They were confronted with
the fact that a 'friendly Power' had, unprovoked, endeavoured to rob them
of the fruits of their victories. They now realised that while they had
been devoting themselves to great military operations, in broad daylight
and the eye of the world, and prosecuting an enterprise on which they had
set their hearts, other operations--covert and deceitful--had been in
progress in the heart of the Dark Continent, designed solely for the
mischievous and spiteful object of depriving them of the produce of their
labours. And they firmly set their faces against such behaviour.
First of all, Great Britain was determined to have Fashoda or fight;
and as soon as this was made clear, the French were willing to give way.
Fashoda was a miserable swamp, of no particular value to them. Marchand,
Lord Salisbury's 'explorer in difficulties upon the Upper Nile,'
was admitted by the French Minister to be merely an 'emissary of
civilisation.' It was not worth their while to embark on the hazards and
convulsions of a mighty war for either swamp or emissary. Besides, the plot
had failed. Guy Fawkes, true to his oath and his orders, had indeed reached
the vault; but the other conspirators were less devoted. The Abyssinians
had held aloof. The negro tribes gazed with wonder on the strangers,
but had no intention of fighting for them. The pride and barbarism of the
Khalifa rejected all overtures and disdained to discriminate between the
various breeds of the accursed 'Turks.
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