We started June
30th, and reached Berber, from which point, four years before, I had set
out on my Atbara expedition.
I determined upon the Red Sea route to Egypt, instead of passing the
horrible Korosko desert during the hot month of August. After some delay
I procured camels, and started east for Souakim, where I hoped to
procure a steamer to Suez.
There was no steamer upon our arrival. After waiting in intense heat for
about a fortnight, the Egyptian thirty-two-gun steam frigate Ibrahimeya
arrived with a regiment of Egyptian troops, under Giaffer Pacha, to
quell the mutiny of the black troops at Kassala, twenty days' march in
the interior. Giaffer Pacha most kindly placed the frigate at our
disposal to convey us to Suez.
Orders for sailing had been received; but suddenly a steamer was
signalled as arriving. This was a transport, with troops. As she was to
return immediately to Suez, I preferred the dirty transport rather than
incur a further delay. We started from Souakim, and after five days'
voyage we arrived at Suez. Landing from the steamer, I once more found
myself in an English hotel.
The hotel was thronged with passengers to India, with rosy, blooming
English ladies and crowds of my own countrymen. I felt inclined to talk
to everybody. Never was I so in love with my own countrymen and women;
but they (I mean the ladies) all had large balls of hair at the backs of
their heads! What an extraordinary change! I called Richarn, my pet
savage from the heart of Africa, to admire them. "Now, Richarn, look at
them!" I said. "What do you think of the English ladies? eh, Richarn?
Are they not lovely?"
"Wah Illahi!" exclaimed the astonished Richarn, "they are beautiful!
What hair! They are not like the negro savages, who work other people's
hair into their own heads; theirs is all real - all their own - how
beautiful!"
"Yes, Richarn," I replied, "ALL THEIR OWN!" This was my first
introduction to the "chignon."
We arrived at Cairo, and I established Richarn and his wife in a
comfortable situation as private servants to Mr. Zech, the master of
Sheppard's Hotel. The character I gave him was one that I trust has done
him service. He had shown an extraordinary amount of moral courage in
totally reforming from his original habit of drinking. I left my old
servant with a heart too full to say good-by, a warm squeeze of his
rough but honest black hand, and the whistle of the train sounded - we
were off!
I had left Richarn, and none remained of my people. The past appeared
like a dream; the rushing sound of the train renewed ideas of
civilization. Had I really come from the Nile Sources? It was no dream.
A witness sat before me - a face still young, but bronzed like an Arab by
years of exposure to a burning sun, haggard and worn with toil and
sickness, and shaded with cares happily now past, the devoted companion
of my pilgrimage, to whom I owed success and life - my wife.
I had received letters from England, that had been waiting at the
British Consulate. The first I opened informed me that the Royal
Geographical Society had awarded me the Victoria Gold Medal, at a time
when they were unaware whether I was alive or dead, and when the success
of my expedition was unknown. This appreciation of my exertions was the
warmest welcome that I could have received on my first entrance into
civilization after so many years of savagedom. It rendered the
completion of the Nile Sources doubly grateful, as I had fulfilled the
expectations that the Geographical Society had so generously expressed
by the presentation of their medal BEFORE my task was done.
End of In the Heart of Africa, by Samuel White Baker
