Samuel fancied that he was a very great man in his own country. His father

had been a small sheik; and Theodore, after Samuel's native country had

rebelled, made him governor of it. With all the appearance of great humility,

Samuel was proud; and by treating him as if he was in reality a great man,

he was as easily managed as a child. He had suffered from a severe attack

of dysentery during our stay at Kourata. I attended him carefully, and he

always felt grateful for my attentions towards him. When we separated and

lived in different houses, he did not allow the guards to sleep inside our hut.

It is true it would have been difficult; but Abyssinian soldiers are not

particular: they sleep anywhere,—on their prisoner's bed, if there is no other

place, making use of him as a pillow. Of course Mr. Rassam had none; but

he was the great man, the dispenser of favours. Stern, Cameron, and

Rosenthal, being neither rich nor favourites, had the advantage of the

presence of two or three of those ruffians as their companions every night;

nor were those in the kitchen better off, as some soldiers were always sent

in at night not to watch Kerans and Pietro, but the King's property (our own

kit).

Samuel soon made friends with some of the chiefs. After a while, two of

them were constantly in our inclosure, and, under the pretext of coming to

see Samuel, would spend hours with us. Kerans, a good Amharic scholar,

was the interpreter on those occasions: one of them, Deftera Zenab, the

King's chief scribe, (now tutor to Alamayou,) is an intelligent; honest man;

but he was quite mad on astronomy, and would listen for hours to anything

concerning the solar system. Unfortunately, either the explanations were

faulty or his comprehension dull as each time he came he wanted the whole

dissertation over again until at last our patience was fairly exhausted, and

we gave him up as a bad job. His other intimate was a good-natured young

man called Afa Negus Meshisha, son of a former governor of the Amba;

Theodore, on the death of the father, had given Meshisha the title, but

nothing more. His forte was playing the lute, or a rude instrument

something like it. Samuel could listen to him for hours; but two minutes

was quite enough to make us run off. He was, however, useful in his way, as

he gave us good information about what was going on in Theodore's camp,

—intelligence which his position as an occasional member of the council

enabled him to obtain.

Such, apart from ourselves, was our only society. It is true that the Ras and

the great men would occasionally call on Mr. Rassam, much more

frequently since he give them arrack and toj, instead of the coffee he used to

offer them at first; but, unless one of them wanted some medicine, it was

very rare that they honoured us with a visit; they thought that they had done

quite enough—indeed bestowed a great favour, for which we ought to be

grateful—if, as they passed near our hut, they shouted "May God open

thee!"

But our enemy was one of the day guards, named Abu Falek, an old rascal

who delighted in making mischief; he was hated by every one on the

mountain, and on that account outwardly respected. The day he was on

guard it was very difficult to write, as he was always putting his ugly grey

head in at the door to see what we were doing. He did his best to do us

harm, but could reach no higher than our servants: our dollars were too

much for him.

Everything has an end. With Maskal (the Feast of the Cross) came sunshine

and pleasant cool weather. We had already been two months and a half in

chains, and we expected that soon some comforting news would reach us,

telling us "Be of good cheer; we are coming."

Since our arrival at Magdala we had not received a single letter: and more

than six months had elapsed without news from our friends, or any

intelligence whatsoever from Europe.

Immediately after the rains, Mr. Rassam had his house repaired and

improved, and a new hut built, as Mrs. Rosenthal was expected to join our

party; Samuel obtained a piece of ground adjoining our inclosure, which

was afterwards included in it, and on which he built a hut for himself and

family. Samuel had several times spoken to me about pulling down our

wretched godjo, and building a larger hut instead; but I thought it was

hardly worth the while, as before many months some change or the other

would take place: another reason was, that part of the old fence stood in

front of my godjo, and I should hardly have gained more than a foot of

ground. Samuel promised to do his best to have the fence removed if I

would build; I agreed to do so, and he endeavoured to fulfil his part of the

contract, but failed. However, a few weeks later, one of the chiefs, whom I

had attended almost since our arrival, in his first burst of gratitude at being

cured, took upon himself to break down the fence, and promised to send me

his men to help me.

All the materials—wood, bamboos, cow-hides, straw—could be purchased

below the mountain, and in a few days all was ready. I sent word to my

patient, who came at once, with about fifty soldiers, who, by his orders,

broke down the fence, and pulled down my godjo. The ground was

afterwards levelled, the circumference of the hut traced with a stick, fixed

to the centre by a piece of string, and a trench a foot and a half deep dug.

Two strong sticks were placed at the spot where the door would be, and

each soldier, carrying several of the branches with which the walls are built,

placed them in the ditch, filling up the vacant space with the earth that had

been taken out; they had only to tie, with strips of cow-hide, flexible

branches transversely in order to keep the vertical ones together, and the

first part of the structure was complete. A few days afterwards they

returned, made the framework of the roof, and lifted it up on the walls; it

then only required the thatcher to render our new abode inhabitable. The

servants brought water and made mud, with which the walls were coated

inside, and a week from the day the godjo had been pulled down, Prideaux

and myself were able to give our house-warming. The soldiers were

delighted with their job, and always came in large numbers when we

required their assistance, as we treated them very liberally: for instance, the

materials for our new hut cost eight dollars, but we spent fourteen dollars in

feasting those who had assisted us. We had now seven feet of ground each,

the table could be placed in the centre, and the folding chair offered to a

visitor. Mr. Rassam had tried, with success, to whitewash the interior of his

hut with a kind of soft white yellowish sandstone, that could be obtained in

the vicinity of the Amba; we, therefore, also put our servants to work, but

first had the mud walls several times besmeared with cow-dung, in order to

make the whitewash adhere. We enjoyed very much the neat clean

appearance of our hut. Unfortunately, being situate between two high fences

and surrounded by other huts, it was rather dark. To obviate this defect, we

cut out of the walls some of the framework, and made four windows; this

was certainly a great improvement, but at night we felt the cold bitterly.

Luckily, our friend Zenab gave us some parchment; out of an old box we

made some rude frames, and the parchment, previously well soaked in oil

served instead of glass.

We were obliged to keep a large staff of servants, as we had to prepare

everything for ourselves. Some women were engaged to grind flour for us

and the Abyssinian servants; others to bring water or wood. Men-servants

went to the market or to the neighbouring districts to purchase grain, sheep,

honey, &c.; many were employed as messengers to the coast or to Gaffat. I

had with me two Portuguese, who were the torment of my life, as they were

always quarrelling, often drunk, impertinent, and unwilling to work. The

Portuguese lived in the kitchen, but as they were always fighting with the

other servants, and we were perfectly helpless, and could not possibly

enforce our commands, I had a small hut erected for them. The inclosure

had been enlarged again by the chief, and Cameron had built a log-house

for himself, and Mr. Rosenthal had had one made for his servants; mine for

the Portuguese was built on the same spot, and before the rainy season I had

another one made for the Abyssinians, as they grumbled and threatened to

leave, if they had to spend the rains in a tent.

All these arrangements took us some time; we had been glad to have

something to do, as the days passed much quicker, and time did not weigh

so heavily upon us. Our Christmas was not very merry, nor did we on New

Year's Day wish one another many returns of a similar one; but we were on

the whole more accustomed to our captivity, and certainly in many respects

more comfortable.

CHAPTER XIII.

Theodore writes to Mr. Rassam about Mr. Flad and the Artisans—His two

Letters contrasted—General Merewether arrives at Massowah—Danger of

sending Letters to the Coast—Ras Engeddah brings us a few Stores —Our

Garden—Successful Results of Vaccination at Magdala—Our Day Guard

again—Second Rainy Season—The Chiefs are Jealous—The Ras and his

Council—Damash, Hailo, &c.—Daily Life during Rainy Season—Two

Prisoners attempt to Escape—The Knout in Abyssinia—A Dying Man's

Prophecy.

About this time a servant of Mr. Rassam, whom he had sent to his Majesty

some months previously, returned on the 28th of December with a letter

from Theodore, in which was inclosed one from our Queen. Theodore

informed Mr. Rassam that Mr. Flad had arrived at Massowah, and had sent

him the letter which he had forwarded us for perusal; he told Mr. Rassam to

await his arrival, as he would be coming before long, and they would

consult together about an answer. We were greatly rejoiced at the tenor of

the Queen's letter: it was plain that at last a higher tone had been adopted,

that the character of Theodore was better known, and all his futile plans

would be frustrated by the attitude our Government had taken.

On the 7th of January, 1867, Ras Engeddah arrived on the Amba, having

accompanied thither a batch of prisoners. He sent us his compliments and a

letter from Theodore. Theodore's letter was rather a boastful and imperious

one: he, first gave a summary of Flad's letter to himself, in which he had

been informed by that gentleman that everything he had required had been

consented to, but that in the meanwhile he had changed his behaviour

towards us. Theodore also gave us his intended reply: he said Ethiopia and

England had formerly been on a footing of friendship; and for that reason

he had loved the English exceedingly. But since then (to use his own

words), "having heard that they have calumniated and hated me with the

Turks, I said to myself, Can this be true? and I felt some misgiving in my

heart." He evidently wanted to ignore the ill treatment he had inflicted upon

us, as he said: "Mr. Rassam and his party you sent to me I have placed in

my house in my capital at Magdala, and I will treat them well until I obtain

a token of friendship." He concluded his letter by ordering Mr. Rassam to

write to the proper authorities, so that the things should be sent a to him; he

desired Mr. Rassam's letter to be forwarded to him, and quickly, so that Mr.

Flad might come without delay.

This letter must probably have been a post-prandial one; it was not the line

of conduct he wanted to adopt: he knew too well that his only chance was to

natter, appear humble, meek and ignorant; he might, he knew, enlist

England's sympathy by appearing in that light, and that an overbearing tone

would not suit his purpose, nor secure him the object he longed for. Early

the following day a messenger arrived from the Imperial camp with a letter

from General Merewether, and another from Theodore. How different this

letter from the one brought by Ras Engeddah! It was insinuating, courteous;

he orders no more, he humbly requests; he meekly entreats and begs: he

begins by saying:—"Now in order to prove the good relationship between

me and yourself, let it be shown by your writing, and by getting the skilful

artisans and Mr. Flad to come viâ Metemma; This will be the sign of our

friendship." He quotes the story of Solomon and Hiram on the occasion of

the building of the temple; then adds, "And now when I used to fall girded

at the feet of the great Queen, her nobles, people; hosts, etc., could it be

possible to be more humble?" He then describes his reception of Mr.

Rassam, and the way he treated him; how he released the former captives

the very day of his arrival, in order to comply with the request of the

Queen; he explains the cause of our imprisonment by reproaching Mr.

Rassam with having taken away the prisoners without first bringing them to

him; and concludes by saying, "As Solomon fell at the feet of Hiram, so I,

beneath God, fall at the feet of the Queen, and her Government, and her

friends. I wish you to get them (the artisans) viâ Metemma, in order that

they may teach me wisdom, and show me clever arts. When this is done I

will make you glad and send you away, by the power of God."

Mr. Rassam replied to his Majesty at once, informing him that he had

complied with his request. The messenger, on his arrival at the Emperor's

camp, was well received, presented with a mule, and quickly despatched on

his errand. For several months we heard nothing more upon the subject.

General Merewether, in his letter to Theodore, informed him that he had

arrived at Massowah with the workmen and presents, and that on the

captives being made over to him he would allow the workmen to proceed to

his Majesty's camp. We were quite overjoyed when we heard that General

Merewether was entrusted with the negotiation: we knew his ability, and

had full confidence in his tact and discretion. Indeed, he deserves our

sincere gratitude; for he was the captives' friend: from the moment he

landed at Massowah to the day of our release, he spared himself neither

trouble nor pains to effect our deliverance.

Messengers now were despatched more regularly; by them we wrote long

accounts of Theodore's proceedings, and urged that force should be

employed to obtain our release. We knew the great risk we ran, but we

preferred death to a continuance of such a miserable existence. We

informed our friends that we had quite made up our minds, and that our

safety was not to weigh for one instant in the balance. It was a chance: the

only one left to us, and we implored that we might have the advantage of it.

We gave all the information in our power as to the resources of the country,

the movements of his Majesty, the strength of his army, the course he would

probably follow should troops land, how to deal with him, and the means to

adopt in order to insure success. We knew that should any of such letters

fall into Theodore's hands, we had no mercy, no pity to expect; but we

considered it our duty to submit our opinion, and to the best of our ability

assist those who were labouring for our release.

At this time we frequently received news from our friends, as well as

newspapers, or a few articles cut out of them, and inclosed in an envelope.

War was still but little talked of; the press, with but few exceptions, seemed

to look upon it as a rash undertaking that would only lead to failure.

Correspondents, to our despair and disgust, expatiated on guinea-worms,

poisonous flies, absence of water, and such like rubbish. For another two

months and a half we led the same monotonous life. My medicines were

getting low, and as the number of my patients was great, I was very anxious

to receive some more.

On the 19th of March Ras Engeddah arrived on the Amba with a few

thousand soldiers. He had brought with him some money, powder, and

various stores which Theodore thought would be safer at Magdala. At the

same time he sent us some stores, medicines, &c., which Captain

Goodfellow had forwarded to Metemma soon after Mr. Flad's arrival. I will

give credit to Theodore for having behaved well on that occasion. As soon

as we were informed that the stores had arrived at Metemma, Mr. Rassam

wrote to the Emperor, asking his permission to send servants and mules, in

order to have them conveyed to Magdala. Theodore said that he would have

them carried himself, and moreover kept his word. He sent one of his

officers to Wochnee, with instructions to the various chiefs of districts to

have our things carried to Debra Tabor. I had long ago given everything up,

and was agreeably surprised when those few comforts reached us. For some

days, we treated ourselves to green peas, potted meats, cigars, &c., and felt

in better spirits; not so much on account of the stores themselves, as for the

attention our dangerous host had shown us.

I remember that during the following months we felt more than at any time

the burden of such an existence. We had expected great things, and nothing

was effected: we could not have believed, on our first arrival at Magdala,

that another rainy season was in reserve for us; we never would have

credited the assertion that long before that date all would not have been

over, some way or the other. What we disliked above all things was the

uncertainty in which we were now placed: we trembled at the idea of the

cruelties and tortures Theodore inflicted upon his victims; and each time a

royal messenger arrived, we could be seen going from one hut to the other,

exchanging anxious looks, and repeatedly asking our fellow-sufferers, "In

there any news? Is there anything concerning us?"

General Merewether, with kind forethought, had sent us some seeds, and we

obtained more from Gaffat. Rassam's inclosure had been considerably

enlarged by the chiefs, and he was able to arrange a nice garden. He had

before sown some tomato seeds; these plants sprang up wonderfully well,

and Mr. Rassam, with great taste, made with bamboos a very pretty trelliswork, soon entirely covered by this novel creeper. Between our hut, the

fence, and the hut opposite ours, we had a small piece of ground, about

eight feet broad on the average, and about ten feet long. Prideaux and

myself laboured hard, delighted at the idea of having something to do; with

slit-up bamboos we made a small trellis-work, dividing our garden into

squares, triangles, &c., and on the 24th of May, in honour of our Queen's

birthday, we sowed the seed. Some things came out very quickly; peas, in

six weeks, were seven or eight feet high, mustard, cress, radishes, and

salads prospered. But our central flower-bed remained for a long time

barren; and when at last a few plants came out, they belonged to some

biennial species, as they only flowered in the following spring. A few peas,

just to taste (our garden was too small to enable us to get from it more than

a scanty dish or two), raw lettuces (we had no oil, and only inferior vinegar

made out of tej), with now and then a radish, were luxuries we immensely

enjoyed after our long meat diet. When a second parcel of seeds reached us,

we transformed into "gardens" every available spot, and had the pleasure of

eating a few turnips, more lettuces, and a cabbage or two. Soon after the

rainy season everything withered away; the sun burnt up our treasures, and

left us again to our mutton and fowls.

A month or so before the rainy season of 1867, fever of a malignant type

broke out in the common gaol. The place was dirty enough before, and the

horrors of that abode were indescribable even when sickness did not

prevail; but when about 150 men of all ranks lay prostrate on the ground,

contaminating still more the already impure atmosphere, the scene was

horrible in the extreme, giving a better idea of the place of torments than

even Dante's vivid description. The epidemic lasted until the first rains set

in. About eighty died; and many more would have succumbed, had not,

fortunately, some of the guards contracted the disease. As long as it was

only the prisoners, they turned a deaf ear to all my suggestions; now they

had become willing listeners, and quickly adopted the advice they had

spurned but a short time before. To all who claimed my services I willingly

sent medicine; and, when some of the guards also came to me for treatment,

I gave them some also: but on condition that they would treat with more

kindness the unfortunate men in their charge.

General Merewether, always thoughtful and kind, aware that much of our

comfort depended on our being on friendly terms with the garrison, sent me

some vaccine lymph in small tubes. I explained to some of the more

intelligent natives the wonderful properties of that prophylactic, and

induced them to bring me their children to be inoculated. Amongst semicivilized races it is often difficult to introduce the blessings of vaccination;

but on this occasion they were universally and gratefully accepted. For

about six weeks an immense crowd collected outside the gates on

vaccinating days; so much so that it was with some difficulty that they were

kept back, so anxious were they to avail themselves of the famous medicine

that protected from the dreaded "koufing" (small-pox). It so happened that,

amongst the children I operated upon, was the child of old Abu Falek (or

rather his wife's), the day guard I have already mentioned. He was naturally

ill-natured and disobliging, and to save himself the trouble of bringing his

child to have others inoculated from it, and at the same time so as not to be

accused of selfishness, he spread the rumour that the children from whom

the lymph was taken would shortly afterwards die. This was the death-blow

to my endeavours to introduce vaccine amongst the natives; numbers still

collected to be vaccinated, but none came to give the lymph, and as I had no

more tubes, I was obliged to discontinue an experiment which had so

wonderfully succeeded.

The rainy season of 1867 set in about the end of the first week in July. We

had better shelter, and had time to make arrangements for provision for our

followers and ourselves before the rains fairly commenced, and in that

respect were better off than the year before; but, for other reasons, such as

the political condition of the country, the daily increasing difficulty of

communicating with the coast, it was perhaps, on the whole, more trying

and disagreeable.

The chiefs of the mountain had not been long in finding out that the English

captives had money. They all had frequently been presented with douceurs ,

in the shape of dollars for themselves, shamas or ornaments for their wives;

also tej and arrack, which was brewed by Samuel under Mr. Rassam's

direction, of which they partook frequently and freely. They tried to cut one

another out; each one in his private visits pretending to be "the best friend;"

but they could not openly leave the council-room, and start off for a glass,

without being accompanied by the whole batch, so they forbade every one

but themselves from visiting us. Poor Zenab for months took no more

lessons in astronomy, and Meshisha played the lute to his wives and

followers. They even went so far as to forbid the petty chiefs and soldiers

coming to me for medicine. But this was too much; though a despotism, the

constitution of the country only acknowledged one master. The soldiers

therefore sent their petty chiefs in a body to the Ras and members of the

council; they talked even of representing the matter to Theodore; and, as the

chiefs were far from being immaculate, and dreaded nothing so much as

reports to their master, they were obliged to give in, and cancel the order.

Theodore had, after his capture of Magdala, appointed a chief as governor

of the Amba, giving him a kind of unlimited power over the garrison; but

some years later he adjoined to him a few chiefs as his councillors, still

allowing the Head of the mountain to retain a great deal of his former

power. Always suspicious, but less able to satisfy his soldiers than before,

he took every precaution to avoid treachery, and to make certain that, when

engaged on distant expeditions, he might depend on his fortress of Magdala.

With that object he ordered a council to assemble on all important

occasions, and to consult on all matters concerning the internal economy of

the mountain. Every head of department, and every chief of a corps, had a

voice; the officers in command of the troops were to send separate and

private messengers; the Ras was still considered as the Head of the

mountain, but his authority was limited, and his responsibility great, should

he think proper to overrule his companions. Under these circumstances, it is

not astonishing that, as a rule, he would follow the advice of those chiefs

whom he knew to be the greatest worshippers of his master, his most

faithful spies and beloved tale-bearers.

The Head of the mountain on our arrival, Ras Kidana Mariam, was, on

account of his family connections and his position in the country,

considered "dangerous" by Theodore, and, as I have already mentioned,

was on a false charge taken to the camp. Shortly before depriving Ras

Kidana Mariam of his command he had promoted him from a Dedjazmatch

to the rank of Ras. Every umbel (colonel) was promoted by the same order

to be a Bitwaddad (something like a Brigadier-General), or a Dedjazmatch,

a title only applied in former days to governors of one large or of several

small provinces; bachas (captains) were made colonels, and so on

throughout the whole garrison; which after this consisted only of officers

and non-commissioned officers, the lowest in rank being at least a sergeant.

Theodore wrote to them at the time to inform them that they would draw

the pay and rations according to their rank, and when, as he expected before

long, he should see them, he would treat them so generously that even the

"unborn babe would rejoice in his mother's womb." Theodore, on three or

four occasions, out of his few remaining dollars, gave them a small advance

of pay. About forty dollars was the amount a general touched during the

time we were there; a sergeant, during the same period, about eight, I

believe. With that they were supposed to feed and clothe themselves,

families, and followers; for no rations were distributed at the same time as

the money. At first they were all dazzled by their new ranks—the only thing

Theodore could distribute with a liberal hand; but they soon found out what

these were worth, and, ragged, hungry, and cold, they were the first to joke

about their high-sounding but empty titles.

A distant relation of Theodore by his mother's side, named Ras Bisawar,

was, on the dismissal of Kidana Mariam, selected for the vacant post. He

had in his youth been brought up for the church, had even been made a

deftera, when the brilliant example of his relative took him from the

peaceful and quiet life he had first chosen to cast him amidst the turmoil of

camp life. He was a great big hulking fellow, bald-headed, and rather goodnatured; but for all his sword and pistols could not conceal his first pursuit

in life: he was still the deftera in borrowed plumage. His great fault was to

be too weak; he had no decision of character, no firmness, and was always

guided in his actions by the last talker.

Next in importance came Bitwaddad Damash, the ugliest and most

pompous puppy and the biggest-boasting villain on the whole mountain. He

was very sick when we first arrived, but though he could not come himself

he was far too much interested in our affairs not to be at all hours of the day

informed of our doings; for that purpose he sent his eldest son, a lad of

about twelve, several times in the day with compliments and inquiries after

our welfare. As soon as he could walk about a little he came now and then

himself, to see me for advice, and when restored to health, in the

thankfulness of the first moment, he helped to build our house. But

gratitude is not a lasting quality—in Abyssinia it hardly exists—and not

long afterwards Damash gave strong hints that if we wanted him to be our

friend we must not "forget him." Prideaux and myself had not much money

to spare, but as he was known to be a great scoundrel, we thought it would

not be prudent to make an enemy of him, and therefore sent him, as a token

of friendship, Prideaux's small folding looking-glass, the only presentable

thing we had between us. For some time the looking-glass consolidated our

friendship, but when, on a second application for "tokens," we turned a deaf

ear to his soft words, he would have nothing more to do with as; he called

us bad men, sneered at us, made us take off our caps before him, and even

went so far as to insult Cameron and Stern, shaking his head at them in a

threatening manner as, more or less intoxicated, he left in the afternoon the

room of his beloved and generous friend, Mr. Rassam. Damash had

command of half the gunmen, some 270, the Ras of the rest, about 200.

The third member of council was Bitwaddad Hailo, the best of the lot; he

was in charge of the gaol, but was never known to abuse his position. His

two brothers had commanded our escort from the frontier to the Emperor's

camp in Damot; his mother, a fine old lady, also accompanied us part of the

way: the brothers and the mother had been well treated by us, so that even

before we came to the Amba we were known to him, and he always

conducted himself very civilly, and proved useful on many occasions.

When he heard of Theodore's approach, as he knew that charges were

going, to be brought against him, he ran, away and joined the English camp.

He managed his escape, in a very clever manner indeed. According to the,

rules of the mountain, not even a Bitwaddad could pass the gate without

permission from the Ras, and since desertions had taken place the

permission was no more granted. His wife and child were also on the

Amba, and since he was suspected, if they had left he would have been

strictly watched. His mother had accompanied Theodore's camp, being

desirous of seeing her son. When his Majesty encamped in the valley of the

Bechelo, she asked his permission to be allowed to go to Magdala, and on

her arrival at Islamgee she sent word to her son to give orders at the gate to

let her in; but he declined, stating publicly, as the motive of his refusal, that,

not having received intimation from his Majesty that he had granted her

request, he could not take upon himself to admit her into the fort. The

mother had been made a party to the plot beforehand, and played her part

well; it was market-day, and therefore the place was crowded with soldiers

and petty chiefs. On hearing of her son's refusal to admit her, she pretended

to be driven to despair, tore her hair and cried aloud, quite overcome by the

ingratitude of the son she had made such a long journey to embrace. The

spectators took her part, and, in her name, sent to him again; but he was

firm. "To-morrow," he said, "I will send word to the Emperor; if he allows

you to come I will be only too happy to admit you; to-day, all I can do is to

send you my wife and child to remain with you until the evening." The old

lady, with the wife and child, retired to a quiet corner for a friendly chat,

and when no more noticed, quietly walked away. At about ten at night,

accompanied by one of his men, and assisted by some friends, Hailo made

his escape and rejoined his family.

Another member of council was called Bitwaddad Wassié: he also was in

charge of the prison alternatively with Hailo. He was a good-tempered man,

always laughing, but, it appears, not beloved by the prisoners, for, after the

taking of Magdala, the women flew at him, and gave him a sound thrashing.

He was remarkable in one respect: he would never accept anything, and

though money was repeatedly offered to him he always declined it.

Dedjazmatch Goji, in command of 500 spearmen, a tall old man, was as big

a fool as he was bulky; he loved but one thing, tej, and worshipped but one

being, Theodore. Bitwaddad Bakal, a good soldier, a simple-minded man,

in charge of the Imperial household, and a few insignificant old men,

completed the quorum.

Let us suppose a wet day during the rainy season of 1867. Our money was

getting very scarce, and all communication with Metemma, Massowah, or

Debra Tabor was completely interrupted. War had been talked of more

seriously at home, and, in the absence of news, we were in anxious

expectation of what would be decided. The weather did not permit us to do

much gardening; and other occupations were few. We wrote home, (an

easier task during the rains, as the guards kept to their huts,) studied

Amharic, read the famous Commercial Dictionary , or visited one another,

and smoked bad tobacco, simply to kill time. Mr. Rosenthal, a very clever

linguist, managed, with an Italian Bible, to master that language, and, to

drive away dull care, spent his evenings studying French with only the help

of a portion of Guizot's Histoire de la Civilisation . If it cleared up a little,

we puddled about in the small road between the now increased huts; but

probably, before long, would be scared away by some one shouting out,

—"The Ras and the chiefs are coming!" If we could directly run away we

did so; but if perceived, we had to put on our blandest smile, bow to the

rude inquiry, "How art thou? good afternoon to thee" (the second person

singular is only employed as a sign of disrespect, towards an inferior), and,

O gods! pull off our ragged caps and keep our heads uncovered. To see

them waddling along, ready to burst with self-conceit; whilst we knew that

the clothes they were clad with, and the food they had partaken of that day,

were all purchased with British money, was very annoying. As they

accepted bribes the least they could do was to be civil; on the contrary, they

looked down upon us as if we were semi-idiots, or a species between them

and monkeys,—"white donkeys," as they called us when they spoke of us

among themselves. Preceded by Samuel, they would make straight for Mr.

Rassam's house; they were hardly swore civil to him than to us, though they

always swore to him eternal friendship. I often admired Mr. Rassam's'

patience on these occasions: he could sit, talk, and laugh with them for

hours, gorging them with bumpers of tej until they reeled out of his place,

the laughing-stocks, yet envied objects, of the soldiers who helped them to

regain their homes. On the whole they were a vile set: to please their master

they would have shuddered at no crime, and stopped at no infamy. When

they thought that any cruel act of theirs might please Theodore, their god,

no consideration of friendship or family ties would arrest their hands or

soften their hearts. They came to Mr. Rassam, though he was kind to them,

out of no regard, only because it was part of their instructions, and they

could indulge their appetite for spirituous drinks; but had we been, by want

of money, reduced to appeal to them, I doubt whether they would have

sanctioned for us, to whom they owed so much, even the small pittance

daily doled out to the poor Abyssinian prisoners.

About that time these wretches had a good opportunity of showing their

zeal for their beloved master. One Saturday two prisoners took advantage of

the bustle always attending market-days, to attempt their escape. One of

them, Lij Barié, was the son of a chief in Tigré; some years before he had

been imprisoned on "suspicion," or, more likely, because he might prove

dangerous, as he was much liked in his province. His companion was a

young lad, a semi-Galla, from the Shoa frontier, who had been kept for

years in chains on the Amba awaiting his trial. One day, as he was cutting

wood, a large splinter flew off, and, striking his mother in the chest, caused

her death. Theodore was, at the time, on an expedition, and to conciliate the

Bishop, he made over the case to him; who, however, declined to

investigate it as it did not fall under his jurisdiction. Theodore, vexed at the

Bishop's refusal, sent the lad to Magdala, where he was chained, awaiting

the good pleasure of his judges. Lij Barié had only been able to open one of

the rings, the other being too strong; so he fastened the chain and ring on

one leg by means of a large bandage as well as he could, and put on the

shirt and cloth of one of the servant-girls, who was in his confidence, and,

carrying on his shoulder the gombo (earthen jar for water), left the prison

inclosure without being seen. The boy had fortunately been able to get rid

of his fetters altogether, and he slipped out also without being noticed; not

being encumbered with much clothing, and quite free in his limbs, he soon

reached the gate, passed out with the followers of some chief, and was

already far away and in safety before his disappearance was noticed.

Lij Barié failed in his attempt. What with the chain fastened on one leg, the

woman's dress, and the gombo, he could not advance quickly. He was,

however, already half way between the prison and the gate, somewhere not

far from our inclosure, when a young man, perceiving a good-looking girl

coming in his direction, advanced to speak to her; but as he came closer, his

eyes fell upon the bandage, and to his astonishment he saw a piece of chain

peeping through the interstices of the cloth. He guessed at once that this

was a prisoner endeavouring to escape, and followed the individual until he

met some soldiers; he told them his suspicions, and they fell upon Lij Barié

and made him a prisoner. A crowd soon collected around the unfortunate

young man, and the alarm being given that a prisoner had been seized as he

was endeavouring to escape, several of the guards rushed to the spot, and at

once recognizing their old inmate, claimed him as their property. In an

instant all his clothes were torn off his back, and the cowardly ruffians

struck him with the butt-ends of their lances, and with the back of their

swords, until his whole body was a mass of wounds and sores, and he lay

senseless, nearly dead, on the ground. But even this was not enough to

satisfy their savage revenge; they carried him off to the prison, hammered

on hand and foot chains, placed a long heavy log of wood round his neck,

put his feet in the stocks, and left him there for days, more dead than alive,

until the good pleasure of the Emperor should be known.

An immediate search was made for his companion and for the servant-girl,

his accomplice. The first was already beyond their reach, but they

succeeded in capturing the unfortunate young woman. The Ras and council

immediately assembled, and condemned her to receive, in front of the

Emperor's house, one hundred blows from the heavy girãf. The next

morning the Ras, accompanied by a large number of chiefs and soldiers,

came to the spot to witness the execution of the sentence. The girl was

thrown down on the ground, stripped of her skirt, and leather ropes tied to

her feet and hands to keep her at full stretch. A strong, powerful ruffian was

entrusted with the execution of the punishment. Each fall of the whip could

be heard from our inclosure, resounding like a pistol-shot; every blow tore

off a strip of flesh; and after every ten strokes the girãf became so heavy

with blood that, it had to be wiped before the operation could be continued.

She never said a word, nor even groaned. When she was removed, after the

hundredth stroke, the naked ribs and the back-bone were visible through the

flowing blood: the whole of the flesh of the back having been torn to pieces.

Some time afterwards a messenger brought back Theodore's answer. Lij

Barié was first to have his hands and feet cut off, before all the Abyssinian

prisoners, and afterwards to be thrown over the precipice. The chiefs made

quite a holiday of that execution; and even sent a polite message to Samuel

requesting him to "come and see the fun." Lij Barié was brought out, a

dozen of the bravest fell upon him at once; and, with their ungainly blunt

swords, hacked away at his hands and feet with all the delight an

Abyssinian has for spilling blood. Whilst submitting to this agonizing

torture, Lij Barié never lost his courage or presence of mind, and it is very

remarkable that whilst they were so unmercifully murdering him, he

prophesied, almost to a letter, the fate that before long awaited them. "You

cowards," he shouted out, "fit servants of the robber your master! He can

seize no man but by treachery; and you can kill them only when they are

unarmed and in your power. But before long the English will come to

release their people; they will avenge in your blood the ill treatment you

have inflicted upon their countrymen, and punish, you and your master for

all your cowardice, cruelties, and murders." The wretches took little notice

of the dying words of the brave lad; they hurled him over the precipice, and,

in a body, walked over to our place to finish the day, so well begun, by

partaking of Mr. Rassam's generous hospitality.

CHAPTER XIV.

Second Rainy Season ends—Scarcity and Dearness of Provisions—

Meshisha and Comfou plot their Escape—They succeed—Theodore is

robbed—Damash pursues the Fugitives—The Night Attack—The Galla

War-cry and the "Sauve qui peut"—The wounded left on the Field—

Hospitality of the Gallas —Theodore's Letter on the Subject—Mastiate's

Troubles—Wakshum Gabra Medhin—Sketch of Gobazé's Career—He

invites the Co-operation of the Bishop in seizing Magdala—The Bishop's

Plan—All the rival Chiefs intrigue for the Amba—Mr. Rassam's Influence

overrated.

Another Maskal (Feast of the Cross) had gone by and September ushered in

fine, pleasant weather. No important change had taken place in our daily

life: it was the same routine over again; only we were beginning to be very

anxious about the long delay of our messengers from the coast, as our

money was running short: indeed, we had hardly any left, and every

necessary of life had risen to fabulous prices. Five oblong pieces of salt

were now given in exchange for a Maria Theresa dollar, whilst formerly, at

Magdala, during their first captivity, our companions had often got as much

as thirty, never less than fifteen or eighteen. Though the value of the salt

had so greatly increased, the articles purchased with it had not followed the

same proportion, they were, on the contrary, lowered in amount and quality.

When the salts were abundant we could buy four old fowls for a salt; now

that they were scarce, we could only buy two; and everything in the same

ratio; consequently all our expenses had risen 200 per cent. Supplies. in the

market were also getting very scarce; and often we could not purchase grain

for our Abyssinian servants. The soldiers on the mountain suffered greatly

from this scarcity and high prices; they were continually begging, and

many, no doubt, were saved from starvation by the generosity of those they

kept prisoners. Very fortunately, I had put aside a small sum of money in

case of accident, otherwise I believe the Abyssinian difficulty would have

been at an end, so far as we were concerned. I kept a little for myself, and

handed the rest over to Mr. Rassam, as he usually supplied us with money

from the sums forwarded to him by the agent at Massowah. We dismissed

as many servants as we possibly could, reduced our expenses to a

minimum, and sent messengers after messengers to the coast to bring us up

as much money as they could. At that time, if we had fortunately been

provided with a large sum of ready cash, I do really believe that we might

have bought the mountain; so discouraged and mutinous were the soldiers

of the garrison at the long privations and semi-starvation they were

enduring for a master of whom they had no reliable information. The agent

at the coast did his best. Hosts of messengers had been despatched, but the

condition of the country was such that they had to bury the money they

were carrying in the house of a friend at Adowa, and abide there for several

months, until they could, with great prudence and by travelling only at

night, venture to pass through districts infested with thieves, and a prey to

the greatest anarchy.

On the morning of the 5th of September, whilst at breakfast, one of our

interpreters rushed into the hut, and told us that our friend Afa Negus

Meshisha (the lute-player), and Bedjerand Comfou, one of the officers in

charge of the godowns, had run away. Theirs was a long-preconcerted and

ably managed plan. At the beginning of the rainy season, ground had been

allotted to the various, chiefs and soldiers, at Islamgee and at the foot of the

mountain. Some of the chiefs made arrangements with the peasants living

below for them to till the soil on their account, they supplying the seed

grain, and the harvest to be divided between the two; others, who had many

servants, did the work themselves. Afa Negus Meshisha's and Bedjerand

Comfou's lots happened to be at the foot of the mountain; they themselves

undertook the cultivation, occasionally visited their fields, and sent once or

twice a week all their male and female servants to pull out the weeds under

the superintendence of their wives. The whole of the land they had received

had not been put under cultivation, and, a few days before, Comfou spoke

to the Ras about it, who advised him to sow some tef, as, with the

prevailing scarcity, he would be happy to reap a second harvest. Comfou

approved of the idea, and asked the Ras to send him a servant on the

morning of the 5th, to allow him to pass the gates. The Ras agreed. On that

very morning Meshisha went to the Ras, and told him that he also wanted to

sow some tef, and asked him to allow him to go down. The Ras, who had

not the slightest suspicion, granted his request. Both had that morning sent

down several of their servants to weed the fields, and, not to excite

suspicion, had sent their wives by another gate, also under the same

pretence. As the Gallas often attacked the soldiers of the garrison at the foot

of the mountain, the door-keepers were not surprised to see the two officers

well armed and preceded by their mules; nor did they take much notice of

the bags their followers carried, when they were told that it was tef they

were going to sow, a statement moreover corroborated by the Ras's servant

himself. Off they started in open daylight, meeting many of the soldiers of

the mountain on the way down. Arrived, at the fields, they told their

servants to follow them, and made straight for the Galla plain. Some of the

soldiers who were at the time working at their fields suspected that all was

not right, and at once returned to the Amba and communicated their

suspicions to the Ras. He had but to take a telescope to perceive the two

friends winding their way in the distance along the road that led to the Galla

plain. All the garrison was at once called out, and an immediate pursuit

ordered; but during the interval the fugitives had gained ground, and were at

last perceived quietly resting on the plain above, in company with such a

respectable-looking body of Galla horsemen that prudence dictated to the

braves of Magdala the advisability of not following any further. On their

way back they found, hiding herself in the bushes, the wife of Comfou,

carrying her infant babe in her arms. It appears that, flurried and excited,

that young woman failed to find the place of rendezvous, and was

concealing herself until the soldiers had passed by, when the cries of her

child attracted their attention. She was triumphantly brought back, chained

hand and feet, and cast into the common gaol, "awaiting orders."

Whilst the garrison had been sent on their unsuccessful errand, the chiefs

had met together, and as one of the runaways was superintendent of the

storehouses and magazines, an immediate search was made, in order to

ascertain whether he had helped himself to some of the "treasures" before

taking his unceremonious leave. To their horror they soon found out that

silks, caps, powder, even the Emperor's gala dress, his favourite pistol and

rifle, together with a large sum of money, were missing: in fact, the bags of

tef were full of spoils. The Ras felt the gravity of his position; he had not

only allowed himself to be grossly duped, but, moreover, some of the most

valuable of the Emperor's property intrusted to his care had been carried off

by his former friend. He utterly lost his head; he painted to himself

Theodore's rage on hearing the news; he saw himself an inmate of the gaol,

loaded with fetters, or perhaps condemned to a speedy and cruel death. He

assembled the council, and laid the case before the chiefs; the wisest and

most experienced were for trusting to his relationship with the Emperor, and

to his well-known friendship for him; others proposed an expedition in the

Galla country, a night attack on the village where it was supposed the

fugitive would spend the nights: a few hundred would start in the evening,

they said, surprise the fugitives, bring them back, recover the lost property,

and, at the same time, murder a few Gallas, and plunder as much as they

could—exploits that would immensely gratify their royal master, and make

him forget the easy way the Ras had been imposed upon.

This last advice was carried out; and, though some still dissented, the Ras

overruled their objections: he was already so deeply compromised that he

clutched at every chance that offered itself of retrieving his position.

Bitwaddad Damash, the friend and countryman of Theodore, the brave

warrior, was intrusted with the command; under him were, placed

Bitwaddad Hailo, Bitwaddad Wassié, and Dedjazmatch Goji, all of them

"old friends of ours," and of whom I have given a short description. Two

hundred of Damash's gunmen, and two hundred of Goji's spearmen, all

picked soldiers, well armed and well mounted, formed the attacking party.

Towards sunset they all assembled. Before leaving, Damash, clad in a silk

shirt, wearing gallantly over his shoulders a splendid tiger's skin, armed

with a pair of pistols and a double-barrelled gun; came to our prison to bid

us good-by; or rather to gratify his vanity by our compelled admiration, and

to obtain a parting blessing from his friend Mr. Rassam, who courteously

performed the ceremony.

Twice before, Damash had, during our stay at Magdala, started for Watat, a

village some twelve miles distant from Magdala, not far from where the

Bechelo separates the province of Worahaimanoo from the plateau of

Dahonte. There the Emperor's cattle were kept, and messengers had been

sent to the Amba by the peasants requesting immediate assistance, as a

Galla force had made its appearance, and they felt themselves unable to

protect Theodore's cows. On these occasions the very sight of Damash and

his gunmen had driven the Gallas away: at least so they said on their return;

but mauvaises langues asserted that it was only a trick of the country people

themselves, who desired to be reported to the Emperor as faithful subjects

of his and anxious to protect the cattle they had in charge. Many of the

younger and inexperienced soldiers felt confident that on this occasion the

result would be the same; the fugitives would be surprised, and the Gallas

run away in all directions at the sight of Damash and his valiant

companions, leaving their homesteads and property at the mercy of the

invaders.