their offer to start, I only replied by vowing vengeance
against the vakeel.
Their time was passed in vociferously quarrelling
among themselves during the day, and in close conference
with the vakeel during the night, the substance
of which was reported on the following morning by the
faithful Saat, The boy recounted their plot. They
agreed to march to the east, with O the intention of
deserting me at the station of a trader named Chenooda,
seven days’ march from Gondokoro, in the Latooka
country, whose men were, like themselves, Dongolowas ;
they had conspired to mutiny at that place, and to
desert to the slave-hunting party with my arms and
ammunition, and to shoot me should I attempt to
disarm them. They also threatened to shoot my
vakeel, who now, through fear of punishment at
Khartoum, exerted his influence to induce them to
start. Altogether, it was a pleasant state of things.
That night, I was asleep in my tent, when I was
suddenly awoke by loud screams, and upon listening
attentively I distinctly heard the heavy breathing of
something in the tent, and I could distinguish a dark
object crouching close to the head of my bed. A slight
pull at my sleeve showed me that my wife also noticed
the object, as this was always the signal that she made
if anything occurred at night that required vigilance.
Possessing a share of sangfroid admirably adapted
for African travel, Mrs. Baker was not a screamer, and
never even whispered; in the moment of suspected
danger, a touch of my sleeve was considered a sufficient
warning. My hand had quietly drawn the revolver
from under my pillow and noiselessly pointed it within
two feet of the dark crouching object, before I asked,
“ Who is that ?” No answer was given—until, upon
repeating the question, with my finger touching gently
upon the trigger ready to fire, a voice replied, “ Fa-
deela.” Never had I been so near to a fatal shot ! I t
was one of the black women of the party, who had
crept into the tent for an asylum. Upon striking a
light I found that the woman was streaming with
blood, being cut in the most frightful manner with the
coorbatch (whip of hippopotamus’s hide). Hearing the
screams continued at some distance from the tent, I
found my angels in the act of flogging two women;
two men were holding each woman upon the ground
by sitting upon her legs and neck, while two men with
powerful whips operated upon each woman alternately.
Their backs were cut to pieces, and they were literally
covered with blood. The brutes had taken upon themselves
the task of thus punishing the women for a
breach of discipline in being absent without leave..
Fadeela had escaped before her punishment had been