  While Emin was thus daily exposed to the danger of death, either at the hands of the Mahdists or his own people, the relief expedition was also near destruction more than once. It seems almost incredible that Stanley should have taken the same route through the dreadful forest in which he had wandered for six months, at the cost of losing half his people. When he left half of his force with six hundred carriers in Jambuja, on the banks of the Aruwimi, under command of Major Bartelot, it was with the expectation that Tippoo Tib, the famous Arab merchant, would speedily furnish transportation and enable them to reach the Albert Nyanza. But Stanley had been out of the forest for months and not one of Major Bartelot’s men had appeared. A year had passed since he left them and now he asked himself the question, “Why do they not come? Have they suffered some calamity, perhaps sickness, revolt of the people, or destruction by the natives? Perhaps they have all perished, and these two hundred and seventy-nine men and the supplies of every kind promised to Emin are all gone.” These questions tormented the leader and no satisfactory answer came to quiet him. After leaving the sick and incapacitated in Fort Bado, under the care of Dr. Parke, he plunged again into that dark, gloomy forest, that cruel wilderness, from which his people had but just escaped. At last, on the seventeenth of August (1888) the expedition, after finding several canoes on the river, came to a great bend of the Aruwimi at Benalja and observed upon the opposite bank a village with a strong enclosure. White costumes were visible, and looking through the field glass Stanley saw a red flag, upon which was a white crescent and star, the Egyptian symbols. Stanley sprang to his feet shouting, “The major, boys! Row faster!” Loud cries and hurrahs followed and the canoes shot swiftly ahead. When within hearing distance he called to some men upon the shore: “What people are you?” “We are Stanley’s people.” They rowed ashore and Stanley sprang out and addressed a European officer: “Well, Bonney, how are you? Where is the major?” “The major is dead, sir.” “Dead! Good God! How did he die? Of fever?” “No, sir, he was shot.” “By whom?” “By the Manjema, the bearers whom Tippoo Tib sent us.” “How are our people?” “More than half of them are dead.” Stanley was speechless. He mechanically gave orders for the landing of his men and then followed Bonney to the camp in order to learn the complete details of the tragedy. Human beings worn with sickness, mere skeletons, crawled past and gave him welcome with their hollow voices—welcome to a churchyard! One hundred graves in Jambuja, thirty-three men left in camp to perish, ten bodies on the way, forty persons in Banalja who had a feeble hold upon life, twenty deserters and sixty left in a moderate condition. How did such a loss happen? Bonney explained. Stanley had left the major in Jambuja fourteen months ago with instructions to await the arrival of those six hundred carriers which Tippoo Tib had promised should accompany them to the Albert Nyanza. Eight times the major made the journey to Stanley Falls to remind Tippoo Tib of his promise. The greedy Arab took advantage of the necessities of the expedition to raise the price of his service and a year elapsed—a year of frightful, murderous desolation in that unhealthy camp at Jambuja. At last some of the bearers came, but they were of the Manjema tribe, a savage cannibal people, not inclined to obey the orders of whites. They finally left Jambuja, that yawning grave, and reached Banalja, where Bartelot was killed. Bonney’s diary describes the event. “On the nineteenth of July (1888) a Manjema woman began beating the drum and singing. That is their daily practice. The major sent a boy to her and ordered her to stop, whereupon loud, angry voices were heard as well as two shots which were fired in defiance. The major sprang from his bed and taking his revolver said, ‘I will kill the first one I find shooting.’ I implored him not to mind their daily practice, but to stay where he was, as it would soon be over. He went, revolver in hand, where the Soudanese were. They told him they could not find the men who fired the shots. The major then went to the woman who was drumming and singing and ordered her to stop. At that instant Sanga, husband of the woman, fired a shot through an aperture in an adjoining hut, the ball piercing him directly below the region of the heart, coming out through his back and penetrating a part of the veranda below, while he fell to the earth dead.” The camp was at once in the greatest excitement. It looked as if all, soldiers and carriers, Zanzibarites, Soudanese, and Manjema might start at once in every direction taking with them the luggage and arms. It required all Lieutenant Bonney’s energy to stop the plundering and force them back to duty, and it was only accomplished by the adoption of harsh measures. The major’s body was buried and his murderer was sentenced to be shot. Then came Stanley and now it was hoped everything would go well. Stanley was a man of extraordinary energy, who never indulged in outbursts of emotions, but he was wellnigh discouraged when he heard this mournful story and realized the troubles of the expedition which he had hoped to find in excellent condition. But he looked forward with confidence and fortunately his own strong men were loud in praise of the beautiful region on the Nyanza, where there was plenty of meat and bread and beer and where the poor starved people at Banalja would soon recover their strength. |
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