A few miles’ further progress brought the gunboats to their destination, and they made fast to the bank near the old Government buildings of the town.  Major Marchand’s party consisted of eight French officers or non-commissioned officers, and 120 black soldiers drawn from the Niger district.  They possessed three steel boats fitted for sail or oars, and a small steam launch, the Faidherbe, which latter had, however, been sent south for reinforcements.  They had six months’ supplies of provisions for the French officers, and about three months’ rations for the men; but they had no artillery, and were in great want of small-arm ammunition.  Their position was indeed precarious.  The little force was stranded, without communications of any sort, and with no means of either withstanding an attack or of making a retreat.  They had fired away most of their cartridges at the Dervish foraging party, and were daily expecting a renewed attack.  Indeed, it was with consternation that they had heard of the approach of the flotilla.  The natives had carried the news swiftly up the river that the Dervishes were coming back with five steamers, and for three nights the French had been sleeplessly awaiting the assault of a powerful enemy.

Their joy and relief at the arrival of a European force were undisguised.  The Sirdar and his officers on their part were thrilled with admiration at the wonderful achievements of this small band of heroic men.  Two years had passed since they left the Atlantic coast.  For four months they had been absolutely lost from human ken.  They had fought with savages; they had struggled with fever; they had climbed mountains and pierced the most gloomy forests.  Five days and five nights they had stood up to their necks in swamp and water.  A fifth of their number had perished; yet at last they had carried out their mission and, arriving at Fashoda on the 10th of July, had planted the tricolour upon the Upper Nile.

Moved by such reflections the British officers disembarked.  Major Marchand, with a guard of honour, came to meet the General.  They shook hands warmly.  ‘I congratulate you,’ said the Sirdar, ’on all you have accomplished.’  ‘No,’ replied the Frenchman, pointing to his troops; ‘it is not I, but these soldiers who have done it.’  And Kitchener, telling the story afterwards, remarked, ‘Then I knew he was a gentleman.’

Into the diplomatic discussions that followed, it is not necessary to plunge.  The Sirdar politely ignored the French flag, and, without interfering with the Marchand Expedition and the fort it occupied, hoisted the British and Egyptian colours with all due ceremony, amid musical honours and the salutes of the gunboats.  A garrison was established at Fashoda, consisting of the XIth Soudanese, four guns of Peake’s battery, and two Maxims, the whole under the command of Colonel Jackson, who was appointed military and civil commandant of the Fashoda district.