We Were Encamped At A Small Village On The Shore Of The Lake, Called
Vacovia.
On the following morning not one of our party could rise from
the ground.
Thirteen men, the boy Saat, four women, besides my wife and
me, were all down with fever. The natives assured us that all strangers
suffered in a like manner. The delay in supplying boats was most
annoying, as every hour was precious. The lying natives deceived us in
every possible manner, delaying us purposely in hope of extorting beads.
The latitude of Vacovia was 1"degree" 15' N.; longitude 30 "degrees" 50'
E. My farthest southern point on the road from M'rooli was latitude 1
"degree" 13'. We were now to turn our faces toward the north, and every
day's journey would bring us nearer home. But where was home? As I
looked at the map of the world, and at the little red spot that
represented old England far, far away, and then gazed on the wasted form
and haggard face of my wife and at my own attenuated frame, I hardly
dared hope for home again. We had now been three years ever toiling
onward, and having completed the exploration of all the Abyssinian
affluents of the Nile, in itself an arduous undertaking, we were now
actually at the Nile head. We had neither health nor supplies, and the
great journey lay all before us.
Eight days were passed at Vacovia before we could obtain boats, which,
when they did come, proved to be mere trees neatly hollowed out in the
shape of canoes.
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