The south-east wind has freshened splendidly, and the log gives five miles. The shores, although very low, are arid, and without cultivation. Right and left are lakes, and near to the one on the left a large village. Half-past nine o’clock; from E.N.E., a moment to W.N.W.; on the point to the right, where the river bends N.W. by W., an old tokul-village; on the left a lake, of half an hour long, which is an ancient river-bed, as perhaps most of them are; therefore the low shores divide them from us. A new forest before us, to which we perhaps shall come. W. by N.: on the left a wretched hamlet with mud-tokuls; but immediately afterwards a long row of regular tokuls, whilst below a broad gohr enters theland about N.N.W., which makes, therefore, these huts an island-city. The people shout and bawl to us, as if we were old acquaintances: the ambak-trees are used here for pallisadoes and screens. But few people are seen, and these only old men and women. The island and village are both called Aquàk, and this is the last possession of the Bunduriàls. On the right shore the Tutuies follow, and the Keks on the left. About ten o’clock we stop below this city of the Bunduriàls. In the middle of the river a small island lies; level low country, with narrow pools, and behind it the Haba lie opposite to us, about half an hour distant. I despatch two servants to the village, to make some purchases, but the women seize large pieces of ambak-wood, and will not allow them to enter their harìm city.
Half-past twelve o’clock, off again to N.E., and immediately on the right to E., where the violent east wind throws us, for amusement, on the left shore. One o’clock, N.W., then soon E.N.E., and a quarter before two, in the bend N.E. and N.N.W. From the deck, we perceive two villages on both sides. Two o’clock, N. by E., in the bend further to N.N.E.; on the left a pastoral village, then to the left N.W. How it delights my heart to think that the favourable south-east wind brings me every moment nearer to Khartùm—to my brother! Half-past two, N. and N.W. by N.: a pastoral village at the left; a quarter before three, N. by N.E., and round the left to N.W. Three tokul villages in the country to the left. Three o’clock, W.; on the left shore a pastoral village; before us, in the distance, a forest. From the deck, I see behind the last-named villageanother pastoral one. A quarter after three o’clock, with a short bend to N.N.W., where a black tokul village, behind the shadow of heavy clouds, looks like an old castle with several pinnacles, until the latter disappear, and a row of forty-five tokuls is formed. A small gohr enters below to N.N.W., which, as seen from the deck, widens, and has a tokul-village in its neighbourhood. Another little gohr to the left, from N. to N.E., connected with the preceding one, leads probably to a lake, for the left shore hardly rises above the river. The right and blackened shore is also scarcely four feet high. A quarter before four o’clock, from N.W., in a bend along reeds standing in water, which, being slightly rustled by the south-east wind, strike leaves and sprout, such as I have not seen for a long time: to N. where a long shining road extends before us. On the right two islets, verdant like the new-born low country of the right shore; another larger island joins the second for a few paces, and a fresh one is united to it close to the shore, which appears here again to be scorched. On the left some other green bushes of reeds are standing, and behind them, we perceive from the deck a tokul-village. Four o’clock; from N.W. to W. by N.; on the left a pastoral village, and then N.N.W. The forest, about an hour distant from the left shore, where a pastoral hamlet stands, stretches from S. to W. To my joy, young reeds extend from the right corner, in a long bend with the river to N.E.
Half-past four o’clock, again in a long bend from N.E. to N.N.E., N. and N.W to W.S.W., where we stop at five o’clock at the right shore. A large lake lies at our side; behind it, another one is incrediblyenlivened by millions of birds, amongst which there are several pelicans. I have never heard such a noise and fluttering of flying birds, as I did here when on a shooting excursion. Thermometer, before sunrise, 20°; noon, 27°; three o’clock, 29°; eight o’clock in the evening, 24°.
19th February.—We navigate, at seven o’clock, from N. on the right, to N.E., and have soon to contend with a contrary north wind. On the left we remark two of the narrow gohrs or natural canals, serving, at high water, as channels to the lakes, from which they are now disconnected. On the right, as yesterday at noon, Tutuies; on the left, Kèks. A quarter before eight o’clock. From N. to E. Here and there we see the negroes holding a stick, covered with a skin of long hair, which appears to be a battle-standard; they carry it always erect when they return from war.
Eight o’clock. N.W. On the left a long tokul-village of the Kèks, with ambak-hedges, instead of the solitary little court-yards of the houses; the sleeping-places open above, and plastered below. We no longer perceive magazines erected on stakes: the people here never seem to think of the morrow. On all sides uncultivated soil, and that has been the case for some time. Nature must provide the necessary bread-corn and other fruits, without any exertion of men, or the people must live principally on the produce of the chase, and fishing.
Half-past eight o’clock. From N.W., with a short bend to S.E., yet only for a few paces; then again right round to N.N.W. We do not remark that the water has fallen; it seems to be in its usual shallowstate. Young grass in the water at all the corners of the river or shores, and also to the right of our bend. The marsh-regions, with their noxious moisture and numerous glow-worms, are close to us. Yesterday evening, the hollow sound of the drum foreboded their approach.
Nine o’clock. To N.N.W. On the left a Haba, a quarter of an hour distant. A quarter after nine o’clock. N.E.; and immediately we double a flat green corner in the bend to S.W., and a very short tract S., where there is a narrow pass. Half-past nine o’clock. N.E. On the left a wretched hamlet, and a large lake in its neighbourhood, with numerous birds, separated only a few paces from us. Ten o’clock, N.; and to the left, round a green half-moon, to W.S.W. Half-past ten o’clock. Again round a verdant margin of the shore to the right, N.W. A quarter of an hour later we halt about N.E.; and I accept Suliman Kashef’s invitation to dinner. To my joy he talks a good deal of my brother. The Kèks have brought some more teeth; but not one fell to my lot, in spite of all my endeavours. About half-past one o’clock, we bear off again to N. and N.E. The Elliàbs possess here also a tract, and likewise the Kèks; the Tutuis dwell more up the country. Half-past one o’clock, W.S.W.; then shortly S.W., and a quarter before two, to W., where the Haba below seems to be close to the shore, and on the left side it is scarcely half an hour distant; on the right a pastoral village.
Two o’clock, N.W. by W. On the right bank some men are employed constructing a miserable pastoral village on old red ashes; behind I see refreshinggreen grass, but that on the shore is either dried up or burnt away. A second pastoral village is being erected immediately on the right; the commencement of it consists here of solitary sleeping-places: stakes, and heaps of ashes are lying about in large quantities. The pasture seems to be a dried-up marsh-lake, as our landing-place in the middle of the day also was, where gazelles and elephants were sporting in the high grass on the still moist ground; but I could not even get a shot at the former. A quarter after two o’clock. On the left withered ambak, and the neighbouring forest seems to approach to the shore; on the right a pastoral village, and a long tokul-village joining it, with and without porches. Sale jumped to my window, and shouted “Kawagi! tali barre, shuf uachet fill fok el bah’r”! (“Master, come out, and look at an elephant on the shore!”) “Kawagi,” properly speaking, being merchant, and the title for every Frank; “fok el bah’r” means literally, over the river. And the whole crew were all upon the move to see the elephant. I went up also on the deck of our cabin, and perceived the dark-grey monster, throwing first his trunk on the earth, and sending up clouds of dust, and then lashing his body with it. A semicircle of negroes were gradually approaching him, having spears in their hands; but they fled from us, their best friends, when we landed. Suliman Kashef soon opened a platoon fire, and I repaired immediately with Sale in the direction of the elephant, who was looking around and preparing to attack the crowd of people. The balls seldom whistled by him, for the mark presented two large a volume to miss; and the distance, shortas it was, was diminished to a few steps by the bloodthirsty circle surrounding him.
He extended his ears up and down like the opening of an umbrella, not so much from pain, as from the balls raining on them, and sticking in the ear-laps, as we found afterwards, having only penetrated one skin. He was already blinded by the shots, for in elephant-hunts they first aim at the eyes, and few missed, or else he would have made his way to the Nile by instinct, to preserve himself for a time. Suliman Kashef knelt down and sent another rifle-ball at his orbits; he fell—the men rushed at him, but he rose once more, when they all started back, tumbling one over the other to escape being trodden under his feet. At last he sat on his hind-quarters, stretched forth his fore-feet, and died in this half-standing posture. I could not have shot him myself so close, for the blood running from his eyes and numerous wounds moved my compassion too much to do so; even Sale said to me, in a melancholy tone, “El messkin!” (the poor creature). I ordered him to cut off the animal’s tail; for the Kèks, to whom Suliman Kashef had presented the flesh, as a set-off for the beautiful teeth, had already buried their knives in his body. Sale hesitated a moment, because the awful sight of the beast made him fear that it might possibly stand up again. Seven spear-heads were found in the flesh under his skin, and he had swam over with these sticking in him, from the opposite shore, where he was first hunted. I had already embarked, when it struck me that the foot of an elephant was considered a dainty, and I sent, therefore, a servant to fetch me one; but he brought instead a large piece ofthe ear, as a proof that he had really gone back, for the people of this country seem to know what is good as well as the Europeans at the Cape of Good Hope. Our black soldiers, however, had brought flesh on board, which I afterwards tasted, but did not find very relishing.
MOUNT KOREK.MOUNTAIN CHAIN OF KAGELU.MOUNT KONNOBIH.COUNTRY ON THE LEFT SHORE OF THE NILE FROM THE ISLAND OF TSHANKER TOWARDS WEST. 27TH JANUARY, 1841.
MOUNT KOREK.MOUNTAIN CHAIN OF KAGELU.MOUNT KONNOBIH.COUNTRY ON THE LEFT SHORE OF THE NILE FROM THE ISLAND OF TSHANKER TOWARDS WEST. 27TH JANUARY, 1841.
COUNTRY ON THE LEFT SHORE OF THE NILE FROM THE ISLAND OF TSHANKER TOWARDS WEST. 27TH JANUARY, 1841.
A quarter after five o’clock we leave the spot, and navigate to N.W. by N. On the right a small encampment for cowherds; on the left burning reed-straw. The leaves of the elephant-tree, which I had placed in my window, have withered since the morning, though from the 6th instant, therefore for thirteen days, they had been exposed to the sun and air, and had not only remained fresh and green, but also seemed to shoot forth vigorously, and even to grow, whilst the fruits became every day more and more shrivelled. The juice of the latter might, perhaps, have nourished the leaves by returning to them; the stalk between the wood and the leaves being injured by the wind blowing it against a nail, shewed plainly that it had lost its sucker. A quarter before six o’clock, N. byW.; close to the left a large lake; on the right a reed fire. We wheel here on the left to the W.; the surface of the earth is very low on the right and left; the lakes, therefore, are not all dry, but considerable rain must fall to make them overflow, unless they have auxiliary canals from the river. A tokul-village before us to the W., near which we shall perhaps stop, in consequence of the horizontal smoke, and the smell of the meat connected therewith. A floating island is at our side; the elephant may have torn it from the shore in crossing. Six o’clock, W.S.W.; we ride at anchor in the middle of the river, and have the village at our right. Thermometer, before sunrise, 19°; noon, 27°; one o’clock, 28°; two o’clock 30″; eight o’clock in the evening, 25°.
20th February.—At 8 o’clock we navigate N.W.N. then N.N.W. A quarter after eight o’clock. N.W. by W. We sail with a faint north-east wind: to the right a pastoral village, to the left the Haba, nearly a quarter of an hour distant; the shores low; then N.W. by N., and again in the bend on the green margin of reeds to N., and on the left to W.N.W. Nine o’clock. We stop at the left shore, for the strong north-east wind is contrary to us in our course from N. to N.N.E. Five o’clock. The whole day I have been in bed, for I became so ill this morning, shortly after our departure, that I could not sit upright, and therefore I wished very much for wind and rest.
It is difficult to bargain with the blacks: they take the glass beads, and the barter seems closed; but they immediately seize the goods which they have already given us, and require more sug-sug.The following circumstance happened to me, when I was a short distance from the vessel with one of my servants. I had bought a large elephant’s tooth, and a chief refused not only to return the beads, but even tried, with his men, to take away the tooth from my lusty cook, Sale Mohammed, by force, and to sell it again; whereupon I got angry, and struck him on the face with the flat part of my hand: he stood as if petrified, but afterwards went away without laying a hand on me.
Although the wind is still contrary, we navigate, immediately after five o’clock, with libàhn, to N.N.E. by the right shore. The real cause of our departure arose from Thibaut having gone ahead, to purchase ivory, which the Turks will not permit. We work to N. till a quarter before six, and in a bend to W., where on the right is a smoking pastoral village, with several small plastered summer tokuls. We sail delightfully from N.W., to N.N.W., the wind being favourable. A short tract to the left S.S.E. and then immediately to the right, N.N.W. We see again vessels surrounded by reeds, where we could not have supposed them to be. The river here seems to take delight in tedious and disagreeable bends. We halt after sunset at the right low shore, where, at some distance, I perceive an ambak thicket; but I am too weak to fetch seeds, and my men immediately jumped ashore with gun in hand. Thermometer, at sunset 27°; noon 29° to 30°; sunset 27°.
21st February.—Half-past seven o’clock. From N.W. to N. and N.W. by N.: on the right a considerable pastoral village with larger tokuls, and plastered sleeping-places; the latter slightly diminishingtowards the top. Saw men stand near these summer tokuls, the roof of which rises only a little, and on the average, their heads are of an equal height with the tops of their huts, and some even tower above them. We stop at a quarter before eight o’clock between this pastoral and the succeeding women’s village, where the river flows northerly, and wait for cattle to be killed. The Kèks dwell on both shores, and the Tutuis up the country on the right side, who live at peace with the former.
The winter-tokuls, or women’s huts, appear from the river far higher than they really are, for they mostly stand on the slightly elevated margin of the shore. After repeatedly measuring them, I find that they are from eight to eleven feet high, including the lower walls, which are always from three to three feet and a half. The roof is in from five to nine uniform grooves, for the straw is not sufficient for the length of the roof. The small tokuls of the pastoral villages are, on the average, from six to seven feet high, including their walls, which are four feet, or something more; those of the sleeping-places are as high as the reeds themselves, namely, about ten feet. To the great diversion of the crew, a young woman here also wanted to drive us to the right side, because our vessel lay at anchor before her harìm.
I watched a friendly-looking woman making aburma(or cooking apparatus), and putting the finishing stroke to it: she rounded the outside of the earthen pot with water, and to get the little hoops on it, she had a thick, strongly-twisted piece of packthread, of a span in length, which she rolled over the smoothed places. As far as I could learn from her,these vessels are made merely by hand, although it might be supposed, from the beautiful large vessels of the Shilluks, that a potter’s wheel was used. The people here display as little friendly feeling towards us as those yesterday. I manage to get, however, a thick fluted hassaia of ebony, besides some small elephants’ teeth.
Ten o’clock. At last a miserable cow was presented to us, and we proceed W.N.W., a quarter of an hour later, S.W., although only for a very short tract, and immediately N.N.W. We continue to have on the left, green reeds in the water; and the shore on the right is scarcely two feet high.
Eleven o’clock. From N.W. to N.; in half an hour from S.E. and N.E., with a short bend in W.N.W. to S.S.W.; then on the right a short tract N.E. by N., and again N.N.W. The shores are scarcely elevated above the river, and therefore numerous lakes must be formed. I remarked, yesterday, crown-rushes (papyrus antiquorum), which were still green, as well as ambak-thickets, seeds of which plant I took this morning; its leaves were already brown, and the tree itself in a dying state: there were not any young shoots from the roots to be seen, nor from the seed that had fallen in the preceding year; the latter lies therefore a year, and perhaps till the next rainy season, in the ground, and then during the time of high water, springs up with incredible vigour to that height, which, upon this slightly elevated ground, was only twenty feet; but in our ascent I remarked it double that height on a low island in the river. Twelve o’clock. From N., to the left N.W. On the right a pastoral village, and immediately rightto N. in a bend. The river is narrow, for the grass has grown into it.
“Baùda, baùda!” the crew screamed the day before yesterday,—a dreadful word, in truth. Hitherto we have only seen a few of these horrible mosquitoes, but in their stead a quantity of other stinging insects. From N. immediately to the left, W.N.W. and a short tract N.W. by N. The north wind has been long contrary to us, but has not been particularly prejudicial to our voyage. Half-past twelve—From N.W. to W.N.W. and W; for a moment N., and in a short bend to S.S.W., where it winds to W. One o’clock.—About N.; a broad arm of the Nile flows to W. We halt for a moment here by the island. About S.E. by S., the mouth of another gohr going from E. is seen; it discharges itself partly into the main stream to W., and partly flows to S.W., and forms another island. The careless sailors have allowed the vessels to be thrown into this arm of the Nile, and are now working to come to the W. into the main river.
Half-past one. From W.N.W. left to S. Little ambak-woods on all sides, but not having their fresh verdure; also crown-rushes, seeds of which I have not yet been able to procure. A quarter before two. From S. and S.W. to the right, shortly round to N.N.W. and on to N.E. Two. From N.E. to the left round to N.N.W., then to the right a few paces to N. A quarter after two. From N. and N. by E.: on the right some negroes, who remain in a very quiet posture; to the left W.N.W. Half-past two. W. by S., where we have a tolerably long road before us, then W.S.W.; on the right a small summer village. Aquarter of an hour later N.E. by E. and N., and so in a bend further to N.E. Three o’clock. From N.N.E. to N.N.W.; the low shores or young water-reeds and ambak thickets still continue. We see even now several reed-fires, but the people appear, since our absence, to have burned the reeds very well, for a quantity of green grass is seen sprouting up from the scorched soil. On again in a long bend to W.S.W.; on the right a pastoral village with little tokuls, having roofs more pointed; on the left also a similar one; then at four o’clock, opposite the bend in N.W. at a little distance, a large lake, and behind it the Haba. The natives sing a little, but remain quietly sitting. A quarter after four, from N.N.W. to the left towards W., then with a short bend to the right N.N.E.; at this sharp corner a small pastoral village, near which we halt at the right shore. About south from our landing-place a large lake, where the river winds from N. to N.N.W. on the left shore immediately behind the green reeds. The natives have all fled except one, who remains close to us; probably the fame of our love for slaves has preceded us. Thermometer, before sunrise 20°; noon and afternoon 28° to 30°; sunset 28°; eight o’clock 26°.
22nd February.—We have waited since yesterday evening in vain for Selim Capitan and Arnaud, who have struck into another arm of the river. At nine o’clock this morning we see their mast at a distance: they came up and we started at ten o’clock from hence, where a large summer village is in the course of erection. We row strenuously, for the north wind is contrary. From N. to. N.N.E., and at half-past ten to N. and N.N.E., and immediately to W.N.W.A quarter before eleven E.N.E., and immediately N.N.W. Feïzulla Capitan had epileptic attacks to-night again, perhaps arising from the tension of the nerves of his fingers, for he has fabricated a tow-rope for Suliman Kashef, and worked at it till late at night, as he has done previously when engaged in sewing.
Eleven o’clock. From N.N.W. to N.N.E.; an arm of the Nile flows in on the right—the very same one navigated by Selim Capitan and Arnaud. To the right a pastoral village on the head-land; we put into land near it. Two o’clock; we leave the place, for the natives will not approach us. From N.N.W. immediately to N.N.E., and a quarter of an hour later with a short curve to N.W. The negroes here wear only narrow ivory rings. From N.W. to N.N.W., and at half-past two, from N. in N.E. by E., to E. by N. The shores are either a green margin of grass, encroaching on the water, or if they be dry, about two feet high, and behind them are ambak-thickets, or crown-rushes, striking leaves, or dying away, according as they are in low or high ground. Three o’clock; further on in the bend to W.S.W., and again round the right to W. and N.W. by W. There is not a man, house, hut, or cattle in these marshy regions, from which I myself shall only be too glad to escape. A quarter after three o’clock, N.N.W.; to the right a pastoral village: we really see human beings, but they appear very listless, and even the women remain quietly standing amongst them. Opposite, another village; also negroes, but no herds. Half-past three, N.; on the right a pastoral village. We proceed slowly N. by S., andN. by W., yet generally N.; and a quarter before four, N.N.E. Here and there still there are floating islands; with a short bend N.W., and N.W. by W. to W.N.W. On the right a lake; and at four o’clock in a gentle bend to N.N.W., then round a corner, N.N.E., and E. by S. but immediately again W.N.W. to S. by W. Half-past four, W.S.W; on the right a pastoral village smoking vigorously, yet we do not see any herds. A quarter before five, from S. by W., shortly round N.N.W. to N., and to the left in N.W. At five o’clock again to the right, N.N.W.; on the left hand a pastoral village, from N.E., immediately N.N.E., N., and N.W.; in a bend further on to S.S.W. Half-past five, from S.S.W. in W., W.S.W., where a small pastoral village appears on the right, to N.W.
For some days we have been without fowls and sheep on our vessels, and we shall not, perhaps, procure any meat till we arrive at the so-called, “Cannon place,” where the eighteen Nubas of Darfur sought their way to freedom with only six guns. A quarter before six o’clock from N.W., shortly round to W., and in a bend to S. and S.E. by S. Six, S., and immediately in W.N.W to N., from whence we navigate to the left round a corner. After six o’clock, in a bend to S., and here again round a neck of land immediately to N. Some trees, harbingers of a finer country, have shewn themselves just now. A large lake secluded by palings, and perhaps, therefore, subsequently furnishing the natives with fish, is noticed at about fifty paces up the right shore. Here we make for land. Thermometer, before sunrise 17°, noon 29 to 30°.
23rd February.—We navigated this morning to the left shore, whereon there is a scanty Haba, in order to fetch wood and make observations. I walked to the neighbouring Haba, where I saw men in nine fishing-boats, catching fish. The lake is from forty to fifty paces in the low ground, where it stands on an equal level with the Nile, and enclosed with ambak hedges, from W. to S.E. It is a remnant of the primitive bed of the stream, perhaps itself a river-bed lately deserted, and surrounded on one side by the old shores of the Haba, which are here only five to six feet above the water, and form also the ancient left shore. From what I could see, it is about three to three and a half hours’ long, by two hundred to three hundred paces broad. It seems to derive its water from the river, and to fill with the latter, but also to supply a mass of water to it in the rainy season. It winds to S.S.E. and appears to go still further eastward.
The Kèks live here very comfortably, merely on the fish they catch; but with the exception of that, they are very poor. Yet they came as proudly to us with two goats as if they had brought twenty fat oxen. They do not seem to possess cows at all, and they may be perhaps the Icthyophagi of the enclosed lake. However, we got seven elephants’ teeth, the value of which they apparently did not know, by the assistance of our interpreter. The Kèk women let the hair grow a little: the lines on their forehead extend to behind their ears; but they are fine, and frequently invisible on account of the dirt.
Front and back aprons, as usual; at times, however, we see the little rahàt, or even the leathern apron over the rahàt, clearly a luxury, which the wife ofLàkono also indulged in. Besides this, these women have a verycharmingappearance owing to their chewing tobacco. There is another couple of poor villages in the neighbourhood of this place, and the men are said to have fled from it, taking their oxen with them. A quarter before five o’clock we navigate at last to the north: the Haba retreats immediately to a distance. On the right a little pastoral village, from whence we receive the two goats mentioned above. A quarter after five, to the left, N.W. by W., where there is a Haba; soon afterwards to the right N.N.W. The higher shores have disappeared with the Haba. The whole surface is scarcely two feet above the river. On the right young reeds and reed-grass.
At this moment our vessel received from below a tremendous shock: the crew cry “Chamùss, chamàss!” and laugh; but they very soon put on a serious countenance, for the bottom of the vessel was already full of water. The barrels of gunpowder, grape-shot, and cartridge-boxes were taken out, five signals of distress having been first fired; and they were about to continue firing blank shot, for the water rushed in as if a leak were sprung, when the bold reïs Abdullah, a Kenùss (the reïs are generally all Kenùss, because they are well acquainted with the cataracts), went under the vessel with a ball of tow: this took place close to the shore, to which we were not able to approach within ten paces, and where there was still great depth and danger. The hole, however, was stopped by the brave and incessant exertions of some sailors and soldiers. I myself put out the fire on the hearth, and forbad smoking under the threat of instantly shooting any one who did so; for I was to act,in the absence of Feïzulla Capitan, as wokil: and at the same time I posted sentinels. The vessels sailing a-head did not stop at the signals we fired, although they were near enough to hear them; and we ourselves, then, at half-past six o’clock, navigated to N.N.W. Subsequently we go to the left, W.S.W., then to the right, where we halt, together with the other vessels, immediately in the bend at the left shore, at a former landing-place (matrag betal mutfa), after we had jostled our beak-heads together in the usual unskilful manner.
24th February.—Our vessel has a large hole, and we are obliged to be drawn by the prow upon the sand: all the goods were removed, but afterwards safely put on board. Sabatier makes the observations now, and Arnaud is said to be employed with the calculations, for which, therefore, we shall have to wait a long time. Several ostriches were seen yesterday by my servants and Suliman Kashef’s body-guard, without a single well-flavoured leg falling to our lot: they had remarked, also, an ape the size of a large dog. I asked whether it was a chirt, which species answers to our zoological ideas of the cynocephalus and cercopithecus; but they assured me that it was an abelènk, because it had a small head.
25th February.—A quarter before seven o’clock, to N.N.E., and slowly, N.E. by E. The thermometer, since three in the morning, at sunrise, has been but 17°; and did not rise from noon to three o’clock, above 29°. In the evening we see the sun disappearing in the dense atmosphere, which lies heavily on the whole of this country; and this morning it rose either from behind the mist, orcovered with clouds. The evaporation from the neighbouring stagnant waters has an injurious effect upon the health of the crew, and consequently they are nearly all afflicted with a violent cough. The difference between this region and the clear mountain air and pure water of Bari is very great. The fogs here are seldom so thick as in Germany or England: but they penetrate through the skin, which has become sensitive from the heat, as, for example, this morning.
Seven o’clock.—N.N.W. On the left hand a large lake, close to us, in the green reeds, connected perhaps with the river, and indisputably an ancient bed of the river, cutting off the corner to the left, which we shall hereafter double. Half-past seven o’clock. N.W. We go till half-past eight o’clock in a northerly direction, and halt in N.N.W. at the scorched right shore. This is here six feet high, whilst, a hundred paces up the Nile, behind the young water-reeds, no elevation of the shores is observed. We remark no strata of earth on our shore, but clay and humus are closely mixed. At nine o’clock we navigate further, without the lust of our crew for meat being gratified, for the people seem to have driven away their goats, and they have nothing else. N.N.E. The north-east wind slightly retards our course. Half-past nine o’clock in a bend round the green couch-grass, N.N.W.; a short tract N.W. by W., and round the right to N.E., rowing strenuously; then, at a quarter before ten, to N.N.E. The wind becomes stronger, and all the singing in the world will not help us, if the river do not take a contrary direction, of which there is some appearance.Ten o’clock. N.N.W. We sail five miles. N.W. and W.N.W. A quarter after ten o’clock from W.N.W. in N. by W., where we were obliged, unfortunately, to furl the sails. Immediately beyond N. to N.N.E. Half past ten, N.N.W.; a quarter of an hour afterwards W., and round a short, verdant grass corner, from E.N.E. to E.S.E.
The ants are of the greatest service here, for they throw up the hills, which serve the people as watch-towers, from which they look for their strayed friends and cattle. Half-past eleven o’clock. W., and immediately, in a short tract, to N.N.E., and also to N.N.W., and directly again to the right—slowly, owing to the contrary wind. At twelve, N.E. by E. and E., where we halt at the right shore of the reeds, to wait for Selim Capitan. Two o’clock.—Set off to S.S.E. My men bring me three short-haired sheep in the sandal—a thing now seldom met with—and a motley, decorated gourd-shell. A quarter after two. From E. to the left, a short way to N.N.W., and again to the right N.N.E.; also, at half-past two, a few paces to N. by W. and N.N.E. Immediately round a sharp grass-corner S.S.E.; then, a quarter before three, in the bend beyond E. and N. to N.W. by W.; on the right, up the country, a large village, and W.S.W.; again a village in the neighbourhood. The river winds to the right, W. We have hoisted already our fore and after-sail, as if we had to go again N.E. with a contrary wind. In the bend to N.N.W., on the right, a village upon a little hill, which I sketched; then N. Half-past three. At the right a gohr, going to E., and then S. N.W. We halt immediately at the right shore.
26th February.—Departure at half-past eight o’clock, N.N.W. My three sheep, which were in the meadow on the shore, ran away whilst my men were cutting reeds, from which Venetian blinds are said to be made in Khartùm. We sail with a south-west wind, and make five miles. A quarter before nine o’clock, from N.W. to N.N.W. and W.N.W.; again to N.W. Nine o’clock N., a small tract to N.E., and in the bend shortly to N., when the sails are reefed. Half-past nine.—From W.S.W., for a short time in W.N.W. and N.; some large hippopotami shew themselves, and we begin now to fear for the vessel. We sail with five miles’ rapidity. A quarter before ten o’clock, N.N.E. Some negroes have just come to the left shore,—ashes their ornaments, ashes their clothing. Ten o’clock.—For a moment to S.W. by W., and shortly round the green corner of the right shore to N.N.W. This winding costs some trouble, for the wind blows the vessel right round. Half-past ten, W.N.W.—Ambak being still green as it nearly always is in this Holland kind of country, covers all the right side at a slight distance from the shore: in a little bend to N.N.W., then round an obtuse corner, W. by S. A quarter before eleven W., and in a wide bend to E. Eleven. Likewise from E. to N.W., then W.N.W. The shores are generally elevated only two feet above the water, wherein a grass margin intrudes; behind, every thing is burnt away, and therefore the ambaks are withered, unless they stand in a protecting marsh. A quarter before twelve.—N.W. on the left hand, a large and long-scattered village on a high tract, and a little upwards a considerable lake, with a similar village,connected with the Nile by a ditch. Natives squat on the shore and hold up their hands. Twelve o’clock. To N. A quarter after twelve from N. by E., in a bend N.W. The lakes, which I generally take to be old beds of the river, retaining water even in the dry season, are a proof that the primitive stream has gone far deeper, and that even the present bed of the river, with which they are partly connected, must have risen as well as the whole country; because, had it been otherwise, they would have ebbed away. Half past twelve.—From N.W. to N., N.N.E. and E. One o’clock.—S.E. in an arch to N., and round a little corner to N.W.; on the right a tokul-village. Half-past one o’clock N., and a quarter before two N.N.E., then on the left to W.S.W., and on the right to N.N.W. and N. by E.; at two o’clock further to N.N.E. and N.E. by E. A quarter after two, N.W. by N.; on the right a broad river arm coming from S.S.E. From the mast they tell me that it is a gohr cul-de-sac, and therefore an ancient bed of the stream filled up from below. We halt at the right shore, for Arnaud wants to survey it; but he lies down to sleep, and we bear off again without having effected our object. At a quarter after three, N.N.W., and directly round the right, E.N.E.; to the left a little W., and then N.N.W. and N.N.E. Four o’clock.—Again N.N.W. and W.S.W. The wind ceased even at noon; it had been of little service to us. The floating islands of creepers are still the order of the day; but not so large and numerous as in our ascent.
A quarter after four, W.N.W., in a flat arch to N. by W. The north wind having now set in delays usexceedingly. Five o’clock, N.N.E., a long road before us. We go at six o’clock to the right shore, where the river winds N.N.W. I go upon deck, but feel so enervated by continually sitting, that I do not venture into the half-burnt high grass on the shore, where our sentinels, as usual, have their posts on the ant-hills, as a measure of precaution against the desertion of the soldiers, as well as any sudden attack of the natives. Thermometer at sunrise, 17°; noon, 29°; without getting up any higher.
27th February.—At half-past seven we set ourselves in motion to N.N.W., and soon N.W. Not a negro is to be seen here: the country appears, even at a distance, to have no population or settlement. Perhaps Nature thinks fit to give a long preparation to these regions, in order to elevate the alluvial deposits for the habitation of man, and to form the stream territory, and thus to realise the principles of humidity; or all this land is subject to a deluge, and tracts, which are now deserts, have become dry. Truly it might be the work of thousands of years to dry up an inland sea, such as that between the mountain terrace of Fàzogl, and the mountains of Kordofàn, towards the sources of the White Stream,—to extend it, with unknown ramifications, through the mountains of Bari to Habesch and Darfur, or Fertit, &c., and at last to break down at the Nile valley, near Khartùm, those barriers which display themselves there in solitary rocky hills and mountains. Eight o’clock, from N.W. by N. with a fair south-westerly wind to W. A quarter after eight, W.N.W.; the wind freshens, and we make six miles. Half-past eight, in a bend to N., and further to S.E. Aquarter before nine o’clock to N.W., and on to N.N.W.: on the right an isolated dhellèb in the reeds. Nine o’clock, in a flat arch again to N. by E.: on the right a village, with extremely low tokuls. On the left we remark another elephant-tree, and at a quarter of an hour distant, on the right, a forest. A quarter after nine o’clock.—N. by W. and E.: on the right a lake, with a village, at a short distance from the shore. The lake cuts off, near the Haba, that large angle formed by the river, and belonging therefore to the primitive bed. The poison-trees make me recognise that scanty forest where we landed previously. With a sharp turn from E. over N. to W. by S., and immediately at half-past nine o’clock, W.N.W., and further round an arch of reeds in narrow water to E.N.E., where we stumble again upon the Haba. A quarter before ten, we double a corner N.W. by N., and in a flat arch to W.; seven miles.
We land at the right shore near the solitary stunted trunks of trees, which belong to a former forest. In the neighbourhood a large lake. A little after ten, again from thence, N. by W., N. by E. to N.E. A quarter after ten, to N., and then E. by N. Some fishermen’s tokuls to the left on the low shore: neither men nor periàguas to be seen, the former having probably fled. A quarter before eleven o’clock, from E. to N.N.W. Eleven o’clock, to N. and N.N.E. Unfortunately the wind has slightly slackened, yet we still make four miles. A quarter after eleven, E., then to N. Half-past eleven, N.W.; further W., when our sailing ends for some time, to W.S.W. A quarter before twelve, from W.S.W. to N.W., when we sail again, and N. to N.E. by E.On the left, some negroes in the reeds, who speak to us, but we do not understand them. N.N.E., and immediately N. by E., and E. by S.; on the left a miserable fishing-hamlet.
Twelve o’clock.—Round the left, in the bend, N., and further to W.N.W., where a long water-tract lies before us. Half-past twelve: N.W. from S., a broad gohr comes on the left of us, by which the river is considerably widened. To N. and N.E., then N. by E.; and a quarter before one o’clock, to the right, E.N.E., and directly to the left, in the bend, N. and N.W. Half-past one, N.N.E. to E. then N. by E. to N.W. by W. A quarter after two, N.N.W., and N. to W. by N., and again to N.N.W., and N.W. by N. Half-past two, N.N.E., and with a short turn, a quarter before three, to W., and on to W.S.W. On the left a large lake; then N.W. and N., and in the bend, to S.E. by E.; gradually again to E.N.E. Half-past three, N.N.W., where we stop at the scorched right shore. Subsequently we go to the left, where the reeds are protected a little from the wind. Wonderful to relate, I got in such a perspiration by bathing in the Nile, although at first I could not move after it, that I was obliged to fly away from the cold wind to the cabin, and even there to wrap myself up in the barakàn (Herahn) folded four times thick.
28th February.—At a quarter before eight, we navigate from N.N.W. to N. On the right, several solitary large tokuls are to be seen from the deck, and then N.N.W. Sale brought a crane of gigantic size; but he had kept our vessel waiting for him half an hour, although only this morning I had enjoinedhim to be attentive to the roll of the drum, and the sails. To awaken his sense of discipline, and as a warning for the negligent soldiers, I got Feïzulla Capitan to give him some stripes over the hand, sparing him by this means the disgrace of receiving this slight punishment from a subordinate officer.
Eight o’clock.—N.W. A quarter of an hour later, from N.N.W. to W.N.W. It blows a gentle south-west wind; but we are obliged still to make use of the oars. Half-past eight o’clock.—From W.N.W., to N.N.W. and E. The air is thick, like yesterday; a heavy dew falls, and neither sunrise nor sunset is perceived. A quarter after nine o’clock.—From E., round the left, to W.N.W., where a large scattered tokul-village lies on the right, and behind it a lake. The Nuèhrs dwell here, and some of them come to Selim Capitan, when he halts at the right shore, which they did not do on our ascent. We proceed in a flat arch to N.E. The wind has freshened a little, and the oars rest; we make five miles. A quarter before ten o’clock, from N.N.E. to W. Ten o’clock, with a short turn, to N.N.E. A quarter after ten, in a small bend, to W.S.W., where we are obliged, unfortunately, to furl the sails, to S. by E. A quarter before eleven.—Shortly round to S.W. and S.S.W. Eleven.—To the right; very shortly round to W.N.W., and the sails spread, to the joy of all who wish to push forward and see their friends; but directly again to the left, S.; on the right, hamlets, with men. A quarter after eleven. At the left a small lake in the river, formed by other tributaries. We go W.N.W., and land at the left shore.
NUÈHRS. — ORNAMENTS. — MANNERS OF THE WOMEN. — THE MEN. — CURIOUS CUSTOM OF DRESSING THE HAIR, AND STAINING THEMSELVES. — VISIT OF A CHIEF. — SPEARS USED INSTEAD OF KNIVES. — SINGULAR WAY OF MAKING ATONEMENT, ETC. — WE HEAR ACCOUNTS OF OUR BLACK DESERTERS. — BOWS AND QUIVERS SIMILAR TO THOSE REPRESENTED IN THE HIEROGLYPHICS. — THE TURKS INDULGENT IN ONE RESPECT. — MOUNT TICKEM OR MORRE. — TRACES OF ANIMAL-WORSHIP AMONG THE NUÈHRS. — ARNAUD’S CIRCUMNAVIGATION OF A LAKE, AND GASCONADES. — ADVICE TO FUTURE TRAVELLERS ON THE WHITE NILE. — SWALLOWS. — MEANS OF DEFENCE AGAINST GNATS DISCOVERED. — THE SHILLUKS AGAIN. — QUESTION OF THE CONTINUAL ALTERATIONS IN THE APPEARANCE OF THE NILE. — GUINEA-FOWLS. — GIRAFFES. — BLACK WASPS. — TURTLE-DOVES. — OUR AUTHOR CAUGHT IN A THORN-BUSH. — FABLED LUXURIANCE OF THE PLANTS IN THE TROPICAL REGIONS. — VIEW FROM A HILL. — MANNER OF CATCHING FISH AMONG THE NATIVES. — THE SOBÀT RIVER. — THE INUNDATIONS OF THE NILE CONSIDERED.
1st March.—The Nuèhrs are afraid of us, on the whole, yet they brought us, yesterday, one of their bracelets. We shall remain here to-day till the afternoon; for, although we arrived yesterday before mid-day, yet nothing has been done by the gentlemen engineers, and every minute appears to me lost that we are on shore, for there is no village there. I made a short shooting excursion this morning with Sale, and shot twokarawans. I approached the side where the little bay is formed in the river, in order to examine it closer. I arrived through burnt reeds atan ambak-thicket, and came here upon thick half-burnt reeds, whilst the ground was very swampy; and then I pursued a bird unknown to me, close to the margin of a small lake, bordered by ambaks. I ought to be thankful that I was able to find the right road with my black feet over stalks of reeds which were trodden down, and to get out at last from the dangerous path.
Nuèhrs are scattered on all sides; but the men did not venture near the vessels. The women, on the contrary, were excessively talkative. Theywouldsee the vessels, and it was with them we transacted business and bargained for durra and tobacco. They have shaven heads, and the young women, notwithstanding this disadvantage, do not appear ugly. They have a very small hole bored through the flesh, between the nose and upper lip, in which we remark a thin blade of straw, or a small stick, to prevent it closing; or they put in it a needle, ornamented with a glass bead, extending slightly beyond the end of the nose: kissing, therefore, must be very difficult, if it happen to be the custom here. The whole rim of the ear is also pierced through, and from want of glass beads or other ornament, we perceive a little piece of wood in it. There are no lines on their forehead; front and back leather aprons are slung round the hips, or simply a rahàt, made of the narrow slips of dome-palm leaves. Here and there an ivory necklace, or strips of bark are seen, and around the neck a few miserable glass beads: these are the only ornaments which the poor women possess. Although I gave them some glass beads, at their humble request, yet their modesty was so excessive, that not one of themwould sell me her rahàt. They carry the small baskets, containing durra and tobacco, on their heads, with considerable dexterity, as is common on the White River. The women, in these countries, have no voice in the public assemblies, and therefore they make up for it by talking whenever they get the opportunity—a natural wish for emancipation!
The men here and there have interesting physiognomies, and which are particularly improved by the hair being worn in a natural manner: it is mostly one and a half to two spans long, but sometimes cut short. Their red colour—which is here of a fiery red—seems to be the favourite national colour. Our men thought it was natural; but I discovered, from many of these men, that they stain themselves artificially. At first, I believed that they wore a coiffure, similar to a wig; but I soon found that they had tied up the long hair behind into a thick tuft, and plastered over the whole head with a strong coating of ashes and an alloy of clay, which has the same effect as thehennahof the Turkish old women, who prefer to have red rather than grey hair. We laugh at seeing these stiff and dirty perukes, and yet our periwig-mania has only of late years been defunct; whilst, even now, the highly-civilized English still wear the full-bottomed wigs, and seem to think that a quantity of powder, long, stiff body-coats, and loose gaiters, are essential for their young servants. We perceive, upon the very projecting forehead of the Nuèhrs, six horizontal lines, more or less elevated: they wear well-worked bracelets, narrow, but thick, with a sharp edge, the best of which I bought, and amongst them a thin one, adapted to the form of theupper part of the arm, above the elbow. They have, besides, very frequently, iron rings on the wrist, and a species of battle-ring, having several tongues, similar to those I saw above, and the points of which are covered with little pieces of wood in time of peace. They adorn their ears with a bead, or a red copper ring, like the natives of the country below Bari. Theaures perforatæare not, therefore, here a sign of slavery, as with most other people. I saw no weapons, except their artfully-constructed bows; for they told us previously that they would not bring any arms to the vessels, so that there might not be schammata (strife). I was present when the Sheikh of the right side of the shore, who had brought some cows, was clothed by Selim Capitan. He expressed great joy when the beads were shewn him, but he would not have anything to do with the white or the black maccaroni, although there were gold ones between them. He said “arràd” (bad), and returned them.
His name was Lunjòk, and his village lies at a distance from the shore. His father is a sheikh on the left shore, but the inhabitants of both sides, although they are all Nuèhrs, are continually at war with one another, which he seemed to deplore. They must possess arms, because they make war against the Shilluks and the Kèks, and are generally successful, although they do not boast of it. Most of their villages lie on lakes or gohrs up the country. We saw here also three hamlets lying in ruins, on which I walked, and where even the reeds were torn away. I plainly saw that the place where these villages stood must have been heightened by the destroyed mud-walls.
The men wear small white beads round their necks,which are said to come from Pamm, in the country of the Dinkas: they do not themselves slaughter any cattle, as we were told, but eat animals slain by others, or those that die a natural death. They have not a supreme master, or Sultan.
Yesterday evening, we remarked a large circle of fires and solitary dhellèbs around us, denoting that the villages of the Nuèhrs were near at hand. I got to-day a curious head-dress, of leather and goats’ tails; we see here also those mussels (Cypræa moneta), which I have mentioned before, used as an ornament. We have never observed knives since we left Làkono’s country: spears seem to be used instead of them, and therefore we found them frequently worn away and useless, and not fastened by a nail to the shaft. Our black soldiers make use of the spears they have purchased, instead of knives; and, moreover, the Nubian two-edged knife, and that of Kordofàn, still retain the form of a spear. The bull, as the creator and support of the herds, must be honoured and esteemed here, for the rings worn by the tribes on the wrists, from hence to Berri, are everywhere decorated with little iron horns, and the natives imitate immediately the lowing of cattle, when we look at the rings.
A verycharmingcustom of these tribes came to light during our barter with them. My servant Fadl had purchased articles, as he had often done before, and given some in exchange, when subsequently they demanded that the rings should be returned, which he would not consent to. A negro tore the flesh of his arm with a spear, so that the blood spurted out; but no sooner did he see this, than he spat upon theinjured place, and begged pardon by gestures. The spitting in the hand is not perhaps meant, in the upper countries, as a mode of greeting or particular distinction, but rather as a kind of apology, or to exorcise the spirit of anger.
Suliman Kashef was even fortunate enough to receive such a secretion on his head, as a sign of respect, which made him put on a grim countenance. The people seem generally to make use of this spitting custom for the purpose of exorcising evil spirits: we find something analogous to this in the so-called “evil eye” of the South of Europe, namely, of Italy and Greece. Our deserters, we learn, passed here only yesterday; the Nuèhrs would have robbed them, as the women told the little Dinkaui in my presence; but the latter shot some of the Nuèhrs (the women saidseveral), and then crossed to the right side of the river. The Nuèhrs themselves had perhaps killed a few, but were frightened that we should take revenge, and pretended therefore that they had treated them peacefully. The poor men will have a great deal to suffer in their journey to their distant home.
Half-past three o’clock.—We proceed to N. The gentle south-east wind is at our back, so that it is very hot. Four o’clock.—A short tract to N.E.; on the right a wretched hamlet, to N.W. and W., W.S.W.: green shore but low; ambaks, and some trees with thick foliage at our left. A quarter after four o’clock, N.W. to N.E. by N. Solitary elephant-trees, poison-trees, of larger height than we had yet seen, àschurs, young dome-palms, and soon a Haba on the left shore, which is elevated therefore higher than usual. Negroes and women greet us in vainfrom the left side. Half-past five o’clock. N.E. by E., in a bend to N.W. and W.N.W.; then immediately N. by E. Just after six o’clock, we come to N.E. by E., and go over to the right shore. Thermometer, at sunrise, 28°; noon, 28°. Half-past three o’clock, 31°; sun-set, 28°.
2nd March.—A quarter before seven, to N. by W., then N.W.; and at seven o’clock, N.E., E.N.E., and N.E. by E. I cannot describe the agony we suffered from the gnats; my head is so heavy that it has become quite a useless member of my body. A quarter before eight, further to E.; and at eight o’clock, to the left, N. On the right, in this bend, a village, the negroes standing on their ant-watch-towers. The south-east wind is favourable; the negroes sing the usual old melodies, but cease directly, when they see the vessels sailing past, without noticing their song of welcome. The wind freshens, and the sky becomes cloudy: it looks like rain, and yesterday evening we perceived a storm in the distance.
Our deck being in such bad condition, will afford us, in truth, but little protection. Five miles. From N. in the bend to N.W., then right round at a quarter after eight to N., N.E. and E., where we furl the sails, and immediately to E.S.E. Luckily this last tract is not long, and the wind may soon help us out of these abominable regions of mosquitoes. But unfortunately now, it is contrary to us, and masters the oars so that we are obliged to go libàhn, and land at half past eight at the left shore, for the Kaiàss has remained behind. A little village is seen here, and now goes on the pulling of rings off thearms, so that the bones crack again, and the natives even break them in two on the arm, merely to procure sug-sug. I get here, besides other things, a bow, such as those already described, a rahàt of palm-leaves, and a club with a knob, almost the same as we have seen up to Bari.
The red copper earrings, which perhaps come from Berri, do not seem to be of any particular value; for they take them out of their ears when we ask for them. The men also, when they have no ivory, wear strips of leather, or of bark, round their necks and arms, such as are usual in all the regions of the White Nile.
The hair combed back, and not entirely reddish here, but retaining its natural black colour, gives the head an European look, and particularly so, because it is not woolly, although curly. This remarkable circumstance speaks in favour of the immigration of another race, as I have formerly alluded to. And this supposition becomes still more confirmed when we observe the greater neatness and durability of their tokuls, which are entirely dissimilar to those in Sennaar; so also their household utensils, and even the form of their bows and quivers, which are similar to those seen on the hieroglyphics, shew that they are either in a much higher grade of cultivation, or have outstripped considerably in civilisation the neighbouring tribes.
A quarter before twelve o’clock. Further to N.N.E. and N.N.W. We sail six miles in the hour, and shall escape, perhaps, the rain, which has announced itself by some drops; but we are obliged to reef the sails, owing to the other vessels being behind.
A quarter after twelve.—N.N.E. to N.E. by E., a short tract; then in a bend, N. to W., and at last, with a short bend, to E. Half-past twelve.—From E.N.E., in a wide bend, to W.N.W.; but immediately again in a bend, N.N.W. We hoist again the sails. N., and on to N.E.—E. by S.
Nothing but green aquatic-grass on the shore, and although the singing, bawling, and shouting on the vessels gives life to the scene, yet all at last turns to dull monotony. Illness and fatigue make me wish to rest a little, but I keep up in order to attain the aim I have in view. The wind has changed to south, perhaps for our benefit. One o’clock.—From E. by S., where a dhellèb appears on the right to N.N.E., E.N.E., and N.W. by N. Two o’clock.—E.N.E. to E. Half-past two.—N. to N.W., on the right a little village behind the reeds; further to S.W., and then with a short bend W. I see blooming ambaks at the left, and shall be able perhaps to gather again some of its flowers, and also the little duck-meat: the double lotus is there, but I have already seeds and tubers of that plant. The first group of dhellèb-palms is a welcome sight before us, for hitherto we have only seen solitary ones. A quarter before three, N.N.W. There are now thirteen dhellèb-palms at the most on our left. On we go,—I think we shall return to these dhellèbs—to E.N.E. and E.; a blooming ambak-thicket at our right. Three o’clock. From E. shortly round to W.N.W. On the right we remark negroes. The wind is certainly not so strong as previously, yet we make five miles more. Now at the right a badly-built hamlet, which contains tokuls with oval doors,and depressed and badly formed roofs plastered at the top with clay: soon afterwards, at the same side, another hamlet in the very same style. Perhaps both these villages contain summer tokuls, to judge from the miserable roofs of the huts, which do not keep off the rain. A quarter after three. From N.W. by W. to N. The wind has already slackened, but it appears again to think better of it, or we should have to expect the troublesome visit of gnats. Half-past three o’clock.—From N. by E. to N. Four o’clock.—N.W. and further in a flat arch to W. by S. Half-past four to five, W. to N. The sun sinks in a mist. At the right shore, where the reeds are burnt away, we notice a giraffe (saràff), and Suliman Kashef sends his halberdiers in pursuit of it.
3rd March.—We navigate a quarter after six o’clock from the middle of the river, wherein we cast anchor last night to N.N.W., then a little to N. and W., where a hamlet lies on the right to W.N.W. A quarter before seven o’clock.—W.N.W.; a slight S.E. wind gets up. Seven o’clock.—N.E. by E.,on the right some new summer tokuls; to E. and a quarter of an hour afterwards to N.E. by E. The oars rest, and we sail very slowly with the gentle wind, the river having a trifling fall. A long course is before us and the wind freshens immediately, so that we make four miles. On the left a village at the distance. A quarter after eight.—N.N.E., N. and N.N.W., a poor fishing village at the left. A quarter before nine, to W.N.W., the wind still better; five miles. A quarter after nine, to W.; on the left several large tokuls up the country; again to W.N.W. and then N. by W. A narrow gohr comes on the left from thereeds S.S.W.; the whole marsh-region here is in endless connection with the river, visibly and invisibly, by open canals and reeds. On the right a hamlet. Half-past nine o’clock, N.W. Smoke or mist extends before us, making the vessels a-head appear as if they were in an extensive and elevated sea.
A quarter of an hour ago we had six miles and now six miles and a half. A row of solitary and very large tokuls continues on our left. The villages, properly speaking, of the Nuèhrs, are half or three quarters of an hour from the river. The smoke just mentioned comes from the tokuls I have described, as the smell of burning tells us. From N.W. to N.N.W. and N.; and at ten o’clock on to N.E. and E.N.E. We leave a rush and grass island of about ten minutes long in the middle of the river. A quarter after ten, N.E., N. and N.W., and so quickly that it is quite delightful: we make seven miles. Half-past ten o’clock.—We double half-dried ambaks, which still display flowers. To N.N.W., N.E. by E., then shortly to N.W. and N.W. by W. On the right some negroes standing by their boats: they shout to us, but we wont hear. A quarter before eleven. From N.W. to N.N.W., N. and N.N.E. we have a long course before us, with slight declinations to N. by E. There are no elevations of the shores either right or left; merely aquatic reeds: behind, here and there, the surface of the earth is dry, and there are a few ant-hills with parched grass or a reed-hut. Eleven o’clock.—With a short bend N., we make eight miles: to N.W. and soon to N. On the left some wretched reed-tokuls, and negroes, the women standing upon a mound and singing. Furtherto the right N.N.E. Half-past eleven. Shortly to the left, round N.N.W. and W.N.W. then immediately to N. and N.N.E.—A quarter before twelve o’clock, still N.N.E. and then N.
The Turks have one magnanimous custom, despotic as they are in other respects. If the master call and the servant answer boldly, “I am eating,” he need not come; so if the former say, “Call me such a one,” and his messenger comes back with the report that the man he wants is asleep, the master lets him quietly take his siesta whatever hour of the day it may be. Twelve o’clock.—N.N.E. and immediately N.E., then N.N.W. and again N. A quarter after twelve to N. by W. and N.W., when we turn to N.W. by N.; then we go in a regular bend N.E. to N.E. by E. A quarter before one.—N.W. by N., and at one, to N.E. by N. We have just saved a Dellàhl (crier at the sale of slaves and public auctions), the Abu Haschis of the Kaïass, who jumped into the water to seize a large dead fish, notwithstanding we were sailing quickly. With a few exceptions we still continue to make eight miles. Nothing but aquatic reeds and crown-rushes; very few high reeds, and these beyond the reach of the water.
I will now repeat my journal word for word, in order to give the reader an exact description of the labyrinths of the river. I have hitherto partly avoided the detailed description of the windings, so as not to be wearisome by constantly repeating the same thing; and these, moreover, are shewn in the map which was composed on the groundwork of my journal, and which accompanies this work.
A quarter after one.—From N. in a bend to the left, N.N.E., and then again right round in an arch, where the south-east wind may be contrary to us; N.E. with a short turn to E.N.E., and on to E.S.E. The sails can work, for the wind graciously continues and blows in S. Half-past one.—From E.S.E., shortly round the left to N.N.E. and N.; we furl the sails in order to wait for the vessels behind. Two o’clock.—In the bend S.E. and E., where a tolerable course displays itself, and we again draw in the sails. A large hippopotamus snorts at the side of the vessel, and no one laughs at it, for we have learned to know already that the proximity of these ship-stormers is dangerous. A quarter after two. To the left in the bend, E.N.E.; we sweep by on the reeds like lightning, N.N.E. to N. by E., then in a flat arch to the right, N.N.E., which bends still more to E., E.N.E., and S.E. We saw several black birds both yesterday and to-day, called gatàff by the Arabs,—a species of water-hen, which flew over the ships in swarms till late in the evening, and uttered a piercing cry.
A quarter before three, from S.E., left to N. by E., and right, N.N.E.; four miles, with a slack wind. Three o’clock, from N.N.E., shortly round the right; a small island at the left, with reed-grass, crown-rushes, and blooming ambàks. To E., where a tolerable road opens before us; then to the left, E.N.E. Course three miles and a half; but the cloudy sky forbodes a squall, yet it may blow off, as it has done on other days.
Half-past three; from E.N.E. to the left, in a bend N., and N. by W.: a road before us, then to theright: make again five miles—in the bend, N.N.W. A quarter before four, on and on slowly to the right, N.E. On the right a large lake, which is connected with the river by a wide mouth; several negroes standing there, but no tokuls to be seen. Four o’clock, N.N.E., then to the left, with a small declination to N. by E., and then to the right; three miles rapidity—E.N.E.
Half-past four.—To the right E., and straightforward, with small inlets, further to E. by N., five miles. The wind blows fresher. Five o’clock, from E. to the left, shortly round N.N.E., to N. by W. Half-past five.—From N. to the right N.N.E., still there are no shores, no burnt tracts of land. A quarter before six.—From E.N.E. to the left N.E., where we anchor in the middle of the river. A little lake, Haba, and the isolated tree to the right.
4th March.—Departure at half-past six o’clock, from N.E. to N. by E. A quarter before seven, in a flat arch on the right, to N.N.E. Hitherto, not any wind, and perhaps not much hope that there will be, for the day is clearer than usual, although it blows a little from the west. The west wind only brings rain now and then to the land here. Seven o’clock, from E.N.E., round the left N.W.; on the right the “Village of War,” so called by the crew, on account of the cruelty exercised previously on the natives, and which I have already related.
Half-past eight; from N.W., on the left two little islets follow one another, to N.N.W. A quarter before nine; the vessels come behind us, the south-west wind gets up a little, and we sail therefore on to N.; three miles; N.E. by E. Selim Capitan sayswe made sixty-five miles yesterday, and thirty-five more to-day, in the direction of the lake of the Bahr-el-Gasàll. Nine o’clock, from N.N.E.; a little island in the bend, to the left N. and N.N.W., then in a flat arch to N.N.E. Half-past nine, N. by W.; the wind freshens for five miles, N. and in the bend, on to N.N.W., where we are unfortunately obliged to furl the sails, owing to the strong north-west wind which has set in. A quarter before ten: we go N.W.; the wind becomes fresher; it seems inclined to be contrary to us the whole day, and we have enough to do to stand against it. A quarter after ten; W., and slowly to N.W., then right round to N., where we spread sails, after the wind had changed magnificently to the west, and perhaps will go again to S.W.—five miles. Eleven o’clock; from N. by E., in a bend to N. by W., in a long bend N.N.E., then shortly round the right. Half-past eleven, to S.E. by E.; afterwards in the arch to E.N.E., with six miles, and on to N.E. and N.N.E. Twelve o’clock; from N.N.E., a jump to the right, N.E. by N., then in the bend to N., and again N. by E., and a little to the left, N. One o’clock, N.N.E., and further to N.E. Half-past one; to N.N.E., and again in a flat arch to N.E. and E., to E. by S. Two o’clock, E.N.E.
The neighbouring ambak bushes approach us in these windings, and make the shores less monotonous; yet it does not last long, and we see again only grass, water, and sky. Half-past two, N.E.; a quarter before three, N.E. by E. We see from the deck a high mountain to N.N.E. at the distance. It must be the so-called Tickem, or the Morre, as Mariannow says more correctly. The people have no end of joy at seeing this mountain, for they consider it to be the finger-post to Khartùm, and they are looking for the dome-palms now as another sign. Three o’clock.—From E.N.E. to E.; then, with the slightest bend, to N. The marsh-land is from a few inches to half a foot high, on dry ground; there are some ant-castles on it, and water-reeds and solitary ambak-bushes on the left. A little forward to the N., and the so-called Gazelle River rushes with great force close before us. Unfortunately, this is another pretext for the gentlemen engineers to stop—yet uselessly—whilst we ought to make good way with the favourable wind, in order to follow the Sobàt further. We go also immediately to the right marsh-reeds, as usual to collect gnats for the night. The Nuèhrs love their cattle, and, like children who won’t have their pigeons and rabbits killed, are excessively delighted at watching their growth and increase. We see not only from this that these people do not kill the animals for eating, but also from the manner in which they decorate the beasts, insomuch as they put on them broad necklaces, covered with little conical bells. The necklaces are of iron, and, as this metal is very rare amongst the Nuèhrs, they seem to take more pleasure in manufacturing ornaments than arms, though the latter are of the first and highest importance to a people living in a state of nature; yet they may, nevertheless, be richly provided with them, and do not wish to display their warlike side to us, for we have lost their confidence by the barbarous conduct of the first expedition. A closer investigation of this nation might give interesting results: theircurly, not woolly hair, the antique form of their bows and quivers, their war-caps, similar to those of the Egyptians, and their worship of animals, would serve as a very instructive guide in the Ethiopian labyrinth of history.
5th March.—Nothing done, unfortunately, by the engineers: I myself could not land, owing to the marsh-reeds.
6th March.—Dined with Selim Capitan, where Arnaud had a fit of indigestion, from having eaten too many futir (tarts).
7th March.—At last Arnaud went in the sandal to circumnavigate the lake, without saying a word to any one of his intention, because he means to pretend that he has seen everything, and to impose on the Basha by a large bakshis. This lake is said to make a great figure on his map, which he must have got others to compose for him at Paris, because he himself is not capable of doing it, as Sabatier expressly declared. Yet he was so close to us all the time he was navigating it, that we never lost him out of our sight. He wished also to investigate the Gazelle River by himself, but he was afraid of remaining with the sandal in the reeds at night, where he might have become a victim to gnats or other monsters. The Bach’r el Gasàll doesnotdisplay at this time of the yearanyfall, nor does the Nile here in the lake, although the breadth of its stream is clearly distinguished from the bluish water of the latter by its muddy colour. The lake has fallen about a foot since our ascent, of which we have plain proof by our shore. There is want of wood on board the vessels, because the crew have kept up a clear fire everynight to drive away the gnats, without even giving a thought that the smoke alone has that effect. With respect to this abominable brood of insects, I earnestly advise all future travellers to provide themselves with a musquito-net (Arabic, nammusië, from nammùs, gnat) if they wish to escape the torments of hell, and to preserve their health and perhaps their life. I myself shall be grateful to God if I only remain strong enough to continue and end my journal as accurately and faithfully as hitherto; so that by its means I may correct the maps which may be published subsequently, and particularly with regard to the numerous windings and bends of the river itself, which can only be followed by the strictest attention.
8th March.—Arnaud again to-day kept his intention very secretly, and navigated the Delta before the Gazelle River—a famous opportunity for relating anecdotes of continual adventures and hippopotami-hunts. He really does gasconade too much: for example, he states, quite at random, in the presence of Sabatier, the number of miles he has navigated the last two days, although he has never cast out the log; whereupon Selim Capitan laughs in his face. Arnaud never scruples either to ask for anything that pleases him. “Son Altesse,” serves always as his excuse, as if he were collectingonlyfor Mohammed Ali. At half-past ten o’clock a few drops of rain fell. M. Arnaud having returned from his great voyage of discovery, we sail out of the lake E.S.E. The weather seems about to clear up immediately, although the sun casts a certain watery gleam of light on the marsh-grass that we cannot trust.
It thunders, and we go with a west-wind right into the dark clouds. Half-past eleven o’clock, the rain has fortunately come on; the wind has changed from W. to N.E., and we go with oars again to E.N.E. A quarter before twelve, the wind blows freshly on the right shore of the reeds, where we make a whirl again, because the crew are tired out by their sleepless nights. Drops of rain only are falling, but the pell-mell confusion in which the vessels navigate is enough to drive one to despair: no taking to the oars—no wish to do anything—no command—the tailor-captain is sitting at his handy-work.
The shores are, or form, short reeds and grass standing in the water. Twelve o’clock; to E. Half-past twelve; S.S.E. One o’clock; E. by S., a large lake to the right, scarcely separated from us. Two o’clock; with a trifling declination left to S., and in a flat arch, E.S.E. The wind has changed to the south, and we sail a little—two miles. However we see showers of rain pouring down nearly all round us, and it will be fortunate if we escape them, for where could we fly to to preserve ourselves from the rain which soaks through in these regions? Half past three o’clock; from S.E., with a few deviations to E. by N.: we make four miles, for the wind has settled in south west, whereby a few drops of rain sprinkle us from the right side, and we go then directly a short tract N.N.E., leaving behind us alargefloating-island, very rare here in comparison with the small ones. A quarter before four; with a short bend to E.S.E. and E., then from E.S.E.; on the right here a large lake; immediately at a quarter after four to S.E. by S., and on the left to E.S.E. and E. by N.