  On the second of June, 1886, Casati had a public audience with King Kabrega. The monarch wore an elegant cloak of wonderful fineness and a red head-covering in the Arab style. He sat in a great armchair with his “exalted” feet resting upon a beautiful leopard skin. His colossal figure, which was above the ordinary height, an expressive countenance, rather overbearing than friendly, and his very ready tongue and studied movements made a pleasant impression upon everyone who met him for the first time. His first-born son sat at his left, upon a stool, the others standing. His leaders were camped in a circle about the cabins, sitting, Arab fashion, upon the ground covered with green papyrus. Behind the king there hung a silk drapery of Indian handiwork, brought from Zanzibar, and behind this drapery from time to time children’s faces, full of curiosity, peeped out. Six youths of the most distinguished families, with weapons in their hands, stood around the throne. Casati sat at the right of the king, a few steps distant, and presented the message of the governor. Emin requested a free and open way for the transmission of his letters to the coast, free passage of soldiers and officials to Egypt, and lastly the privilege of securing produce from the merchants of Unjoro and the sending of a representative to Madelai. The king seemingly assented to all the propositions, but Casati quickly observed that a hostile faction ruled him and that his good intentions might not be carried out. The passage of the post was permitted, but letters coming from the coast had to be submitted to certain conditions. Troops were also allowed free passage, but only in single detachments and a limited number at a time, which made it easy to attack and destroy them. Kabrega agreed to send a representative to Madelai and was generous in words and promises for his “doctor friend,” as he called the governor. The second audience took place on the tenth of October, 1886. “The governor,” said Casati, “begs permission to establish two military stations on the lake” (Albert Lake). “And what are you going to do at the lake?” “The soldiers at the northern stations are in daily danger of attack by the rebels at Khartoum.” “So, you intend to take possession of my territory?” “On the contrary, our stay will be short. At a favorable opportunity we will withdraw and you will not only be ruler of Schuli and Lut, but will have the warehouses which are well supplied with ivory, iron, and brass. The two Egyptian steamers in a short time will enable you to compare in resources with Waganda. But why do no brokers come here? It seems impossible that Mackay [a business friend in Zanzibar], after all the promises he has made us, should not be interested in our favor.” “The Wagandans have placed obstacles in the brokers’ way. But have the Arabs never delivered letters or newspapers to you?” “No, we should not venture to avail ourselves of their services without your permission. But we are not concerned about the Arabs leaving us, for the moment we have the royal word that is sufficient security for us.” “Yes, you can depend upon me. I am Emin Pasha’s friend.” “Then will you grant what I have asked?” “This very moment I grant what my friend asks. Establish your stations on the lake. I will issue orders to my chiefs to furnish corn to the soldiers who are stationed there.” “I pray you for another favor.” “Speak. I am ready to grant whatever you wish.” “Biri [an Arab trader] left the coast for here two months ago and is detained by your people on the frontier. Issue an order for them to let him come.” “And how do you know Biri is there?” “I know it.” “Who told you about it?” “No one.” “It cannot be possible.” “Oh yes, very possible. Listen to me. When Dr. Junker left [Junker went to Zanzibar when all hope of going to the northern route vanished] he promised the governor to send necessary supplies by Biri. It is not only possible, but certain, that he must be here.” “Biri is sent to make trouble in my kingdom. He shall not set foot in it.” “You are wrong. He must come. We are here in consequence of your express assurances. We expect that they will be carried out.” “It is my people who do not wish Biri to come here. I cannot oppose them. It is for my interest to keep their good-will.” “It is the evil Abd Rahmann [one of Kabrega’s ministers] who is ruining your country with his pernicious influence.” “I am the king. I command and do not need instruction from anyone as to my duties.” “I well understand the truth hurts you, but you cannot prevent it being told to you. Emin Pasha wishes Biri to come. If you do not obey, he will feel compelled to resort to other means.” “And what?” “He will write to Said Bargash of the Egyptian government. What will you say then?” “By what route can he send letters if I close mine?” “By a hundred ways, for there are as many. He first applied to you because he regarded you as a friend and not because necessity forced him to.” “It is not possible that Emin would have thought of this if you had not made the suggestion. This plan for my disadvantage originated with you.” “It is an honest man who is speaking to you. If I had been dishonest I would have overwhelmed you with compliments to secure your favor and attention.” “Biri shall come in the morning.” “Good! I thank you.” Biri came and Emin awaited him with his steamer. His joy was great, for the supplies were urgently needed. He went back with a handsome quantity of ivory to be used in exchange and left hope in all hearts for the future. But things went far differently in Unjoro. The old minister Katagora, Emin’s stanch friend, died suddenly and, as was openly declared, by poison. On the morning of his death the king declared that from now on he would rule with the small and no longer be influenced by the great, and the dying minister suddenly heard at the door of the palace a crowd of boys shouting, “He’s dying now.” It was only his inordinate eagerness for ivory and weapons that induced Kabrega’s apparent friendship. His hostile feelings began daily to reveal themselves. Merchants were strictly forbidden to sell their wares to Emin’s people. One Abu Bekr, who brought supplies for the government from Uganda, was set upon, robbed, and driven across the borders. The natives were forbidden to sell corn and other produce to Casati. The ivory sent to the king as compensation for allowing Biri’s caravan to pass through the country was sent back. “The horns of my cows,” said Kabrega, who was very proud of his herds, to Casati, “are longer than the elephant tusks you have sent me. I don’t know what to do with them.” “I am sorry,” replied Casati, “that the king disturbs our good relations upon such empty pretences. So far as the ivory is concerned, I will hold it subject to his orders.” The whole of the next year was occupied in diplomatic efforts to secure the good-will of Kabrega, but he had learned that Emin’s strength was not so very great and Casati, who would not forsake his post or do anything to diminish the importance of the governor, was treated disrespectfully. On the third of January, a messenger came from the south with the news that Europeans with a well-armed force, in Zanzibar dress, had arrived there. “God be thanked for his help in time of need.” But Casati was rejoicing too soon, for the arrival of the strangers exposed him to new dangers. The report of this invasion by armed Europeans of course reached Kabrega and aroused all his suspicions. Had he not already conjectured that Emin would construct those stations on the lake because he had designs upon his country? All his promises to withdraw from the stations some day and leave him with great riches were nothing but empty deceit! Now help was coming from the south, a strong army with European guns, that would attack his country on two sides, capture Unjoro and settle down there as white men had often treated other negro races. But this treacherous messenger who had deceived him all the time and kept him to suspense should pay the penalty. Casati knew his danger, but he faced it bravely. On the ninth of January, 1888, the Vizier Guakamatera invited him to come and see him. Casati went with Biri, who was there at the time, and his faithful companions, to the house of the great dignitary. What was their astonishment as they came in sight of it to find it surrounded by a large armed force! Biri whispered, “Let us go back.” “It is useless. We must go forward and hasten our steps,” said Casati. At the foot of an ancient tree, which was majestic in the abundance of its foliage as well as in its height, sat the high priest with the minor magicians around him. He wore a splendid turban of red stuff, decorated with glass pearls and shells, and from his temples projected two ox horns upon which hung little wooden talismans. In his left hand he held a great horn filled with a magic powder and in his right the conjuring staff. He wore a white cloak of oxhide fastened to his left shoulder and sat upon a small stool in a serious manner befitting his high dignity. The palace door opened, trumpets sounded, and the vizier appeared, surrounded by soldiers. The troops scattered about the place, savage, naked figures with rattling iron rings fastened to their feet and hands, and arranged themselves in a close circle a little distance away. They were armed with guns, spears, shields, bows and arrows, fully a thousand strong. A mysterious frigid silence, which denoted an extraordinary event, pervaded the assemblage. All eyes were fixed upon Guakamatera, whose colossal figure towered above those around him. “This is treachery,” whispered Casati in Biri’s ear. “May God help us! All hope is useless. We must show courage.” Perhaps ten minutes passed after the coming of the vizier. Suddenly he raised his right arm. The signal was given. The air was filled with savage cries. The savages rushed upon their victims, seized them and bound them to trees hand and foot, so tightly that they could not move. Guakamatera approached Casati. “I am going by command of my king to your lodging. I know that you have an armed force there, which has come secretly and gradually from Wadelai, and with which you have intended to get possession of the country. Woe to them if they make the least resistance. They shall be killed at once.” “Under the conditions in which you have placed me by the order of your king,” replied Casati, “I cannot be answerable for anything that may happen when you reach my house. In the meantime I advise you to take my companion with you. He can carry instructions from me and they will be faithfully obeyed.” “Good! Give him the instructions.” “The government’s soldiers shall lay down their arms, and my companion shall obey at once what Guakamatera orders. No one shall oppose him or protest.” The vizier left, accompanied by his troops, leaving three hundred behind to guard the prisoners. Casati’s house was searched. All the collections to which he had devoted a lifetime, as well as Biri’s goods, were carried away and the servants were made prisoners. Naturally their treatment was no milder than that to which their master was subjected. The vizier returned about five in the afternoon, the prisoners having stood tightly bound during his absence, without a drop of water to quench their thirst and exposed to the maltreatment and insults of the brutal guards. He had put on finer attire and seated himself in the great judges’ chair, while his warriors gathered about him to receive instructions. “These men,” he said, pointing to the prisoners, “have called the Wagandans into the country [a pure invention]. Your women and children have been carried off, your houses burned, your property stolen, and your harvest destroyed. The king will visit justice for their crimes and relies upon my arms for revenge.” A dismal howl full of menace broke out. “Gobia, gobia” [“traitors, traitors”]. Casati and Biri were unbound and removed to the place of justice and were surrounded by a new force of warriors. Casati entered the circle and met his servants. He seemed to them like one risen from the dead. The sight of their beloved master filled them all with new hopes. The place where they found themselves was ominous. The great wooden drums were covered with the blood of victims. They must make an attempt at flight. “There is no place except this thicket of thorns which is not beset by warriors,” said one of his men, an active, nimble fellow who had been making observations. “Good! We will throw ourselves on all fours and make a rush through it.” No sooner said than done. They got through the thicket and kept on their way, but soon encountered a reserve of the negroes. It was impossible to defend themselves, so they left the road and escaped by the aid of the tall grass. Their flight that day was beset by dangers. Whenever they ventured out of the woods to buy sweet potatoes or beans with glass beads, the negroes would drive them off with threats. King Kabrega’s direful orders followed them everywhere. Fortunately, however, they found a friend in this wilderness. A young Dinka woman, who had escaped the brutality of an Egyptian official by Emin Pasha’s interference, brought them by night a great dish of beans and the comforting assurance that Emin would be on the lake, January eleventh, with two steamers. This aroused fresh hope that, in spite of their wounded feet and aching limbs, of hunger and thirst, they would reach the shores of the lake. Their armed pursuers were near them. They climbed hills through thorns and bushes, falling and getting up again, in anxious silence. Their pursuers had surrounded them and the bushes crackled about them. They reached the top of a hill and heard excited discussions going on around them, loud, threatening voices, and excited rushing about, and soon a sudden, hasty, headlong flight. “What has happened?” Casati’s servant, who was a little ahead, came back trembling with joy. “The steamer, the steamer!” he shouted, running down from the summit. Help in time of need, and it was high time. The exhausted men could hardly stand and they were still a long way from the lake. The sun was setting and it was too late to attract the notice of the crew. A long dreary night was passed upon the shore of the lake without food and enveloped in a dense cold mist. The next morning a large cloth was fastened to a pole for a signal. About nine o’clock a cloud of smoke appeared upon the horizon. Anxious moments followed. Would the rescuers see them? Thank God! the outline of the steamer grew ever larger and it was approaching steadily and swiftly. The poor fugitives waved their flag, a shrieking whistle answered, replied to by loud cheers. A boat with the rescued ones on board, Emin Pasha, and several officers and officials had come to fetch them, more out of pity than with any prospect of success. All were speechless with joy over the unexpected rescue. |
|
