Sometimes the horses
sank nearly hock-deep in mud, which in the pitch darkness they could not
avoid. In such places it required the force of thirty men to drag the
gun, and the delays became serious. Lieutenant-Colonel Tayib Agha
commanded the three companies of Soudani troops who escorted the
field-piece, and took it in turns to assist the artillerymen in the
weary work of dragging the gun through swamps and bush.
The night wore on; it began to rain. I was riding in advance with
Lieutenant Baker, Mr. Higginbotham, and twenty of the "Forty Thieves,"
while Raouf Bey followed me with fifty Egyptian troops. It was
absolutely necessary to push on. Tayib Agha had a native guide,
therefore he and his gun could take care of themselves. Accordingly I
pushed on ahead as an advanced guard, delighted to be quit of the
impediment of artillery.
In about an hour we arrived at firm ground, and the country became more
open and undulating. The clouds began to break and the rain ceased. We
pushed briskly forward until, after marching at the pace of four miles
per hour, the guide, Sherroom, suddenly halted. We were now in a clear
space where a few large trees grew in a clump upon our right. Sherroom,
who evidently knew every inch of the country, whispered that we must
wait here in silence, as there were villages not far off, and the
stockade that we were to attack was in the immediate neighbourhood. It
was nearly 5 A.M., and although we had marched since one o'clock, we
were not more than nine miles from Gondokoro. I trusted that our halt
would allow the rear to join us with the gun which had caused so much
delay.
We waited for about half-an-hour in perfect silence. There was not a
star upon the sky, which was dark and murky, thus we could distinguish
nothing. At length the black night began to grow more grey, and we could
just make out some dark masses, that appeared to be villages, upon the
right and left. We now marched rapidly, but without the slightest noise.
The morning grew greyer, and birds began to whistle. We could
distinguish trees and the tall crops of dhurra.
There was no sign of Tayib Agha and his detachment, but it was
absolutely necessary to push forward.
We were thus hurrying on, sometimes through cultivated fields, at others
through strips of forest, when we suddenly heard the long shrill cry
that is the native signal of danger. This was from a Bari watchman, who,
more awake than those by whom we must have passed unobserved, now gave
the alarm. This cry was immediately repeated in various directions.
There was no time to be lost.
