It was the middle of November - not the wretched month that chills even
the recollection of Old England, but the last of the ten months of rain
that causes the wonderful vegetation of the fertile soil in Equatorial
Africa. The Turks were ready to return to Shooa, and I longed for the
change from this brutal country to the still wilder but less bloody
tribe of Madi, to the north.
The quantity of ivory in camp was so large that we required 700 porters
to carry both tusks and provisions, &c. for the five days' march through
uninhabited country. Kamrasi came to see us before we parted; he had
provided the requisite porters. We were to start on the following day;
he arrived with the Blissett rifle that had been given him by Speke. He
told me that he was sorry we were going; and he was much distressed that
he had burst his rifle! - he had hammered a large bullet in the endeavour
to fit the bore; and the lump of lead having stuck in the middle, he had
fired his rifle and split the barrel, which being of remarkably good
metal had simply opened. He told me that it did not matter so very much
after all, as he had neither powder nor ball (this was false, as Ibrahim
had just given him a quantity), therefore his rifle would have been
useless if sound; but he added, "You are now going home, where you can
obtain all you require, therefore you will want for nothing; give me,
before you leave, the little double-barrelled rifle that YOU PROMISED
me, and a supply of ammunition!" To the last moment he was determined to
persevere in his demand, and, if possible, to obtain my handy little
Fletcher 24 rifle, that had been demanded and refused ever since my
residence in his country.
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