CHAPTER XXX.

The departure was not effected quite so easily as might have been anticipated. The de Guéran caravan, whilst the Europeans were laying their plans, had been making some of its own, and these plans consisted in resting until the evening, and then joining the Monbuttoos for the purpose of celebrating a united orgie on a gigantic scale in honour of the victory. As an exceptional case, and contrary to all their habits, the negroes were taking thought of the future, and had come to the conclusion that their chiefs intended to indulge them with a long spell of idleness. Had they not found the white man they had been seeking for so long? Had not the object of the journey been attained, and, before retracing their steps along the road by which they had come, were not both soldiers and porters entitled to make a long stay in the conquered country, the country of lovely women whose charms had been vaunted to arouse their zeal? These women were terrible in battle—that they had found out to their cost, but now that they were conquered and disarmed, they might possibly be found to possess an amount of amiability hitherto unsuspected.

Consequently, when an attempt was made to rouse the Nubians from their day-dreams, and warn them to be ready to start at once, some very significant murmuring was heard. Although, owing to the mingled firmness and tact of M. de Morin, the soldiers had learnt discipline, though for more than a year they had proved themselves to be faithful and devoted servants, and had become almost civilized by contact with the Europeans, as soon as a disposition was shown to rob them of the fruits of their victory and to restrain them from the indulgence of their ruling passion, they became what they were before — unreasonable, unmanageable and mutinous.

Their leaders had, in the long run, gained too great an ascendancy over them not to be able to overcome this resistance, which, after all, was more a matter of instinct than of reason. They made them understand that the hour for repose was not yet come, and that the Walindis might yet collect their scattered forces and attack them again. They showed them the heaps of dead bodies lying all around, and hinted that they too were still liable to share the fate of their friends. But, as soon as they comprehended that, instead of regaining the road to the north and going back to their own country, they were to scale the mountain range and go on southwards, they made fresh objections. It was all over with them! They would never more set eyes on the Dinka land, or their beloved Nubia, or the dear old Nile! When the Europeans arrived at the end of their journey, so far, far away, they would leave them to their fate, and how were they to get back to Khartoum?

These complaints were reasonable enough up to a certain point. The bearers and soldiers, it is true, had been engaged to follow their leaders whithersoever it might please the latter to go, but nobody then foresaw so long a journey. The return, indeed, would be a matter of considerable diflficulty for everybody, if these men were taken as far as Zanzibar.

"Why should we go there at all?" M. de Pommerelle was the first to suggest. "The journey is a long one, and it took us more than six months to accomplish it. How are we to get across Lake Albert again on our rafts? They did very well for us, because the current took us from east to west, but when it becomes a question of going against the current, what are our means of transport? Can we rely upon the inhabitants of Magungo, who saluted our departure with flights of arrows, sending their canoes to bring us over to the eastern side?"

"And even supposing," continued Dr. Desrioux, "that we manage to get across the lake, I dread the effect of the long journey and the unhealthy climate of certain parts of the country upon M. de Guéran."

"You have, I suppose," asked M. Périères, "some other route to propose?"

"Certainly I have. As soon as we have rejoined our caravan on the shore of the Albert Nyanza, there is nothing to prevent our remaining on the western side, and proceeding northwards to Gondokoro, as Baker, Speke, and Grant did. We are now in lat. 2° N., and Gondokoro, or Ismailia, is about 5°. It is a mere question of 3°, or, in other words, seventy-five leagues, a matter of six weeks at most. That is evidently the shortest way."

"Undoubtedly," said M. de Morin, "seeing that we are at least 8° from Zanzibar. But, when once we have reached that island we should be, as it were, at home again, because we could take ship there and steam to Europe."

"At Gondokoro," replied Dr. Desrioux, "we can hire a vessel. We shall then descend the Nile and set sail for France after a more direct fashion still."

"The proposed route appears to me to be an excellent one," said M. Périères, as if to close the discussion, "and I move that it be adopted. It has, moreover, one considerable advantage; it will enable us to overcome all the objections of our Nubians and Dinkas. We shall be taking them home in a straight line, and, if they so wish, we can drop them at their respective doors. Will you allow me to make this arrangement with them?"

MM. de Morin and Delange gave their consent, and M. de Pommerelle could not help being charmed at such a resolution.

"After having done so much," said he, "to come to Africa, I should have been in despair at having seen so little and being obliged to go back the same way. It is bad enough to be deprived of all chance of a peep at the countries of the Monbuttoos, the Niam-Niam, and the Bongos, but you must tell me all about them, and T will try to console myself."

"I will console you," said Miss Poles, accompanying her words by one of her most seductive smiles. "I will talk to you about King Kadjoro, a very charming man, and about his royal brother Munza, of whom I will not say one word in disparagement—his tomb is too close to us."

"Mind you tell him _all_ your adventures," said Dr. Delange, with a laugh.

"I will not forget anything, sir," replied Miss Poles, in a tone of pique. "A man like M. de Pommerelle is worthy of truth."

As she said the words—M. de Pommerelle—she plumed herself to such a degree, that there was no disguising the fact that he had made a great impression upon her.

Whilst this conversation was going on, M. Périères unfolded to Nassar and the Arab interpreters the plan of action he was about to adopt. They understood it at once, and undertook to explain it to the caravan.

After having settled matters with the Khartoum people, an arrangement had to be made with the Zanzibar contingent. When the latter heard of the proposed route, they began to grumble—"What was to become of them? How were they to get back from Gondokoro to the coast and their own country?" In reality, they had very little cause for complaint, as most of them had already made the trip, the central point in which is Lake Victoria, but they hoped, by means of grumbling, to secure an increase in their wages. They got what they wanted, for there was no dispensing with these fifty men, well armed and just calculated to fill up the gaps created by death in the de Guéran expedition.

Towards four o'clock in the afternoon, by dint of mingled arguments, threats and promises, the last efforts at resistance on the part of the two caravans were successfully overcome. Active preparations for departure were at once set on foot; the torn sacks were sewn up, cases closed again, and arms collected. The provisions and absolutely indispensable baggage were next got together, everything too cumbersome to be easily transported being left behind. Masters and servants, men and women, all concerned, worked their very hardest, Madame de Guéran alone remaining with her husband, whilst Queen Walinda, whose bonds had been made still more secure, lay motionless on the ground.

M. de Morin, on making a survey of this army of labourers, at length noticed that Joseph was _non est_. He had satisfied himself some time previously, when inspecting the field of battle, that his faithful servant was not amongst the killed, and, reassured on this essential head, he had not troubled himself any more about that useless being. But now that he could not see him, he became rather anxious. At the very commencement of the battle, Joseph had ensconced himself behind his bullock and a vast array of boxes—had he, too, like Munza, been buried underneath the rock? Was he sharing, with the King of the Monbuttoos, the honour of a royal tomb? Joseph's decease would certainly not compromise the success of the expedition in any one way, but M. de Morin had always had a certain weakness for his valet; he looked upon taking him back to the Rue Taitbout in a state of perfect preservation as a point of honour, and he thought himself bound, before making an official report of his death, to make some effort to find him alive. At first he called him by name, adding thereto a series of epithets by no means complimentary, such as "good-for-nothing," "lazy," "scoundrel," "coward." As Joseph did not respond to these appeals, M. de Morin grew more tender. "Joseph, my good Joseph, my dear Joseph, don't be afraid; the amazons have disappeared." This sweetness was equally futile; the valet remained invisible. His master then thought of drumming for him, there being no town-crier at hand with a bell. Accordingly a Nubian was provided with an empty tin case, and on it he executed a prolonged and artistic roll.

At the sound of the drum two serpents of the python species, called by the natives of Africa _metsé_, _pallah_, or _tari_, were seen to glide out of a cleft at the bottom of the rock. Passionately fond of music, like all their race, they were attracted by the roll of the African drum. Presently, there appeared behind them a man, or, rather, the head of a man, whose body was enveloped by a python five metres long and from thirty to forty centimeters in circumference. The head belonged to Joseph. Early in the morning this brave servant had come to the conclusion that things would turn out badly for him, and that his barricade was by no means a sufficient protection. Creeping along the foot of the mountain, he slipped into a cleft which might have been constructed on purpose to afford him a hiding-place. But the serpents, alarmed by the firing, had hit upon precisely the same idea, had chosen the same refuge, and taking Joseph, who was paralysed by fear, for the trunk of a tree, had coiled themselves round him. For several hours the unhappy wretch was a silent spectator of the proceedings of these reptiles. A naturalist would assuredly have profited by the opportunity of studying their manners and customs, but Joseph, persuaded that his last hour was come, limited himself to repenting of his misdeeds, and silently confessing his sins.

At last the music produced its effect. Two of the serpents uncoiled themselves, one after the other, and left their perch, whilst the third, converting a point of a rock into a fulcrum, wound his tail round it, and, without quitting his victim, drew him outwards. A general rush was made to rescue Joseph as soon as his terror-stricken face, haggard eyes, and hair on end appeared in view, and as the pythons are quite harmless, they were driven away without difficulty. The lower orders of creation had certainly manifested a decided predilection for M. de Morin's valet. Bees, ants, leeches, termites of all kinds, and serpents had in turn disported themselves on his body, and left behind them charming reminiscences of his journey.

At five o'clock the united caravans were all ready to start.