Speke, Who Could Scarcely Breathe From The Pain
Of The Blow, Asked A Captor To Tie His Hands Before, Instead Of Behind,
And Begged A Drop Of Water To Relieve His Excruciating Thirst.
The savage
defended him against a number of the Somal who came up threatening and
brandishing their spears, he brought a cloth for the wounded man to lie
upon, and lost no time in procuring a draught of water.
Lieut. Speke remained upon the ground till dawn. During the interval he
witnessed the war-dance of the savages--a scene striking in the extreme.
The tallest and largest warriors marched in a ring round the tents and
booty, singing, with the deepest and most solemn tones, the song of
thanksgiving. At a little distance the grey uncertain light disclosed four
or five men, lying desperately hurt, whilst their kinsmen kneaded their
limbs, poured water upon their wounds, and placed lumps of dates in their
stiffening hands. [11] As day broke, the division of plunder caused angry
passions to rise. The dead and dying were abandoned. One party made a rush
upon the cattle, and with shouts and yells drove them off towards the
wild, some loaded themselves with goods, others fought over pieces of
cloth, which they tore with hand and dagger, whilst the disappointed,
vociferating with rage, struck at one another and brandished their spears.
More than once during these scenes, a panic seized them; they moved off in
a body to some distance; and there is little doubt that had our guard
struck one blow, we might still have won the day.
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