Chapter V

On the morning of December 31, the donkeys were laden and our journey was begun by a quarter to eight. We were again hindered on the march by the shifting of the donkeys’ loads.

Our track now lay among craggy mountains, in the rain-scoured district, where there is no single human habitation. I saw neither wild beast nor bird, and the country gave a strange impression of stillness and lifelessness. The flora is quite distinct from that of the Soudan. The trees are tall and spreading and of many different species. I recognized the “Matabele apple,” and saw the hard, uneatable fruit on the branches. The ground in many places was covered with “bamboo grass,” too high for a mounted man to look over, and the thick, overtopping growth seemed to shut out the air. As we advanced during the afternoon we discovered that the grass had been fired at several spots along our route—I do not know by whom, or whether it was kindled accidentally or by design. The flames drove out some partridges, and Dupuis and I thought that we saw a tasty breakfast for the next morning. But when we moved forward with our guns the birds, to our amazement, ran back into the burning cover. The fire died out in the evening, and all was quiet at night.

There is much stony land in this district. The soil of the fertile tracts is not of the friable kind which we had so often seen in the Soudan: but there are many fissures in it, due, no doubt, to alternate drenching and drying in the rainy season. Our road often lay along steep and wide gorges, through which an enormous volume of water descends to the Atbara at the time of the floods. My mule was very steady on his legs and the motion was easy when he trotted on open ground. He only showed the waywardness of his kind when I led him. It was pleasant to think that some sort of understanding existed between the rider and his mount after one had been accustomed for weeks to the impassive eye of the camel.

On January 1, a couple of shabby fellows visited our camp in the morning. We questioned them and found, from the answers which Johannes translated, that they were the escort sent to accompany Gwynn and were on the way to join him at Gallabat. He might consider their company a sign that he was honoured, but scarcely a sound protection against robbery. We struck our camp after this and commenced the day’s journey, following the bed of a river. As usual, there were dry tracts and well filled pools in its course. Later, we climbed the bank and struck into the country beyond, continually riding up hill and down dale. Again we saw an abundance of tall grass and fine timber. The former was dry at this season, and had been burned in many places. The country here abounds in big game, but the height and thickness of the grass make it very difficult to sight animals. We saw a koodoo, three gazelles, traces of elephants, and spoor of other beasts, but none came within range.

We had covered fourteen miles by half-past eleven, and then halted, considering that the donkeys had journeyed far enough. Our progress depended on them, and we were careful not to overwork them. Three were suffering from girth sores. We pitched our camp in a ravine about a quarter of a mile distant from the bed of the Gundar Wahar—which is the river Atbara with an Abyssinian name.

One of our escort was reported ill with fever, and I found that his temperature was 104 degrees. But quinine had brought about a decisive improvement by nightfall. I had another patient. My friend Crawley had chafed his instep, and there was a bad sore on it. I had recourse to a little doctor’s diplomacy to keep him still, and put on such a large fomentation that he could not walk. Then Dupuis and I took our guns and rifles and tramped in the jungle—for the mass of thick, lofty grass deserved the name. My companion shot a brace of partridges, and we saw some guinea-fowl, and much spoor of big game. But nothing more got into our bag, and the excursion was wearisome and disappointing.

On January 2 our road again lay through hilly, verdurous country. While the donkeys climbed or descended the steep inclines their loads slipped as before, and kept all hands busy. The boys were continually shouting for help, and the burdens were replaced amid yelling and cursing. These natives never worked without talking, singing, or swearing, and they were specially fond of hearing their own oaths. But, I think, very little ill-will went with the words, and in spite of the endless imprecations uttered over the donkeys, they treated the animals well.

During the morning I took my rifle, filled my pockets with ball cartridges, and rode ahead of our party in the hope of trying a shot at big game. But I found small parties of Habashes[30] at intervals along the track throughout a distance of two miles in front of our convoy. Clearly it would be useless to search for any large wild beast in the proximity of these groups. I recognized the men as folk who had attached themselves to our train. They made a practice of camping where we pitched our tents, and had hitherto forestalled us in the choice of ground, and settled under the most suitable trees. They sought protection from the robbers who infest the district—the most notorious at the time was a Soudanese Arab called Hakos. I was glad that these wayfarers should enjoy a sense of security, but resented having sport spoiled. So I addressed a remonstrance to Johannes, who promised that all camp followers should keep in the rear in future, and he was as good as his word.

That afternoon we pitched our tents on the banks of the Gundar Wahar, which was here a stream trickling from pool to pool. We had travelled about fourteen miles. My friend Dupuis fitted out his angling tackle, and tried his fortune in some of the pools, using an ordinary spoon-bait. He caught three fair-sized fish, belonging to the perch family. I saw him land the biggest, which weighed six pounds, and showed fight. It had to be played into the shallows, and was brought ashore in smart style. Crawley, who was lame, limped to the edge of the river and cast a line with dough on the hook. He fished patiently, and his perseverance was rewarded with two little creatures of the size of sticklebacks.

All the camping-grounds by the waterside in this district are called _warshas_, and as there are few distinctive names for places in the uninhabited tract, we called the spots where we halted _warsha_ number one, _warsha_ number two, and so on.

In this region, near the rivers, the white ants are extremely numerous. They are not seen at a distance from water, and cannot work without moisture to renew the fluid that exudes between their mandibles. This enters into the composition of the stiffened earth of which they build their dwellings. They are voracious and destructive, and have a propensity for gnawing leather, felt—which unfortunately they found in the pads of the donkeys’ saddles—and any textile material. They are most active at night, and, to preserve our bedding, we had provided ourselves with “Willesden sheets.” These are made of canvas coated with a preparation of arsenic, which the white ants avoid. The sheets were always spread under our beds when we camped, and if anything that was to the taste of the ants slid beyond the edge in the dark, destruction awaited it.

I formed the opinion that the white ants have rendered valuable service to Egypt by amassing the fertile mud which is carried down to the Nile Delta, and venture to put forward the following considerations in support of the theory. On entering the Abyssinian borderland, one cannot help remarking the structure of the ground. Our track lay generally along watercourses, and the beds of dry mountain torrents. Here the soil was composed of sand, shingle, and pebbles. On either bank, and for some distance beyond, lay an expanse of basaltic stone, on which little earth was to be seen. Grass grew there, but by no means so abundantly as in the plains, and there were climbing plants, such as convolvulus, and ivy, which clung to nearly every tree. These creepers made the path extremely difficult to follow. Further away from the watercourses lesser vegetation and longer grass appeared. The white ants’ nests, from nine to twelve feet in height, were found here, usually close to a soft wooded tree. The roots of it, in most cases, had been attacked by the insects, and converted into “white ant earth.” The trunk afterwards undergoes the same process, and by the advent of the rainy season only the outlying twigs remain intact. A heavy gust of wind will then overthrow the _simulacrum_ of a tree. The rain falls in torrents, and the compost which the insects have made of the timber is broken up and carried by innumerable channels into the tributaries of the Atbara, and finally reaches the main stream. It is well known that the Atbara brings down the greatest quantity of this mud, the Blue Nile carrying less, and the White Nile, the most sluggish stream of the three, least. The two more rapid rivers rise in Abyssinia, in regions where the white ant is extremely destructive to vegetation. Moreover, the innumerable ant-heaps[31] are made entirely of earth, which crumbles under the rains, and is swept into the watercourses in the season of floods. And in the dry months the ants—besides devouring straw and the bark of living trees[32]—eat into every branch and twig that the past storms have brought to the ground. Carrying earth into their excavations, they hollow the wood, as in the case of the soft standing timber which they attack, and leave just the outer covering intact. I have often stooped to pick up a stick for the cook’s fire, and found that my fingers broke a thin shell of bark, and scattered the contents. Another circumstance which seemed worthy of remark was that we found no deposit of “Nile mud” within the Abyssinian boundary, nor any earth resembling it; so one may conclude that, as soon as the Atbara, when in flood, reaches the level of the Soudan, it spreads a deposit of this fertile soil beside its banks, though the great mass is carried into the Nile. According to this view, the fertility of the alluvial districts of Lower Egypt is in no slight measure due to _detritus_ from Abyssinia, and the white ants have contributed an important share to the resources of the Nile valley. Of course, I do not for an instant contend that all the mud deposited by the river in Egypt is supplied by the white ants, but I believe that the wonderful productive property of the alluvial deposits is due to the work of these insects in the western borderland of Abyssinia. Therefore, in my belief, the white ant has justified its existence, though its room is undeniably preferable to its company.

On January 3 I saw a buffalo, tried to stalk it, and lost it. While I was on the way to rejoin our party, a water-buck sprang up within range—and so startled me, that he got away before I took an aim.

That day we marched seven hours, and covered twenty miles. Our camping-place was in the rocky course which a torrent follows in the rainy season. There were pools in it, and we had an abundance of clear water.

The aneroid barometer showed that we were now three thousand feet above the sea, and the air was chill as soon as the sun went down. It was the first day on which we had reached any considerable height. At this altitude bamboos form the prominent and characteristic vegetation.

On January 4 we continued our ascent. The narrow path followed a zig-zag course up a steep mountain-side. The track was full of loose stones, and we constantly had to “negotiate” boulders and big rocks or scramble through cramped passes. In these the larger loads stuck, and it will be readily inferred that we made slow progress. I heard of no other practicable route through this region, and believe that it would be well-nigh impossible to carry heavy baggage this way.

We reached the summit at last, and saw in front of us, in the distance, the plateau in which Lake Tsana lies. We were almost on a level with it. Far away, many mountains rose in view, clearly outlined, and showing light and shade in a soft and lovely purplish blue colour. There was no glacial cap upon these high peaks, though it is probable that the loftiest points in Abyssinia are within the line of perpetual snow.[33]

One of our escort of Habashes from the Arab Battalion pointed eagerly to the high lands opposite, and said to a Soudanese boy who was standing near, “Look at my beautiful country!” The soldier’s manner showed all the zest of a schoolboy returning home for the holidays. The answer was, “Call this a country! Where are the people?” Our men from Upper Egypt were puzzled and disdainful. They had travelled eighty-six miles in Abyssinia and had not seen a dwelling or a sign of cultivation.

A deep ravine lay below us, and we descended through it and entered a great gorge which opened out as we advanced. We were on rocky ground, covered with a layer of earth and loose stones. Our track wound through dense groves of bamboos, and we had to perform gymnastics on muleback to avoid a whipping from the canes. In this uncomfortable covert we passed a party of traders taking coffee to Gallabat. They had with them about sixty loads.

Presently our convoy, which in extended order covered nearly a mile and a half, debouched upon the valley of the river Geerar.[34] The bed, which is of bare rock, was dry when we passed through it. I saw here many basins neatly excavated in a curious fashion. They varied in size, but at the bottom of each was a stone. Evidently, this had first been lodged during the time of flood in some small hollow in the water-course. There, being constantly driven round by the eddying water, it had worn a deeper and deeper hole, at the bottom of which it rested in the dry season. We followed the course of the river up stream for about five miles.

The valleys on either side are sharply cut ravines in the mountain-sides. They were covered with grass at that period of the year.

We lunched in the shade of the river bank, and afterwards visited some hot springs which were near at hand. The first was a runnel of clear water guided from its source in the rock to a pool by a wooden gutter. I put my hand under this, and judged that the temperature was well over 150° F. At a little distance we found another spring which, welling from the ground, filled a basin about forty feet in circumference and one foot deep. Here, too, the temperature of the water was high, but not so high as to prevent bathing, and a roof of thatch had been built over the pool. We saw several Habashes, men, women, and children, who inhabited some rough, small thatched huts which had been put up close by. Some were old dwellings, some newly constructed. I could not ascertain whether these people resorted to the springs for a “cure” or merely formed a settlement established by keepers in charge of the place. Apparently all belonged to one family. I visited their camping-ground, but when I approached the women and children bolted into one of the huts. Perhaps they had not seen a European before and did not consider the first example prepossessing; or they may still have supposed—as most Abyssinians at one time did—that all persons who came from that continent were Turks. In the latter case I excuse their timidity. They watched me through the thatched walls of the hovel just as a rat sometimes watches a suspect from the entrance of its hole.

The water, as far as I could judge, was pure. It was tasteless, and very “soft,” as I found by using it in my bath. No steam was visible at the springs, though before I left them—about four in the afternoon—the air was becoming cool. Some large trees grew near the pool, and I saw a big and fine monkey with a shaggy face and a growth of fluffy white hair on its tail leaping and squatting among the boughs.

There are many hot springs in Abyssinia, and they are highly valued by the natives for the medicinal qualities attributed to them. Probably in some places the virtue of the waters is real, in others merely reputed.

The most frequented baths are at Wansage on the River Gumara, which flows into Lake Tsana. Dr. Stecker visited the spot in 1881, and wrote the following brief account of it,[35] which throws a light on Abyssinian social customs: “The hot spring issues from the left bank of the river and rises to a height of two or three metres from the ground. It fills a basin constructed by King Theodore with water of a temperature of 37° C. A hut has been built over the basin”—as at the spring which I saw—“and the Abyssinians who are trying the ‘cure’ here sport in the water all day long. In arrangements these baths resemble Ostend and Trouville in miniature, seeing that women and men, youths and girls, spend their time in the bath in lively promiscuity and keep up an intercourse that is not always decorous. Quarrels often arise among the ‘cure’ patients, especially when some one has used the baths longer than is permitted to him. Thus from early till late one hears the loud tones of the brawlers and the lamentations of women and children, who often come in for a beating on these occasions.”

On January 5 our road lay at first beside the River Geerar, which is the main source of the Rahad. Presently it diverged from the bank, and the track, which lay over stiff hills, became worse. At some points the donkeys could not pass, and we had to lift them bodily, loads and all, over obstructions, or push them past the rocks between which their loads were jammed. Once the animal that was carrying Dupuis’ valise and Gladstone bag, half slipped into a steep ravine with water at the bottom, forty feet below. In another place I saw an unlucky little beast turn two complete somersaults while it tried to scramble down a sloping ledge of rock. To my horror I caught sight of my medical bag on the top of its burden. I rushed up, and helped to unload the donkey, which seemed none the worse for the fall, and, to my astonishment and relief, I found all my doctor’s gear intact. Even the tabloid bottles, with a precious stock of quinine and phenacetine in them, had escaped by a miracle.

In crossing and recrossing the river-bed I was able to note the height to which the floods rise in the water-courses. I saw that flotsam, such as wisps of straw and bits of wood, had been lodged in branches and twigs at least twelve feet above the bed of the stream, and this, in the upper reaches among the hills, has a width of twenty-five to thirty feet on an average.

We camped at the foot of the mountain-side which would give us our final climb to the lake-plateau. Johannes pointed out the route to me, and I thought that one would have as much chance of shoving a donkey up the Great Pyramid as up that sheer precipice.

Some Habashes came to us at the camping-ground, bringing a cow, a chicken and ten eggs. They told us, through Johannes, that the cow was “a present,” and he said that it was worth ten dollars.[36] We decided to offer a “present” of fifteen dollars in return, and counted out the money. To our astonishment, the Habashes marched the cow off, saying that they would not accept the gift. We picked up our coins, feeling rather small. But money is “a good soldier and will on,” as Falstaff had found. In an hour the animal was brought back, and the “presents” were duly exchanged. Then there was a wrangle among our Mohammedans as to the ceremonial proper to be observed in slaying the unlucky cow; for some of the boys were of one sect, some of another. The question was settled after much haggling, and they held high festival and ate meat late into the night. A few choice cuts had been reserved for ourselves, but the bulk of the carcase was handed over to our followers, and they left only niggardly fare for the vultures next morning.

_See p._ 64.]

A very good impression of the character of the country through which we had been marching is given by Mr. Dufton’s short description of it. “The road was very uneven, now ascending a steep mountain-side, now descending into a deep valley. The country was magnificent, far surpassing anything I had previously seen. The high mountains of the Scotch highlands, covered with the fertility of the Rhineland, would best represent it, but the vegetation was of a nature quite different from that of the Rhine, characterized as it was by the luxuriance of the tropics. Once the road skirted the side of a mountain the summit of which, raised one thousand feet above our heads, looked down into a deep valley another thousand feet below our feet. On the opposite side of the valley the land rose to a similarly steep eminence, which, in one part, was connected with that on which we stood by a low chain of undulating ground, so that a pretty little stream at the bottom, like a silver thread in the dark shadow of the mountains, wound about searching for its channel. Fruitful fields hung over it thick at every curve. The hills, of secondary formation, were broken here and there into rocky chasms, through which leaped innumerable falls of water in their downward course to join the stream; and here I saw for the first time the beautiful Euphorbia called the Kolquol, whose dark, candelabra-shaped branches, tipped with bright orange-red flowers, stood out in deep relief from the lighter ground. Bright flowers of every variety, most of which were unknown to me, but amongst others the familiar wild rose, the honeysuckle and the jessamine, lent their beauty and fragrance to the scene.”[37]

The knotted sapling which I photographed in the course of this day’s journey (January 5) has an historical interest which tempts me to moralize on the variability of human fortunes and the happy tranquillity of vegetable life. The tree had been growing in this distorted form since the time of the battle of Gallabat, which was fought between the Dervishes and the Abyssinians in 1889. I have alluded elsewhere to the singular vicissitudes of the fight.[38] The Dervishes, in light order, pursued their foes as far as the lake district, a circumstance which shows that raids are possible even in this difficult country. The Mahdi’s men, like our own War Office on a more recent occasion, had extremely little geographical or topographical information. So the advance party twisted the saplings to mark the route for those who came after them, and to guide the force on its return journey to the Soudan. The trees are the only remaining memorial of the Dervish raid.

_See p._ 66.]

In this region I saw very few birds. But on the night of the 4th, while I was getting ready for bed, I heard one whose notes ascended through a perfect chromatic scale. My friend Dupuis told me that these songsters are common in India, where they are called “brain-fever birds.” Whether he spoke as a humourist or a genuine informant, I cannot say. In the Soudan I had often heard a bird whose notes reversed the process and _descended_ the chromatic scale very perfectly. I omitted to suggest to my companion that he should import some of this species to India and try its performance as a remedy for brain fever.

On the morning of January 6, we started to climb to the plateau in which Lake Tsana lies. The ascent commenced immediately. The narrow track was extremely steep, and, as on the previous day, our path was full of loose stones and led us over great rocks that crop out of the mountain-side. The donkeys were constantly slipping and falling. Some came to a standstill, and refused to budge. We had to shove the animals by main force over boulders and up slippery ledges of rock, and at places not a few of them were raised bodily, loads and all, by means of their tails and forelegs, and lifted over obstacles. At this rate of ascending we covered two miles in three hours and a half, and still had a climb of another couple of miles ahead of us. Then the character of the track changed, and we travelled round a horseshoe-shaped chasm, following a path four feet wide, with a sheer precipice four hundred feet deep below us and another rising to the same height above our heads. It was a fine sight, and there is a lovely growth of cactus on the mountain side. Besides, we looked out upon a vast expanse of beautiful scenery, but I felt uncomfortably like the ungodly of whom the psalmist said that they were set in slippery places with a great risk of being cast down and destroyed. “Oh, how suddenly do they consume; perish and come to a fearful end!”[39] It was an inopportune moment to recall the text.

We reached the plateau at last, after another stiff climb upward from the chasm. I need hardly say that the donkeys were utterly fagged out. We had left the mimosas and the bamboos below us, and Dupuis’ aneroid barometer showed that we were some six thousand feet above sea-level. Here many species of cactus, large and small, abounded. The soil on the plateau is rich, and the ground was thickly covered with lush plants in blossom. I noticed, as I passed, the familiar “red-hot poker,” the wild strawberry, moss of many hues growing luxuriantly, the maiden-hair fern, and, on the trunk of a dead tree, the Tonbridge fern. Many springs were bubbling from the rock, and their courses were marked by the tenderest and brightest tints of this wild mountain garden. I found that Dupuis, who had marched at the head of the column, had been stopped by a couple of soldiers on the edge of the plateau. The Abyssinian “regular” has no uniform, but wears a dirty shama and the rest of the national costume, and carries a rifle of an obsolete French pattern. These men were not acting under Menelek’s orders but had been sent by the deputy of the chief of the village, who was himself absent upon a visit to Ras Gouksha, one of the great feudatories of Western Abyssinia. They said that they had orders to stop the three Englishmen, and I found that Dupuis had arranged to lunch at that spot and await developments.

Presently the “Deputy-Governor” arrived. He was barefoot, and his shama and linen trousers showed that he was a sound observer of Abyssinian custom in respect of cleanliness. He was escorted by some grimy fellows with forbidding faces who carried guns. The “Deputy” bowed low and shook hands with the three Europeans. Then Dupuis offered him a camp-stool for a seat and talked to him, Johannes interpreting. Menelek’s letter, giving us the right to pass freely through any part of his realm and calling on his lieges to assist us, was read, but to our consternation the “Deputy” refused to let us go down to the lake, which was eight miles distant, until we had received permission from his Ras.[40] Three days, he said, would elapse before this could be obtained. We gave him a drink of green chartreuse, and then he promised that he would allot a camping-ground to us about a quarter of a mile from Lake Tsana, but insisted that we must not pitch our camp on the shore.

_See p._ 68.

In Abyssinian intercourse the raising of the shama to cover the nose is an assertion of _superiority_ by the person who so acts; to raise the shama to cover the mouth implies a claim to _equality_. To lower it to the waist is a sign of extreme deference; strictly, it implies servitude.]

After the palaver he remained to watch us. A skin had been spread for him under a tree a few yards distant from us, and he lounged on this, staring at us when we were near, and following all our movements as closely as he could without giving himself trouble. Long grass grew around our camp, and I noticed some tamarind trees. We strolled among these surroundings with our guns and shot a few wild pigeons for dinner. Great numbers of these birds are seen on the high ground. Then, _more anglicano_, we had afternoon tea.

After sunset the air was very keen, and we put on our thickest clothes. The variation between the heat of the day and the cold at night is extreme on the plateau, and of course it is sharply felt. We turned in early and slept in the open. Our guard lay around us; for we were in strange company. Besides the “Deputy,” who might be calculating whether it would pay him better to see what present we should offer and avoid the risk of complications, or to cut our throats as quietly as possible and loot the camp, we had as near neighbours a party of Abyssinian traders on their way to Gallabat with coffee. They had bivouacked under a tree close by. They might or might not be disposed to share in the pillaging, if any took place. In the land of the Negus it is well to remember that “no one is expected to feel ashamed of any crime or vice; and whereas in other countries men in committing serious crimes are morbidly excited, in Abyssinia they are perpetrated with indifference, and generally recounted, sometimes by the individual himself, certainly by others, with gaiety and laughter. . . . Theft is in many provinces regarded as an honourable employment; highway robbery is quite excusable, even if accompanied by homicide.”[41]

After all, we slept as peacefully as if we had been in Anerley or Tooting. On the morning of January 8, we rose when the sun had warmed the air, and ignored the presence of our dirty warder, who still kept us under observation. While we were breakfasting I saw a white umbrella approaching through the long grass, and shortly the priest of the village hard by came in view. Neither the hamlet nor its church was visible from our camp. This divine did not wear a turban, which is the emblem of priestly rank in Abyssinia, but had on his head the old straw lining of a tarboush. His other visible garment consisted of a length of yellow and plum-coloured chintz. He carried a staff surmounted by a cross of filigreed iron. One attendant held over him the white umbrella, which had a blue lining, another bore before him an open book, on one page of which appeared a picture—the quaintly stiff and gaudy depiction of saints and sacred persons which is an unvarying convention of Abyssinian art—and on the other page I saw manuscript in the Amharic or Geez character.

The “Deputy” approached the priest, bowed, and kissed the book, and some of his retainers followed his example. Then Johannes explained to us that it was customary for travellers to make an offering to the church of this village, which is on the boundary of inhabited Abyssinia. Dupuis asked what the usual oblation was, and the “spiritual pastor” had the effrontery to reply, through Johannes, that it was ten dollars. Upon this Dupuis remarked that we had been very badly received and were dissatisfied with our welcome, that hindrances had been put in our way in spite of the terms of the king’s letter, and that he should give no alms to any one.

This declaration disconcerted both the priest and the “Deputy.” The former departed without further parley. The latter continued to follow us and spy upon us. Dupuis and Crawley decided to disregard his prohibition and advance. They moved in front of the column, and took with them Johannes, his two attendants, and eight soldiers. I brought up the rear with a couple of mounted men for escort. My progress was not interrupted, and gradually Lake Tsana came clearly into view. I found, when I rejoined my companions at the camping-ground which they had chosen on the shore, that the “Deputy” had made an attempt to stop them when they were about five miles from the spot. He had given them to understand that they might see the lake, but must not go down to the water’s edge. Dupuis replied that he should regard no such order, and marched ahead. Upon this the “Deputy” shrugged his shoulders, and forthwith took his leave, saying that he must then return to his house, but that he would visit us in the evening, and supposed he would find us on the shore of the lake, as we were resolved to proceed thither. He had an answer in the affirmative, and departed, to the relief of the whole party.