and sliced, ready for drying, thus avoiding the superfluous stalk and plantain skin. During the absence of the foragers the weaker of the messes had erected the wooden grates and collected the fuel for the drying overnight. The fruit when thus dry could be converted into cakes, or palatable plantain porridge, or a morning's draught of plantain gruel. Many of the finest specimens were reserved to ripen to make a sweet pudding, or a sweet brew, or for sauce for the porridge.

On the 16th July we resumed our march along the river, following our old road as closely as possible, and 1888.
July 17.
Navabi
Falls. in seven hours reached the Little Rapids above Navabi Falls. On the next day passed Navabi Falls, and took a look at the place where we submerged our canoes, to discover that they had been taken away. Within four hours we arrived at our old camp at Avamburi landing-place. The path was now considerably improved, for nearly a thousand pairs of feet had trodden it since our two score of bill-hooks had first carved a passage through the bush. Many a skeleton lay along the road, and our moribund Madis were destined to add a few more to the number, for day by day they dropped down never to rise again. Nothing that we could say would prevail to induce them to provide provision for the morrow. Ten plantains they thought an inexhaustible stock, but the evening would find them hungering for more. The only other means left to save their lives was to halt as often as possible, to enable them to eat their fill. Accordingly we halted two days at Avamburi landing-place, to rest and comfort the drooping and dying Madis.

On the 20th we marched for seven and a half hours, and camped a few miles above Bafaido Cataract, losing one Zanzibari and four Madis en route. One of the latter was a chief among them, who suffered from a skewer wound in the foot. As we were starting he stated his intention to die on the spot, called his countrymen together, distributed his bracelets, anklets, shiny iron collars and ear-rings among them, and then lay down with a placid countenance, wherein not the slightest emotion was discernible. All this was very admirable, but it would have been still more admirable to have bravely struggled, than to have so doggedly died. Three hours later we discovered a canoe into which we were enabled to place a few weaklings. Before reaching camp we had found three canoes, into which we embarked nearly all the ailing ones. It would have been cruel to have halted and sent back people for the Madi chief; besides there were many chances against our finding him alive, for as soon as the rear-guard left the camp it was generally visited by hosts of natives, who 1888.
July 21.
Bafaido
Cataract. would feel no remorse for ending the feeble life of the sick man lagging behind the column.

The next day was a short march of two hours. Ugarrowwa had also halted at Bafaido Cataract, and for several days, judging from the elaborate arrangements of his large camp, which from a distance appeared like a large town, occupying the extremity of the river-head terminated by the cataract. Before arriving at Hippo Broads we were in possession of four canoes. On the next day, lunching at the cataract camp, where we buried our shovels and some articles which our weakening force could not carry, we examined the caché, and discovered that the deserters had unearthed the ten tusks of ivory, and the natives had possessed themselves of all the remaining articles. Late in the afternoon we camped at Basopo Cataract. Between the two cataracts the Zanzibaris discovered several canoes hidden away in the creeks emptying into the Ituri, and joyfully, but most recklessly, embarked in them, and notwithstanding their knowledge of the dangerous channels of the Basopo Cataract, continued on their course down the furious stream, which caused us the loss of a Zanzibari and a boy belonging to the soldiers of Emin Pasha. In the capsized canoe were also two of the Pasha's soldiers, both of whom lost their rifles and their kit, and barely escaped with their lives.

Two Zanzibaris, called Juma and Nassib, wandered away from the column and were missing this day, and we were therefore obliged to halt on the 24th to send out a party to hunt for them. In the afternoon the party returned unsuccessful, but an hour later we were startled to hear a bullet hissing over our heads. A search was made, and the culprit was found to be Nassib, who, accompanied by his friend Juma, was returning to camp, and who informed us that he had seen one of our people in the bush just outside the camp, and had fired at him, supposing him to be a prowling native. He still more astonished us when he related that the cause of his parting from the column was that he and Juma had seen some fine plantains in a 1888.
July 24.
Basopo
Cataract. plantation, and had sat down to peel and dry a supply for the road. This had consumed some eighteen hours at least, and they say that when they sought the road they could not find the track of 200 men. It is difficult to decide which compelled most admiration, the folly of these two third-rate men sitting calmly down in the midst of a plantation belonging to ferocious cannibals, who generally closed the rear of the columns to avenge themselves on the stragglers, or the alarm which in this solitary instance possessed the natives.

On the 25th we camped above the Little Rapids of Bavikai, and on the next day entered the populous district of Avé-jeli, opposite the mouth of the Nepoko affluent, taking our quarters in the village where Dr. Parke so successfully amputated the foot of an unfortunate Zanzibari thirteen months before.

I was never so sensible of the evils of forest marching as on this day. My own condition of body was so reduced, owing to the mean and miserable diet of vegetables on which I was forced to subsist, that I was more than usually sympathetic. At this time there were about thirty naked Madis in the last stages of life; their former ebon black was changed to an ashy grey hue, and all their bones stood out so fearfully prominent as to create a feeling of wonder how such skeletons were animated with the power of locomotion. Almost every individual among them was the victim of some hideous disease, and tumours, scorched backs, fœtid ulcers, were common; while others were afflicted with chronic dysentery and a wretched debility caused by insufficient food. A mere glance at them, with the mal-odour generated by ailments, caused me to gasp from a spasm of stomach sickness. With all this, the ground was rank with vegetable corruption, the atmosphere heated, stifling, dark and pregnant with the seeds of decay of myriads of insects, leaves, plants, twigs and branches. At every pace my head, neck, arms or clothes was caught by a tough creeper, calamus thorn, coarse briar, or a giant thistle-like plant, scratching and rending whatever portion they hooked on. Insects also of numberless 1888.
July 26.
Ave-jeli. species lent their aid to increase my misery, especially the polished black ant, which affects the trumpet tree. As we marched under the leaves these ants contrived to drop on the person, and their bite was more vexatious than a wasp's or red ant's; the part bitten soon swelled largely, and became white and blistery. I need not name the other species, black, yellow and red, which crossed the path in armies or clung to almost every plant and fed on every tree. These offensive sights and odours we met day after day, and each step taken was fraught with its own particular evil and annoyance, but with my present fading strength and drooping spirits, they had become almost unbearable. My mind suffered under a constant strain of anxiety respecting the fate of my twenty choice men which were despatched as couriers to the rear column under Major Barttelot, as well as of the rear column itself. I had had no meat of any kind, of bird or beast, for nearly a month, subsisting entirely on bananas or plantains, which, however varied in their treatment by the cook, failed to satisfy the jaded stomach. My muscles had become thin and flabby, and were mere cords and sinews, every limb was in a tremor while travelling, and the vitals seemed to groan in anguish for a small morsel of meat.

At camp I overheard a conversation carried on between my tent-boy Sali and another Zanzibari. The boy was saying that he believed the "Master" would not last long, how he had observed that his powers were declining fast. "Please God," said the other, "we shall find goats or fowls in a few days. It is meat he needs, and he shall get it if Ugarrowwa has not cleared out the country."

"Ah," said Sali, "if the Zanzibaris were men instead of being brutes, they would surely share with the master what meat they get while foraging. Do they not use his guns and cartridges, and are they not paid wages for using them. I can't understand why they should not share what they obtain with the master's own rifles."

"There are few here so wicked as not to do it—if they get anything worth sharing," replied the other.

1888.
July 26.
Ave-jeli. "But I know better," said Sali. "Some of the Zanzibaris find a fowl or a goat almost every day, but I do not see any of them bringing anything to the master."

At this juncture I called out to Sali, and enjoined him to tell me all he knew. By dint of questioning, the fact was elicited that there was some truth in what he had stated. Two of the Zanzibari chiefs, Murabo, of Bumbiré fame, and Wadi Mabruki, had discovered a goat and three fowls on the 25th, and had secretly eaten them. This was one of the first instances of signal ingratitude discovered in these two men. From this day the effect of the disclosure resulted in obtaining a share in the spoils. Three fowls were delivered to me before evening, and a few days later I had regained normal strength. This happy result in my own case proved what the needs of the poor naked Madis were.

A heavy stock of provisions of dried plantains was prepared at Avé-jeli, and our increasing flotilla of canoes enabled us to embark all our Madis, baggage, and half of the Zanzibari force.

We formed our next day's camp near Avugadu Rapids, and on the 27th passed the canoes over the rapids, and halted for the night a few miles below.

We lunched at our old camp, where I remained so many days while waiting and searching for the lost Expedition in August, '87, on the 30th July, and took up our night's quarters at Mabengu village.

At this village we observed about sunset an immense number of large bats, called "popo" in Swahili, sailing over our heads to their night roosts across the river. A thin riband of sky was alone visible above where I stood, and I counted 680 of the number that flew within view. As the army of bats must have spread over several miles of the forest, a rough approximation of the many thousands that were flying may be made.

On the last day of July we reached Avisibba, famous for its resistance to our advance column last year, and for the fatal effects of the poisoned arrows employed in the conflict. In one of the huts we found the top of one of our tent-poles, wrapped carefully in leaves, with a 1888.
July 31.
Avisibba. small piece of cartridge paper, a bit of green velvet from our surgical instrument case, and the brass case of a Remington cartridge. The curious package was hung up to one of the rafters, and probably consecrated to some fetish.

In another hut we discovered a collar of iron rings, and ten unfired cartridge cases. These last must have belonged to one of our unfortunate deserters, whose flesh must have simmered in a pot over a fire and formed a family repast. An old jacket was also picked up later, which deepened the probability.

Shortly after landing at the village a little naked girl about eight years old walked composedly into view and surprised us all by addressing us in the Zanzibari language.

She cried out, "It is true, then? I heard a gunshot, and I said to myself while in my hiding-place, these must be my own people, and I will go and see them, for the Pagans have no guns."

She gave her name as "Hatuna-mgini" (we have no other), and related that she and five full-grown women were abandoned by Ugarrowwa at that place because they were very sick, and that soon after Ugarrowwa had departed with his large flotilla of canoes the natives rushed in and killed the five women, but that she had run away and hidden herself, where she had remained ever since, living on raw wild fruit, but in the night she had succeeded in gathering bananas, which, when ripe, she could eat uncooked, since no fire was possible. Ugarrowwa had had a skirmish with the Avisibbas, in which he had killed a great number. He had stayed here five days preparing food, and had departed many days—"more than ten days."

A march of four and a half hours to Engweddé, and another of seven and a half hours, took us to a camp opposite an island occupied by the Bapaiya fishermen, a few miles above the Nejambi Rapids. Rifles, accoutrements, were disembarked, and the canoemen were ordered to pass their canoes down the left branch. While the land party was engaged in the portage, the 1888.
July 31.
Avisibba. majority of the canoemen preferred to take the right branch, in which act of disobediance the Zanzibari chief and five Madis lost their lives, one canoe was lost, and two others capsized, but afterwards recovered. A Zanzibari named Salim was so bruised and battered by the flood sweeping him against the rocks that he was unable to walk for nearly a month afterwards.

About 3 P.M. we resumed our journey, and arrived about 5 P.M. at Panga Falls. Leaving a detachment of them to guard the canoes, we formed camp below the Falls. The land party succeeded in finding a small supply of Indian corn, which, converted into meal, made me a porridge supper.

A downpour of rain, commencing at midnight and continuing until 1 P.M. of the 5th of August, much impeded our work, but by night we had our flotilla of nineteen canoes safe below the Falls, in front of our camp.

The natives of Panga had betaken themselves into an island near the right bank, with all their goats, fowls, and other property, but they had left several nets and wires within reach in the various branches on our side, whence we obtained some fine large fish. The natives were practically safe, inasmuch as no body of men with other business in view would incur the trouble of molesting them. They, however, manifested most plausibly a desire to make terms of amity with us by pouring water on their heads and sprinkling their bodies with it, and some of our men good-naturedly approached their island and responded reciprocally. The daring natives pushed across the cataract, and one of them contrived to draw himself unperceived near one of our men, and stabbed him in the back.

A halt was ordered the next day, and a band of forty men proceeded inland to forage, returning towards night, each with a load of eatables; but one of their number, a Madi, received a severe wound in the back with an arrow.

Our old camp opposite the confluence of the Ngula River and the Ituri was reached on the 7th in two and 1888.
Aug. 8.
Mambanga's. a half hours by the canoes, but the land party occupied eight hours in marching the distance, which I estimated at eleven miles.

At Mambanga's on the north bank, which we reached the next day, we found a good supply of food, but a Zanzibari named Jaliffi was seriously wounded with a wooden arrow in the chest. A portion an inch and a half long was embedded in the wounded part, which incapacitated him from duty for over two months. On the point of the arrow being ejected, the wound soon closed.

At Mugwye's—or My-yui—the next place, a great change had occurred. All the villages were obliterated by fire, and the fine plantain plantations cut down, and at Mugwye's own village there stood an immense camp. Believing that Ugarrowwa was present, we fired a signal shot, but no answer being returned, we proceeded to our old camp on the left bank, where on one of the trees Lieutenant Stairs had carved the date "July 31st" (1887) for the benefit of the Major.

Arriving at our old camp, we were surprised to see the body of a woman belonging to Ugarrowwa's, freshly killed and washed, laid out on the bank close to the river, and near by three bunches of plantains, two cooking-pots, and a canoe capable of carrying five people. It was evident to us that a party of natives hearing the signal shot, had decamped, and had been obliged to abandon their intended feast.

A party of men was sent across the river to reconnoitre, and in a short time they came back reporting that Ugarrowwa must have departed that same morning down the river. This was very regrettable to me, as I burned to ascertain what he had heard of the news from down river, and I also wished to beg of him not to ravage the country for the benefit of succeeding caravans, which would suffer serious loss from the wholesale havoc and devastation attending his journey.

On the 10th of August I delivered over to the care of the senior Zanzibar chief, Rashid, thirty-five of the ablest of our men, with a charge to pursue our old track 1888.
Aug. 10.
Mugwye's. along the river as I intended to descend the river with our canoe flotilla without a halt as far as Wasp Rapids, where no doubt we should overtake Ugarrowwa, and where we should stay together until he should reach us.

At 6.40 A.M. we set out, and, paddling vigorously, were in the neighbourhood of Wasp Rapids at 11 A.M. Long before we heard the roar of the rushing river over the rocky reefs which obstruct its course there, we descried an immense camp on the right bank, and in a short time the forms of men in white dresses moving about the bush. When we had approached within rifle range we fired some signal shots and hoisted our flag, which was no sooner seen than the deep boom of heavily-loaded muskets announced that we were recognized. Soon several large canoes pushed from the right bank towards us, as we were descending along the left bank, and hailed us in the Swahili language. After the usual exchange of compliments we then asked the news, and to our great joy, not unmixed with grief, we learned that our couriers, who had now been absent from us nearly six months, were in Ugarrowwa's camp. The couriers had left Lieutenant Stairs at Ugarrowwa's station on the 16th of March, and had reached Wasp Rapids in seventeen days, or on the 1st of April, where they had been driven back with a loss of four of their number. Perceiving that they were unable to pierce through the hostile crowds, they had travelled back to Ugarrowwa's station, which they reached on the 26th of April, and where they placed themselves in Ugarrowwa's hands. A month later, Ugarrowwa, having collected his people from the outlying stations, commenced his descent of the Ituri River, our couriers accompanying him, reaching Wasp Rapids on the 9th of August, having been seventy-six days en route. That same period we had occupied in travelling from the Albert Nyanza, the 10th of August being the twenty-ninth day since we had left Ugarrowwa's old station.

After forming our camp on the left bank in the deserted village of Bandeyah, opposite the camp of Ugarrowwa's, in the deserted village of Bandekiya, the 1888.
Aug. 11.
Bandeya. surviving couriers, accompanied by Ugarrowwa and his head men, visited us. Amid a deep silence the head man related his tragic story:

"Master, when you called for volunteers to bear your letter to the Major, there was not a man of us but intended to do his very best, knowing that we were all to receive a high reward and great honour if we succeeded. We have done our best, and we have failed. We have, therefore, lost both reward and honour. It is the men who have gone with you to the Nyanza and found the Pasha, and can boast of having seen him face to face, who deserve best at your hands. But if we have not succeeded in finding the Major and gladdening his heart with the good news we had to tell, God he knows it has not been through any fault of our own, but rather because it is His will that we should not do so. We have lost four of our number, and I am the only one who cannot show a wound received during the journey. We have two, who though alive, seem to be incurable from the poison in their blood. Some of our men have as many as five arrow wounds to show you. As far as Avisibba we came down the river smoothly enough, but then the sharp work soon commenced. At Engweddé two were wounded. At Panga Falls three men were most seriously hurt by arrows. Between Panga Falls and here was a continued fight day after day, night after night; the natives seemed to know long before we reached them our full strength, and set on us either in full daylight or in the darkness, as though resolved to exterminate us. Why they should show so much courage with us when they had shown themselves so cowardly when we went up with you, I cannot say, unless our deserters, coming down river by half-dozens, have enabled the Pagans to taste the flavour of Zanzibari blood, and they having succeeded so well with them, imagined they could succeed with us. However, when we reached this village wherein you are now encamped, there were only eleven of us fit for anything; all the rest were sore from their wounds and one was helpless; and soon after our coming the fight began in real earnest. Those 1888.
Aug. 11.
Bandeya. surviving couriers, accompanied by Ugarrowwa and his from that great village opposite us joined with the natives of Bandeya; the river seemed to swarm with canoes, and the bush around this village was alive with natives. After an hour's trial, during which time many of them must have been killed, for they were so crowded, especially on the river, we were left in peace. We availed ourselves in fortifying, as well as we could, the few huts we had selected for our quarters during the night.

"When night fell we placed sentries as usual, as you and Lieut. Stairs and Ugarrowwa, all of you, enjoined on us; but, wearied with work and harassed by care, our sentries must have slept, for the first thing we knew was that the natives had pulled down our zeriba and entered into the camp, and a wild cry from a man who received a fatal thrust with a spear woke us up to find them amongst us. We each grasped our rifles and fired at the nearest man, and six of them fell dead at our feet. This for a moment paralysed them; but we heard a chief's voice say, 'These men have run away from Bula Matari. Not one of them must live.' Then from the river and the bush they came on in dense crowds, which the flashes of our rifles' fire lit up, and their great numbers seemed for a short time to frighten the best of us. Lakkin, however, who is never so funny as when in trouble, shouted out, 'These fellows have come for meat—give it them, but let it be of their own people,' and wounded men and all took their rifles and took aim as though at a target. How many of them fell I cannot say; but when our cartridges were beginning to run low they ran away, and we were left to count the dead around us. Two of our men never answered to their names, a third called Jumah, the son of Nassib, called out to me, and when I went to him I found him bleeding to death. He had just strength enough to charge me to give the journey up. 'Go back,' said he. 'I give you my last words. Go back. You cannot reach the Major; therefore whatever you do, go back to Ugarrowwa's.' Having said this, he gave up his last breath, and rolled over, dead.

1888.
Aug. 11.
Bandeya. "In the morning we buried our own people, and around our zeriba there were nine natives dead, while within there were six. We beheaded the bodies, and after collecting their heads in a heap, held council together as to the best course to follow. There were seventeen of us alive, but there were now only four of us untouched by a wound. Jumah's last words rung in our ears like a warning also, and we decided to return to Ugarrowwa's. It was easier said than done. I will not weary you with details—we met trouble after trouble. Those who were wounded before were again wounded with arrows; those who were unwounded did not escape—not one excepting myself, who am by God's mercy still whole. A canoe was capsized and we lost five rifles. Ismailia was shot dead at Panga Falls. But why need we say over again what I have already said? We reached Ugarrowwa's after an absence of forty-three days. There were only sixteen of us alive, and fifteen of us were wounded. Let the scars of those wounds tell the rest of the story. We are all in God's hands and in yours. Do with us as you see fit. I have ended my words."

Among those who heard this dreadful story of trials for the first time there was scarcely a dry eye. Down many faces the tears ran copiously, and deep sighs and ejaculations of pity gushed from the sympathetic hearts. When the speaker had finished, before my verdict was given, there was a rush towards him, and hands stretched out to grasp his own, while they cried out with weeping eyes, "Thank God! thank God! You have done bravely; yes, you have shown real worth, and the mettle of men."

It was thus we welcomed our long-lost couriers, whose fate had been ever in our minds since our departure from Fort Bodo. They had been singularly unsuccessful in the object of their mission, but somehow they could not have been more honoured by us had they returned with letters from the Major. The story of their efforts and their sufferings was well told, and was rendered more effective and thrilling by the sight of the many wounds each member of the gallant band 1888.
Aug. 11.
Bandeya. had received. Through the kindness of Ugarrowwa, whose sympathies had been won by the same sad but brave story, their wounds had soon healed, with the exception of two, who though now only greatly scarred were constantly ailing and weak. I may state here that one finally recovered in the course of two months his usual strength, the other in the same time faded away and died.

In Ugarrowwa's camp were also discovered three famous deserters, and two of our convalescents who were absent foraging during Lieut. Stairs' visit. One of these deserters had marched away with a box of ammunition, another had stolen a box containing some of Emin Pasha's boots and a few pairs of my own. They had ventured into a small canoe which naturally was capsized, and they had experienced some remarkable hair-breadth escapes before they arrived at Ugarrowwa's. They had been delivered as prisoners to Lieut. Stairs, but a few days later, they again escaped to Ugarrowwa's, who was again induced to deliver them up to me. These two afterwards behaved exceedingly well, but the third, while a victim to small-pox, some few weeks later, escaped from the care of his friends and leaped into the Nejambi Rapids, where he was drowned.

Ugarrowwa, being out of powder, was more than usually kind. A notable present of four goats, four sacks of rice, and three large canoes was made to me. The goats and rice, as may be imagined, were very welcome to us, nor were the canoes a despicable gift, as I could now treble the rate of our descent down the river; for in addition to our own canoes the entire Expedition of 130 fighting men, boys, followers, and Madi, carriers, besides the baggage could be embarked.

No news had been obtained of our Rear Column by either the couriers or Ugarrowwa. The letter to the Major, which I had delivered to Ugarrowwa for despatch by his couriers last September, was now returned to me with the letters from my own couriers. He had sent forty-five men down the river, but at Manginni, about half-way between Wasp Rapids and My-yui, they 1888.
Aug. 11.
Bandeya. had been obliged to return. Thus both efforts to communicate with Major Barttelot had been unsuccessful, and could not but deepen the impression that something exceedingly awry had occurred with the Rear Column. Among the letters delivered to me by Ugarrowwa was one open. It is descriptive and amusing, and characteristic of our Doctor:—

"Fort Bodo,

"15th February, 1888.

"My dear old Barttelot,

"I hope you are 'going strong' and Jameson 'pulling double.' None of us here have any idea where you are. Some of us officers and men say you are on the way up river, others say you are still at Yambuya, unable to move with a large number of loads, and amongst the men there is an idea that your Zanzibaris may have gone over to Tippu-Tib. Stanley reached the Lake 14th December, 1887, but could not communicate with Emin Pasha. As he had not got his boat, he then came back from the Lake into the bush, and made this fort to store his baggage, while he again goes on to the Lake with Jephson and boat. Stairs goes to Ugarrowwa's to-morrow with twenty men, who are to go on to you and who bring this letter. Stairs returns here with about forty or fifty men who were left at Ugarrowwa's, and then goes on after Stanley, as the place is only 80 or 100 miles from the Lake. I am to stay at this fort with forty or fifty men. Nelson, who has been ailing for months, therefore also remains here. We had an awful time coming here. I often said I was starved at school, but it was stuffing compared with what we have gone through. I am glad to say all the white men are very fit, but the mortality amongst the men was enormous, something like 50 per cent. Up to Ugarrowwa's there is plenty of food, but little or none along the river this side of Ugarrowwa's. Stanley, I know, is writing you all about the starvation and the road. To-day, Stanley fell in all the men, and asked them all if they wanted to go to the Lake or go back for you. Most of the men at first wanted to go back, but afterwards the majority were for the Lake; both Stairs, Jephson, and myself were for the Lake, so as to decide if Emin Pasha was alive or not, so as not to bring your column up all this way and then go back to Muta Nzigé. All the men are as fat as butter, some of them, however, who stayed with me at an Arab camp for three months, where I was left to look after Nelson, and sick men, and boxes, etc., are reduced to skin and bone. Out of thirty-eight, eleven died of starvation. Stairs was the only officer wounded, but many of the men died from their wounds.

"We are all in a bad way for boots; none of us have a good pair. I have made two pairs, but they did not last long, and all my clothes have been stolen by 'Rehani,' a Zanzibari. Stanley has had me working hard all day, and I have only time to write these few lines as the sun is going down. Our party have lost and sold a great quantity of ammunition.

"Give my best wishes to old Jameson, also the other fellows whom I know; and hoping to see you up here before long,

"Believe me, yours very sincerely,

"J. H. P.

"We are all awfully sick of this 'bush'; it continues to within a few miles of the Lake."

1888.
Aug. 12.
Batundu. The next day was a halt. The senior Chief Rashid and his land party did not arrive before 2 P.M. of the 11th. The current had carried our flotilla in five hours, a journey which occupied him fifteen hours' march. But on the 12th of August, having safely passed the canoes below the rapids, we embarked at noon and proceeded down river. Opposite Elephant-playground camp we met one of Ugarrowwa's scouting canoes ascending, the men of which related wonderful stories of the strength, fierceness, and boldness of the Batundu natives. Two hours later the Batundu drums announced our advent on the river; but when their canoes advanced to reckon the number of our vessels, they quietly retired, and we occupied their chief village in peace, and slept undisturbed during the night.

At S. Mupé we arrived on the 13th, and halted one day to prepare food for our further journey down river, but on the next day, the 15th, we passed the flotilla safely down the various rapids, and camped below the lowest Mariri Rapids.

Resuming the journey on the 16th, we floated and paddled past three of our land march camps, and on a large island possessing huts sufficient to accommodate 2,000 people we halted for the night. Both banks of the river were unpeopled and abandoned, but no one could impart any reason for this wholesale devastation. Our first thought was that our visit had perhaps caused their abandonment, but as the natives had occupied their respective villages in view of the rear guard, we concluded that probably some internecine war was the cause.

This day was the eighty-third since we had departed from the shores of the Albert Nyanza, and the sixtieth since we had left Fort Bodo. Our progress had been singularly successful. Of the naked Madi carriers we had lost a great many, nearly half of the number that we had departed from the Nyanza with; but of the hardened and acclimatised Zanzibaris we had lost but three, two of whom were by drowning, and one was missing through a fit of spleen. Five hundred and 1888.
Aug. 16.
Bungangeta. sixty miles of the journey had been accomplished, there were only ninety miles remaining between Bungangeta Island and Yambuya, yet not a rumour of any kind had been heard respecting the fate of our friends and followers of the rear column. This constant and unsatisfied longing, pressing on my mind with a weight as of lead, with the miserable unnourishing diet of dry plantains, was fast reducing me into an aged and decrepit state of mind and body. That old buoyant confident feeling which had upheld me so long had nearly deserted me quite. I sat near sunset by the waterside alone, watching the sun subside lower and lower before the horizon of black foliage that bounded Makubana, the limits of my view. I watched the ashen grey clouds preceding the dark calm of night, and I thought it represented but too faithfully the melancholy which I could not shake off. This day was nearly twelve months from the date the rear column should have set out from Yambuya—365 days. Within this period 100 carriers only might have been able to have advanced as far as Bungangeta, even if they had to make seven round trips backwards and forwards? What could possibly have happened except wholesale desertion caused by some misunderstanding between the officers and men? In the darkness I turned into my tent, but in my nervous and highly-strung state could find no comfort there; and at last I yielded and implored the all-seeing and gracious Providence to restore to me my followers and companions, and allay the heartache that was killing me.

At the usual hour on the 17th, we embarked in our canoes and resumed our journey down the river, paddling languidly as we floated. It was a sombre morning; a heavy greyness of sky painted the eternal forest tops of a sombrous mourning colour. As we glided past Bungangeta district we observed that the desolation had not been confined to it, but that Makubana also had shared the same fate; and soon after coming in view of the mighty curve of Banalya, which south or left bank had been so populous, we observed that the district of the Banalya had also been included. But about half-past 1888.
Aug. 17.
Banalya. nine we saw one village, a great way down through the light mist of the morning, still standing, which we supposed was the limit of the devastation. But as we drew near we discovered that it had a stockade. In July 1887, when we passed up, Banalya was deemed too powerful to need a stockade. Presently white dresses were seen, and quickly taking up my field glass, I discovered a red flag hoisted. A suspicion of the truth crept into my mind. A light puff of wind unrolled the flag for an instant, and the white crescent and star was revealed. I sprang to my feet and cried out, "The Major, boys! Pull away bravely." A vociferous shouting and hurrahing followed, and every canoe shot forward at racing speed.

VIEW OF BANALYA CURVE.

About 200 yards from the village we stopped paddling, and as I saw a great number of strangers on the shore, I asked, "Whose men are you?" "We are Stanley's men," was the answer delivered in mainland Swahili. 1888.
Aug. 17.
Banalya. But assured by this, and still more so as we recognised a European near the gate, we paddled ashore. The European on a nearer view turned out to be Mr. William Bonny, who had been engaged as doctor's assistant to the Expedition.

Pressing his hand, I said,

"Well, Bonny, how are you? Where is the Major? Sick, I suppose?"

"The Major is dead, sir."

"Dead? Good God! How dead? Fever?"

"No, sir, he was shot."

"By whom?"

"By the Manyuema—Tippu-Tib's people."

"Good heavens! Well, where is Jameson?"

"At Stanley Falls."

"What is he doing there, in the name of goodness?"

"He went to obtain more carriers."

"Well then, where is Mr. Ward, or Mr. Troup?"

"Mr. Ward is at Bangala."

"Bangala! Bangala! what can he be doing there?"

"Yes, sir, he is at Bangala, and Mr. Troup has been invalided home some months ago."

These queries, rapidly put and answered as we stood by the gate at the water side, prepared me to hear as deplorable a story as could be rendered of one of the most remarkable series of derangements that an organized body of men could possibly be plunged into.

Despite Mr. Bonny's well written report of the events which had occurred, it was many days before I could find time to study and understand the details. The strangers I had observed belonged to Tippu-Tib, and they now pressed congratulations upon our arrival, and our people hurrying in through the narrow gate with the baggage from the canoes, bawling out recognition of their friends, leaping with joy, or howling with grief, made Banalya Camp indescribably tumultuous.

Let us imagine the baggage stored orderly, the canoes lashed to stakes firmly driven in the bank, the congratulations of the strangers over, the Zanzibaris of the advance column departed from our immediate 1888.
Aug. 17.
Banalya. vicinity to seek their long-lost friends and to hear the news, the Soudanese and Zanzibari survivors of the rear column having uttered their fervid thanks that we had at last—at last, thank God—come, and such letters as had arrived hastily read, despatches hastily written, sent by couriers to Stanley Falls, one for Tippu-Tib himself, and one for the Committee of the Relief Fund, and we shall be at liberty to proceed with the story of the rear column, as gathered from Mr. Bonny's reports oral and written, and from the surviving Soudanese soldiers and Zanzibaris, and we shall then see how the facts differed or agreed with our anticipations.

MEETING WITH THE REAR COLUMN AT BANALYA.