As far as I could learn, the Chinga people could muster about five thousand fighting men, reckoning in the other tribes who were standing in with them, and the only course open to me was to stand on the defensive. Bartier promised to give me all the help he could, but I could see that his people were terribly afraid, and I could quite understand their feeling, as, if they befriended me, and it should so happen that the Chinga people wiped me out, then they would be in for it. Bartier did, however, give me all the information he could, and assisted me as much as I could reasonably expect from him under the circumstances. At the same time, I could see that he was badly frightened, which, perhaps, was only natural, seeing that the other side were so strong, and seemed quite determined to carry things on to the bitter end. They had already commenced hostilities by murdering my two men, and, fired by their success in wiping out the other safari, were burning to get at me. Since the wholesale murder of the Goanese and their followers they had been rejoicing and feasting and drinking a lot of njohi, and now they were dancing about in paroxysms of mad fury, all alike being possessed with the war fever and ready at any moment to break loose upon us, while we could only wait their first move and take every precaution we could think of.
We were camping right on the boundary of the two countries, and could plainly hear them shouting, so I sent out some of Bartier’s men, with some of my own, to scout, with orders to hang about in the bush and in the shambas and try to find out what the plans of the enemy were. About midnight news was brought in that a large force of natives was gathered in one of the clearings about a mile from camp, where they usually held their war-dances, and were drinking and feasting and discussing how they should attack us. This threw all the people about us into a state of panic, expecting every minute that the crowd assembling in the clearing would be rushing down on us, though I knew that this would be a most unusual thing for them to do, as savages very rarely rush a camp at night, usually reserving their attack till dawn; still, having had such success before, and having been drinking, I thought that there was a reasonable possibility that they might depart from their usual rule on this occasion. Of course, sleep was out of the question, and everybody had to stand to arms. A large number of Bartier’s people were in my camp, and every one was in a state of nervous expectancy. Eventually a dead silence reigned, the effect of which, when surrounded by a host of armed foes, I have endeavoured to describe before. I had experienced the same feeling during the night we were surrounded by the natives at Tato. The feeling of depression was almost unbearable, and was not lessened by the loneliness of my position, out in the midst of a wild country, far removed from any white man, waiting in momentary expectation of the rush of a frenzied horde of yelling savages thirsting for the blood—and loot—of the white man who had so far defied all attempts to blot him out, and seemed only to gain fresh power in the country after every attempt that was made against him. The situation was nerve-trying in the extreme, and after an hour or so of waiting in this horrible silence I wanted to shout in sheer desperation or do anything rather than endure the inactivity any longer. I felt the responsibility for the safety of the followers I had brought into this position and the risk of losing the whole fruits of my twelve months’ trying experiences, and could not sit still, but had to keep moving about. Even the movement did not serve to relieve the tension, and I felt that if I did not do something quickly I should be getting hysterical, so I quickly decided to put into action an idea which had been gradually forming in my brain of giving my friends the enemy a surprise, instead of waiting for them to try to give me one.