It was the 8th of April, and within a few
days the boats upon which we depended for our return to civilization
would assuredly quit Gondokoro. I offered the natives all the beads that
I had (about 50 lbs.) and the whole of my baggage, if they would carry
us to Shooa directly from this spot. We were in perfect despair, as we
were both completely worn out with fever and fatigue, and certain death
seemed to stare us in the face should we remain in this unhealthy spot.
Worse than death was the idea of losing the boats and becoming prisoners
for another year in this dreadful land, which must inevitably happen
should we not hurry directly to Gondokoro without delay. The natives
with their usual cunning at length offered to convey us to Shooa,
provided that I paid them the beads in advance. The boats were prepared
to ferry us across the river; but I fortunately discovered through the
woman Bacheeta their treacherous intention of placing us on the
uninhabited wilderness on the north side, and leaving us to die of
hunger. They had conspired together to land us, but to return
immediately with the boats after having thus got rid of the incubus of
their guests.
We were in a great dilemma. Had we been in good health, I would have
forsaken everything but the guns and ammunition, and have marched
directly to Gondokoro on foot; but this was utterly impossible. Neither
my wife nor I could walk a quarter of a mile without fainting. There was
no guide, and the country was now overgrown with impenetrable grass and
tangled vegetation eight feet high. We were in the midst of the rainy
season - not a day passed without a few hours of deluge. Altogether it
was a most heart-breaking position. Added to the distress of mind at
being thus thwarted, there was also a great scarcity of provision. Many
of my men were weak, the whole party having suffered much from fever; in
fact, we were completely helpless.
Our guide, Rabonga, who had accompanied us from M'rooli, had absconded,
and we were left to shift for ourselves. I was determined not to remain
on the island, as I suspected that the boats might be taken away, and
that we should be kept prisoners; I therefore ordered my men to take the
canoes, and to ferry us to the main land, from whence we had come. The
headman, upon hearing this order, offered to carry us to a village, and
then to await orders from Kamrasi as to whether we were to be forwarded
to Shooa or not. The district in which the island of Patooan was
situated was called Shooa Moru, although having no connection with the
Shooa in the Madi country to which we were bound.
We were ferried across to the main shore, and my wife and I, in our
respective angareps, were carried by the natives for about three miles.
Arriving at a deserted village, half of which was in ashes, having been
burned and plundered by the enemy, we were deposited on the ground in
front of an old hut in the pouring rain, and were informed that we
should remain there that night, but that on the following morning we
should proceed to our destination.
Not trusting the natives, I ordered my men to disarm them, and to retain
their spears and shields as security for their appearance on the
following day. This effected, we were carried into a filthy hut about
six inches deep in mud, as the roof was much out of repair, and the
heavy rain had flooded it daily for some weeks. I had a canal cut
through the muddy floor, and in misery and low spirits we took
possession.
On the following morning not a native was present! We had been entirely
deserted; although I held the spears and shields, every man had
absconded. There were neither inhabitants nor provisions. The whole
country was a wilderness of rank grass that hemmed us in on all sides.
Not an animal, nor even a bird, was to be seen; it was a miserable,
damp, lifeless country. We were on elevated ground, and the valley of
the Somerset was about two miles to our north, the river roaring
sullenly in its obstructed passage, its course marked by the double belt
of huge dark trees that grew upon its banks.
My men naturally felt outraged and proposed that we should return to
Patooan, seize the canoes, and take provisions by force, as we had been
disgracefully deceived. The natives had merely deposited us here to get
us out of the way, and in this spot we might starve. Of course I would
not countenance the proposal of seizing provisions, but I directed my
men to search among the ruined villages for buried corn, in company with
the woman Bacheeta, who, being a native of this country, would be up to
the ways of the people, and might assist in the discovery.
After some hours passed in rambling over the black ashes of several
villages that had been burned, they discovered a hollow place, by
sounding the earth with a stick, and, upon digging, arrived at a granary
of the seed known as "tullaboon;" this was a great prize, as, although
mouldy and bitter, it would keep us from starving. The women of the
party were soon hard at work grinding, as many of the necessary stones
had been found among the ruins.
Fortunately there were three varieties of plants growing wild in great
profusion, that, when boiled, were a good substitute for spinach; thus
we were rich in vegetables, although without a morsel of fat or animal
food. Our dinner consisted daily of a mess of black porridge of bitter
mouldy flour that no English pig would condescend to notice, and a large
dish of spinach.
