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Updated: June 13, 2025
"I want to belong to both sides of the Sagalac, I want both sides to belong to each other so that either side shall not be my side or your side, or " "Or Monsieur Felix Marchand's side," she interrupted meaningly. "Oh, he's on the outside!" snapped the fighter, with a hardening mouth.
Trenches also had been dug and Marchand's party were completely hemmed in from the landward side as well as by water, the gunboats controlling the river. The Shilluks had all gone over and put themselves under Major Jackson and the Khedivial flag. A sort of bazaar had been started and the country was already making for peace. There was universal rejoicing at the downfall of the Khalifa.
On the contrary, if their allegiance to the Bourbons is but pretended, and if their attachment to their old commander should revive, it is to be dreaded that this impulse will have an irresistible effect upon the troops; and if Marchand's division joins him, all is irretrievably lost: He will be at the head of a force sufficient to enable him to dictate terms to Lyons, and the pernicious example of so great a body of troops will poison the allegiance of the rest of the army.
Felix Marchand's profiting by a mistake of mine a mistake in policy. It gives him his springboard; and there's enough dry grass in both towns to get a big blaze with a very little match. I know that things are seething. The Chief Constable keeps me posted as to what's going on here, and pretty fairly as to what's going on in Manitou. The police in Manitou are straight enough. That's one comfort.
The date was the 25th of August. Behaving with great steadiness, and helped by Shilluks, after a stiff fight the dervishes were driven off, after losing a number of men, by Marchand's little garrison. "If they had had cannon," said the dervish skipper to me, "they fired so well that they would have sunk our steamers."
Ingolby's eyes opened wide when he saw Marchand's ugly game. He loathed the dissolute fellow, but he realized now that his foe was a factor to be reckoned with, for Marchand had plenty of money as well as a bad nature. He saw he was in for a big fight with Manitou, and he had to think it out. So this time he went pigeon-shooting. He got his pigeons, and the slaughter did him good.
The thought of the bridge, of Marchand's devilish design, shot into his mind, and once more he was shaken. "The bridge! Blind! Mother!" he called in a voice twisted in an agony which only those can feel to whom life's purposes are even more than life itself. Then, with a moan, he became unconscious, and his head rolled over against Rockwell's cheek.
Another hitch occurred, the French Government stating that Marchand's report made no allusion to the meeting with the Sirdar at Fashoda. That they would have to wait for before giving an answer. Marchand, it was alleged, had not had time to bring his report down to date, when Baratier left him.
Barbazon asked, his beady eyes fastened on Marchand's face. "Something worth while-better than all the rest." Barbazon's low forehead seemed to disappear almost, as he drew the grizzled shock of hair down, by wrinkling his forehead with a heavy frown. "It's no damn good, m'sieu'," he growled. "Am I a fool?
Then he turned and followed Fleda and the woman in black. Felix Marchand's face was twisted with hate as he got slowly to his feet. "You'll eat dust before I'm done," he called after Ingolby. Then, amid the jeers of the crowd, he went back to the tavern where he had been carousing. A word about Max Ingolby.
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