A Narrative Of Captivity In Abyssinia With Some Account Of The Late Emperor Theodore, His Country And People By Henry Blanc
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On Our Return To Magdala We Were Hailed By
Our Servants, And The Few Friends We Had On The Mountain, As Men
Who Had Returned From The Grave.
We sent for our tents, bedding,
&c., and awaited with anxiety the next move of the fickle despot.
About noon the whole of the garrison of the Amba were told to arm
and proceed to the King's camp; a few old men only and the ordinary
prisoners' guard remaining on the mountain. Between 3 and 4 P.M. a
violent thunder-storm burst over the Amba. We thought now and then
that we could distinguish amidst the peals of thunder distant guns,
and some close at hand. At other times we were almost certain that
the sound we had just heard was a volley; but we only laughed at
the idea, and wondered how the echoes of the almost constant thunder
could to our excited imagination bear such close resemblance to the
welcome music of an attack by the army of rescue. Shortly after 4
P.M. the storm subsided, and then no mistake was possible; the deep,
dull sound of guns, and the sharp reports of small arms, now reached
us plainly and distinctly. But what was it? No one would or could
say. Twice during the next hour the joyous elelta resounded
from Islamgee to the Amba above, where it was responded to by the
soldiers' families. Then all doubts vanished: evidently the King
was only "fakering;" no fight could have taken place, as no
elelta would be heard if Theodore had ventured to encounter
the British troops.
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