It is only justice to
Ibrahim to say, that, although he had been my great enemy when at
Gondokoro in 1863, he had always behaved well since peace was
established at Ellyria; and, although by nature and profession a
slave-hunter, like others of the White Nile, he had frequently yielded
to my interference to save the lives of natives who would otherwise have
been massacred without pity.
I had gained an extraordinary influence over all these ruffianly people.
Everything that I had promised them had been more than performed; all
that I had foretold had been curiously realized. They now acknowledged
how often I had assured them that the slave-trade would be suppressed by
the interference of European powers, and the present ruin of their trade
was the result; they all believed that I was the cause, by having
written from Gondokoro to the Consul-general of Egypt in 1863, when the
traders had threatened to drive me back. Far from retaliating upon me,
they were completely cowed. The report had been spread throughout
Gondokoro by Ibrahim and his people that their wonderful success in
ivory hunting was chiefly due to me; that their sick had been cured;
that good luck had attended their party; that disaster had befallen all
who had been against me; and that no one had suffered wrong at our
hands. With the resignation of Mahommedans they yielded to their
destiny, apparently without any ill-feeling against us. Crowds lined the
cliff and the high ground by the old ruins of the mission station to see
us depart. We pushed off from shore into the powerful current; the
English flag that had accompanied us all through our wanderings now
fluttered proudly from the masthead unsullied by defeat, and amidst the
rattle of musketry we glided rapidly down the river, and soon lost sight
of Gondokoro.
What were our feelings at that moment? Overflowing with gratitude to a
Divine Providence that had supported us in sickness, and guided us
through all dangers. There had been moments of hopelessness and despair;
days of misery, when the future had appeared dark and fatal; but we had
been strengthened in our weakness, and led, when apparently lost, by an
unseen hand. I felt no triumph, but with a feeling of calm contentment
and satisfaction we floated down the Nile. My great joy was in the
meeting that I contemplated with Speke in England, I had so thoroughly
completed the task we had agreed upon.
Silently and easily we floated down the river; the oars keeping us in
midstream. The endless marshes no longer looked so mournful as we glided
rapidly past, and descended the current against which we had so
arduously laboured on our ascent to Gondokoro. As we thus proceeded on
our voyage through the monotonous marshes and vast herds of hippopotami
that at this season thronged the river, I had ample leisure to write my
letters for England, to be posted on arrival at Khartoum, and to look
back upon the results of the last few years.
