CH A P T E R X
A t about quarter to five on the morning of December
17, I heard the voice of George at my tent,
saying, “ Mr. Chanler, the porters have all left camp
in a body with their weapons.” I leaped to my feet,
seized the first gun I could lay hands on, and dashed
out of the zeriba. It was quite dark, but I was able
to distinguish a mass of forms standing at a distance
of eighty yards. I had an instinctive feeling which
prompted me to throw away my weapon, and advance
toward them unarmed. It was well I did so, for I
afterwards ascertained that the weapon I had seized
was an empty shot-gun. I said nothing until I
reached a point within ten feet of the men, and
then I asked, “ What is the matter ? ” A voice from
the rear of the line said, “ We are going to Hamidi,
our headman, at the river.” I shouted, “ Return to
camp at once.” There was no distinct reply, but a
low murmur rose from the mass of the men.
I looked behind me, and saw standing there George
and Ramazan, the chief of the Soudanese. None of
us three had so much as a stick in our hands.
I then asked, “ Is this the plan of all of you, or
are you obeying the orders of some one ? ” A feeble
but general shout of “ All ” escaped them. I then
said, “ Wait until Hamidi comes for you; he wil^
448
return to our camp here in a day or two.” Then
excited cries arose, and I saw the men through fear
were working themselves into a frenzy. My one idea
was to keep them talking, until I could formulate
some plan of action by which to circumvent their
attempt at desertion. I then said, “ Do you realize
what you are about to do ? — you are deserting the
European in the desert. You will not only get no
pay, but will receive the punishment meted to all
deserters upon arriving at the coast. Do not be
foolish; return to camp. If you have any complaints
to make, return to camp, and make them.”
These words were received by the men with ever-
increasing shouts. The longer I stood there, the
greater seemed their courage, and the less my chances
of retaining them. I turned to George, and whispered
a few words to him. The men seemed to guess what
I was doing, and shouted one to another, “ Twende-
zetu ” (Let us go). Occasionally, in their excitement,
a gun was discharged, and the flash illumined for an
instant the faces of the men in its vicinity. I could
see that many of them, poor stupid creatures, had
their guns pointed towards me in a trembling and
half-hearted manner.
While I was talking with the men, two of my
Somali and three Soudanese rushed up, and lined
themselves behind me; they were in a high state of
excitement, and appeared willing to assist me in every
way. Had they held their peace, it is likely I should
have succeeded in bringing back the would-be deserters
to camp; but these faithful creatures, perhaps in order
to overawe the deserters, slapped their guns with their