"No Useless Coffin Inclosed His Breast,
Nor In Sheet Nor In Shroud We Wound Him;
But He Lay Like A Pilgrim Taking His Rest,
With His Mantle Drawn Around Him."
This is a mournful commencement of the voyage.
Poor fellow, I did all I
could for him although that was but little; and hands far more tender
than mine ministered to his last necessities. This sad event closes the
year 1862. Made sail at 8.30 p.m., the repairs of ship being completed.
1863, Jan. 1st, 2 o'clock a.m. - Melancholy thoughts preventing sleep,
I have watched the arrival of the new year. Thank God for His blessings
during the past, and may He guide us through the untrodden path before
us! We arrived at the village of Mahomed Her in the Shillook country.
This man is a native of Dongola, who, having become a White Nile
adventurer, established himself among the Shillook tribe with a band of
ruffians, and is the arch-slaver of the Nile. The country, as usual, a
dead flat: many Shillook villages on west bank all deserted, owing to
Mahomed Her's plundering. This fellow now assumes a right of territory,
and offers to pay tribute to the Egyptian Government, thus throwing a
sop to Cerberus to prevent intervention. Course S.W. The river in clear
water about seven hundred yards wide, but sedge on the east bank for a
couple of miles in width.
2d Jan. - The "Clumsy" lagging, come to grief again, having once more
sprung her rotten yard.
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