This greatly interested the Bari visitors,
who, by my special invitation, had been residing for some time at
Gondokoro.
The dry season had been very unfavourable for cotton; nevertheless, the
quality was good, and proved that it would thrive in the locality. The
species that was indigenous grew to a great size, and seemed to defy the
drought. This bore a red blossom, and the pod was small. The native
cotton was of short staple, and adhered strongly to the seed.
On 29th November, two Arabs arrived from Abou Saood's Latooka station,
100 miles east of Gondokoro: they had travelled at night, and were
deserters from the vakeel. One of these fellows turned out to be my old
follower during my former journey, Mohammed the camel-driver, and he
literally cried with joy when he saw my wife and me again. He gave me
all the news from the slave-traders' camp, which was full of slaves, and
they were afraid that I might arrive, as they were aware that I knew the
road. The vakeel of Latooka had received and harboured two of my
Egyptian soldiers, who had deserted from Gondokoro and joined the
slave-hunters under the guidance of a Bari.
On 1st December, Lieutenant Baker shot a fine bull elephant, with very
large tusks; this was within four miles of head-quarters. At this
season they were very numerous in the neighbourhood of Gondokoro. During
my absence to the south of Regiaf, there had been a curious nocturnal
alarm in the station.
Upon a fine moonlight night the sentries were astonished by the
appearance of two immense bull elephants, that, having marched along the
cliff, took the fort in the rear on the river side.
The fort was a redan, open at the river base; thus, unheeding the
sentry, the elephants coolly walked into the centre. The sentry's musket
was immediately responded to by the guard; the buglers, startled by a
sharp fire of musketry, blew the alarm.
The elephants, now alarmed in their turn, rushed onwards, but upon
ascending the earthwork, they were met by a deep yawning ditch, which
they could not cross. The whole force turned out, and the attack on the
thick-skinned intruders became general. The bullets flew so wildly that
it was more dangerous for bystanders than for the elephants.
In the mean while, the panic-stricken animals charged wildly in all
directions, but were invariably stopped by the ditch and rampart, until
at last they happened to find the right direction, and retreated by
their original entrance, most probably not much the worse for the
adventure.
Mr. Higginbotham, who gave me this account, described the excitement of
the troops as so intense, that they let their muskets off completely at
random:
