PART 2
It was already 1:30 in the afternoon when I finished my observations and
we began to go back down the mountain. Standing on our feet or
squatting, we slid down the steep descent, strewn with crushed stone.
And at two o'clock in the afternoon we reached the spot where we had
left the mule. The captive also went behind us. Plaintively repeating
"Dulole! Dulole!" he called his wife. But Dulole did not respond. We
were tormented with thirst. In a gourd, there remained still a few
mouthsful of water, and we divided it equally. The Turgana, for his
part, gave several drops to the baby.
Up until sunset there now remained only three and a half hours. And
until water, there were no less than 20 versts [13 miles], and to the
bivouac it was still much farther. We had been on the move since four
o'clock in the morning and had gone more than 30 versts [20 miles], not
counting the climb up the mountain. We did not have any provisions with
us. Water, of which we needed to have only two cups per man, was all
drunk up. And up until the Nyanya itself we would not have any more.
Having left the captive with his baby, we just barely pushed forward.
Aulale had colic. I sat him on the mule and went on foot. After an hour
he felt better, and we went farther, taking turns on who sat on the
mule. On the horizon, the forest along the river bank, toward which we
were striving, shone black. But it didn't seem to get any closer, but
rather seemed to get farther away from us. At five o'clock in the
afternoon, we took a five-minute break; and I no sooner succeeded in
sitting on the mule again, when, not far off, a herd of goats and rams
came out from the bushes, and after them came several dozen natives.
Behind them rose the voices of still others. They, probably, were
withdrawing deep into the country, getting away from the Abyssinians who
were going along the river.
Our position was rather difficult now. The natives, seeing how few of us
there were and how weak we were, would most probably attack us. We,
extremely exhausted, could not withstand a protracted fight, all the
more so since our arms were very insignificant -- just one rifle with 30
cartridges and one revolver with 10 cartridges. It seemed to me that it
would be much better for us to attack them unexpectedly, rather than
wait to be attacked. Not losing a second, I galloped at the natives and
they, startled by my sudden appearance, scattered in all directions and
hastened to run away. Carried away by my example and forgetting their
weariness, Aulale and Ababa ran headlong in pursuit. I attacked the
second group of natives, who were more persistent than their first
comrades, and I even got into a fight with one of them... The natives
abandoned their herd, and our path was now free. I stopped and began to
call my ashkers.. But they did not respond. I fired a shot, but no
answer followed. I waited for them for about 20 minutes, calling and
firing shots, but they didn't raise their voice in reply. It was useless
to look for them now. To wait longer was pointless and dangerous. If
they were alive, then they, probably, worn out with thirst, were now
hurrying straight to the river. With the burdensome feeling of not
knowing what had become of my companions, I left this place behind. I
began to come upon many signs of livestock, heading to the south. It
must be that the natives went this way, driving their herd in the
opposite direction from the Abyssinians. To my amazement I still didn't
see traces of our detachment, which by my calculations I should have
found already.
The sun had already set and it was becoming dark when I got to the
forest by the river. To my horror, I came upon the following scene: on
the edge of the forest lay an Abyssinian killed with a spear and beside
him lay his horse. He was probably one of the scouts who had separated
from the detachment. A bit farther, in a hidden clearing in the forest,
there lay about in the grass regularly arranged rope nets, stretched on
wooden frames for loading donkeys. This must have been the bivouac of
those whom the Abyssinians frightened off. In a thicket of the forest, I
stumbled upon a hunters' lair, arranged under a large branchy tree and
surrounded by dense bushes. In the middle of a circular area, a sagene
and a half in diameter [3 meters], was the hearth, and beside it was a
unique basket, an arshin and a half [42 inches] in height. Twigs were
stuck in the ground and connected with hoops. The bottom of it was
located at half an arshin [14 inches] from the ground, and in the basket
were placed pieces of dry wood and coal.
The dense forest was not quite so uninhabited as it had seemed at first
glance...
Forcing my way with difficulty through the thicket, I continued to go
toward the water and finally reached the steep bank of the Nyanya. It
was impossible to water the mule at this place, and having fastened its
lead to my saber, which I drove deep into the ground, I, grabbing hold
of a liana, let myself down from a height of several sagenes [a sagene
is a little more than two meters] to the river and greedily began to
drink its warm water. Using the same liana, I climbed back up. To my
great happiness, I found my mule -- now my only companion -- in the same
spot where I had left it, and my fears that some Idenich would kill it
from ambush or that it would break away, frightened accidentally by a
wild animal, were not justified.
I left the forest and again began to look for traces of the detachment.
My recently quenched thirst flared up again now to a much greater
degree; and my body, which before this, had been dry, was completely
covered with perspiration.
Along the way, I frequently came upon gullies. It was impossible to go
farther in such conditions. I had to wait for the moon.
The moonless black tropical night was now in the full strength of its
mysterious beauty. It was terrifying to feel yourself completely alone,
lost in the middle of an unknown, hostile land. There were no signs that
the detachment was near, and I tried in vain among the night sounds to
make out the neighing of a donkey. It was to no purpose... Only an
elephant was forcing its way into the forest through the thicket, and
from the river sounded a hippopotamus and the piercing cry of a night
bird... Getting down on the ground and tightly tying the mule's lead to
my hand, I leaned against a high hill built by termites and dozed off.
Exhausted, and not having had anything to drink all day, the mule stood
hanging its head. Sometimes, having sensed a wild animal in the
vicinity, it snorted in fear and pricked up its ears.
I was in a state of both sleep and drowsy consciousness. I held the mule
tightly, listened hard to each rustle, and was ready for the most
desperate self-defense; but, at the same time, fantastic pictures went
through my imagination one after the other. This was really a waking
dream... In thought I was carried away to my family, to my comrades in
the regiment. I remembered petty incidents of my life and, facts were
interwoven with fantasy in a continuous chain of images.
Finally, at about 12 o'clock at night, the moon came out and I set out
farther in search of the detachment. The whole time I followed along the
steep edge of the steppe to the north, and after an hour I began to come
across frequent tracks of mules and horses. Still a bit farther, I came
upon a wide trail trampled down by people on foot and by horses. The
tracks led to the north: there was no doubt that they belonged to our
detachment. I rode at a trot along the trail, time and again stumbling
upon the bodies of men and animals who died during the march, and my
mule threw itself to the side in fear. In low places near the bodies,
hyenas already reigned; and in the quiet of the night there resounded
either the growling or the groaning of a lion -- long-drawn out, heard
from afar, but not seeming loud.
At about three o'clock in the morning, I reached the place where our
bivouac had been located on March 25. The detachment had left it, and
the trail went far in the middle of dense grass and bushes. I rode
quickly in the high grass. Suddenly, at several paces in front of me, in
the light of the moon, there shone the blades of spears, and I saw three
natives. I quickly shot at the middle one with my revolver and galloped
at them.
The middle one fell, and the others rushed into the bushes. The meeting
with natives indicated that our bivouac was near: they were probably
roaming close to it. Actually, in a little while, I heard nearby the
loud neighing of a donkey, which at this memorable moment in my life
joyfully resounded in my heart, like the voice of the herald of my
salvation.
My servants, having waited for me with alarm, came to meet me with
burning logs. My meeting with Zelepukin [Bulatovich's orderly] was the
most joyous. He, poor fellow, was already beginning to grieve and
getting ready to go on a search. It was already four o'clock in the
morning. I quickly had a bite of a stale flatcake.
Ababa and Aulale arrived almost at the same time I did. Pursuing the
natives, they had stumbled upon the road by which the detachment had
gone; and, tormented by thirst, they had set out straight for water,
leaving me alone.
This day's march did not come easily to the detachment either. The Ras
ordered his troops to go straight through the waterless steppe, in order
to avoid the bends of the river and the bushes on its banks. Several
dozen captive women and children died because of this, since they were
unaccustomed to protracted walking and endured thirst badly.
Of our soldiers, five died from sun stroke.
Blessings to all
Biniam
Arlington, Virginia, USA