“Mr. Stanley and myself are soon ready. The _Lady Alice_ is unmoored; luggage, sheep, goats, and poultry are already stowed away in their places. There is nothing to be done except to hoist the American flag and head the boat southwards. I accompany Stanley to his boat; we shake hands and commend each other to the care of God. Stanley takes the helm; the _Lady Alice_ immediately swerves like a spirited horse, and bounds forward, lashing the water of the Nyanza into foam. The starry flag is hoisted, and floats proudly in the breeze; I immediately raise a loud hurrah with such hearty good will as perhaps never before greeted the traveller’s ears. “The _Lady Alice_ is already far away. We wave our handkerchiefs as a last farewell; my heart is full; I have just lost a brother. I had grown used to seeing Stanley, the open-hearted, sympathetic man and friend and admirable traveller. With him I forgot my fatigue; this meeting had been like a return to my own country. His engaging instructive conversation made the hours pass like minutes. I hope I may see him again, and have the happiness of spending several days with him.” ----- # 12: Wakungu is the plural of _mkungu_, a rank equivalent to “general.” Watongoleh is the plural of _mtongoleh_, or “colonel.” # 13: In the original manuscript, which is in the possession of General C. P. Stone, Chief of the Staff in his Highness the Khedive’s service, M. Linant has alluded in the most flattering manner to these hours devoted to religious instruction. CHAPTER X. Parting with Colonel Linant—Magassa’s vanity and disloyalty—The sailor’s island—Jumba’s Cove—Uganga—Dumo—The Alexandra Nile—Lupassi Point—In danger at Makongo—Alone with Nature—Insect life—Dreams of a happier future—A dark secret—Murabo and the fish—Alice Island—A night never to be forgotten—The treachery of Bumbireh—Saved!—Refuge Island—Wiru—“Go and die in the Nyanza!”—Back in camp—Sad news. _April 17._—“Adieu! adieu! mon ami Linant! Remember my words, I shall return within a month; if not, present my compliments to your friends at Ismailia (Gondokoro), and tell them they may see me on the Albert Nyanza,” were the last words I said to M. Linant de Bellefonds, as I seated myself in my boat on the morning of the 17th of April.[14] We had scarcely gone three miles on our voyage, before the vanity of the youth Magassa exceeded all bounds. Deeming it prudent—before it was too late—to lecture him, and hold out prospects of a reward conditional upon good behaviour, I called to him to approach me, as I had something to say to him. He would not come, but continued on his way with a slight grimace and a saucy inclination of the head. I reserved the lecture until we should arrive in camp.