To start was impossible without oars, and an angry altercation being
carried on between my men and the Government boat, it was necessary to
come to closer quarters. The reis of the Government boat was a gigantic
black, a Tokrouri (native of Darfur), who, confident in his strength,
challenged any one to come on board, nor did any of my fellows respond
to the invitation. The insolence of Turkish Government officials is
beyond description--my oars were smashed, and this insult was the
reparation; so, stepping quickly on board, and brushing a few fellows on
one side, I was obliged to come to a physical explanation with the
captain, which terminated in a delivery of the oars. The bank of the
river was thronged with people, many were mere idlers attracted by the
bustle of the start, and others, the friends and relatives of my people,
who had come to say a last good-bye, with many women, to raise the Arab
cry of parting. Among others, was a tall, debauched-looking fellow,
excessively drunk and noisy, who, quarrelling with a woman who attempted
to restrain him, insisted upon addressing a little boy named Osman,
declaring that he should not accompany me unless he gave him a dollar to
get some drink. Osman was a sharp Arab boy of twelve years old, whom I
had engaged as one of the tent servants, and the drunken Arab was his
father, who wished to extort some cash from his son before he parted;
but the boy Osman showed his filial affection in a most touching manner,
by running into the cabin, and fetching a powerful hippopotamus whip,
with which he requested me to have his father thrashed, or "he would
never be gone.
Pages:
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73