We Arrived At The Village Of Wat Shely, Only Three
Days From Khartoum.
Saat was dying.
The night passed, and I expected
that all would be over before sunrise; but as morning dawned a change
had taken place; the burning fever had left him, and, although raised
blotches had broken out upon his chest and various parts of his body, he
appeared much better. We now gave him stimulants; a teaspoonful of araki
that we had bought at Fashooder was administered every ten minutes on a
lump of sugar. This he crunched in his mouth, while he gazed at my wife
with an expression of affection; but he could not speak. I had him well
washed and dressed in clean clothes, that had been kept most carefully
during the voyage, to be worn on our entree to Khartoum. He was laid
down to sleep upon a clean mat, and my wife gave him a lump of sugar to
moisten his mouth and relieve his thickly-furred tongue. His pulse was
very weak, and his skin cold. "Poor Saat," said my wife, "his life hangs
upon a thread. We must nurse him most carefully; should he have a
relapse, nothing will save him."
An hour passed, and he slept. Karka, the fat, good-natured slave woman,
quietly went to his side; gently taking him by the ankles and knees, she
stretched his legs into a straight position, and laid his arms parallel
with his sides. She then covered his face with a cloth, one of the few
rags that we still possessed.
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