Drawn by Major Denham.Engraved by E. Finden.CASTLE AT MOURZUK.FROM MR. RITCHIE’S GRAVE.Published Feb. 1826, by John Murray, London.
Drawn by Major Denham.Engraved by E. Finden.CASTLE AT MOURZUK.FROM MR. RITCHIE’S GRAVE.Published Feb. 1826, by John Murray, London.
CASTLE AT MOURZUK.
FROM MR. RITCHIE’S GRAVE.
Published Feb. 1826, by John Murray, London.
Our interview with the sultan of Mourzuk was any thing but encouraging: he told us that there was no intention, as we had been led to expect, of any expedition to proceed to the southward for some time to come; that an army could only move in the spring of the year; that the arrangements for moving a body of men through a country where every necessary must be carried on camels, both for men and horses, were so numerous, that before the following spring it was scarcely possible to complete them: that two camels were required for every man and horse, and one for every two men on foot. And as to our proceeding to Bornou, it would be necessary, had the bashaw instructed him to forward us, that we should be accompanied by an escort of two hundred men. He said he would read to us the bashaw’s letter, and we should see the extent to which he could forward our wishes. The letter was then handed to his fighi, or secretary; and we found that to the protection of the sultan of Fezzan were we intrusted, who was to charge himself with our safety, and so insure our being treated with respect and attention by all his subjects; that we were to reside at Sebha, or Mourzuk, or where we chose in the kingdom of Fezzan, and to await his return from Tripoli. With this our audience ended, and we returned to our habitation.
It is quite impossible to express the disheartening feelings with which we left the castle. The heat was intense; the thermometer at 97° in the coolest spot in the house, during the middle of the day; and the nights were scarcelyless oppressive: the flies were in such myriads, that darkness was the only refuge from their annoyance. All poor Mr. Ritchie’s sufferings and disappointments were brought to our recollections; and although, from the arrangements which we had been able to make, we were better provided with necessaries than those who had gone before us,—yet did we consider our stock as a very sacred charge, applicable only to the grand objects of our expedition.
We received visits from all the principal people of Mourzuk the day after our arrival; and remarking a very tall Tuarick, with a pair of expressive, large, benevolent-looking eyes, above the black mask with which they always cover the lower part of their face, hovering about the door, I made signs to him to come near, and inquired after Hateeta, the chief Captain Lyon had spoken so highly of, and for whom, at his request, I was the bearer of a sword. To my great surprise, striking his breast, he exclaimed, “I am Hateeta! are you a countryman of Said[2]?—how is he? I have often longed to hear of him.” I found Hateeta had been but once in Mourzuk since Captain Lyon’s departure, and was now only to remain a few days. On the following morning he came to the house, and the sword was presented to him. It would be difficult to describe his delight; he drew the sword and returned it, repeatedly; pressed it to his breast, exclaimed “Allah, Allah!” took my hand, and pressing it, said “Katar heyrick yassur yassur” (thank you very very much); nearly all the Arabic he could speak. It was shortly reported all over the whole town, that Hateeta had received a present from Said, worth one hundred dollars.
12th.—We had been several times visited, and our hopes and spirits raised, by a person called Boo-Bucker Boo-Khaloom. He said that it was in the sultan’s power to send us on to Bornou if he pleased: he even hinted that a bribe for himself might induce him to do so—this, however, we found was not the case. Boo-Khaloom was represented to us, and truly, as a merchant of very considerable riches and influence in the interior. He was on the eve of starting for Tripoli, with really superb presents for the bashaw. He had five hundred slaves, the handsomest that could be procured, besides other things. He stated to us, secretly, that his principal object in going to Tripoli was to obtain the removal of the present sultan of Fezzan; and wished that we should make application to the bashaw for him to accompany us farther into the interior:we were not, however, to hint that the proposition had come from him. Boo-Khaloom said that he should be instantly joined by upwards of one hundred merchants who waited but for his going, and no further escort would be necessary; that he should merely remain a few weeks in Tripoli, and, on his return, we could instantly move on. The substance of all these conversations was transmitted to Colonel Warrington.
Boo-Khaloom left Mourzuk for Tripoli, with his slaves and presents; loading upwards of thirty camels, apparently reconciled to, and upon good terms with, the sultan. It was, however, very well known that Sultan Mustapha had set every engine at work to have Boo-Khaloom’s head taken off on his arrival in Tripoli; and that the other was willing to sacrifice all he was worth to displace and ruin Mustapha in the bashaw’s favour.
It was not till the 18th, that the sultan, after attending the mosque, started for Tripoli; all his camels and suite had marched in divisions, for three days previous,—in slaves he had alone more than one thousand five hundred. He was attended by about ten horsemen, his particular favourites, and four flags were carried before him through the town. The inhabitants complained dreadfully of his avarice, and declared that he had not left a dollar, or an animal worth one, in all Fezzan.
Nothing was now to be done but to make our arrangements for a favourable start the following spring. By the sultan’s departure, every necessary for our proceeding was withdrawn from the spot where we were. Not a camel was to be procured, and every dollar, that he could by any means force from his subjects, was forwarded to Tripoli. To Tripoli, therefore, were we to look for supplies of every kind; and it was decided by us all, that my departure had better follow his as soon as possible.
In pursuance of our determination to represent to the bashaw of Tripoli how necessary it was that something more than promises should be given us for our sterling money, on Monday, the 20th May, I left Mourzuk, with only my own negro servant Barca, three camels, and two Arabs; and, after a most dreary journey of twenty days, over the same uninteresting country I had already traversed,—the more dreary for want of my former companions,—I arrived at Tripoli on the 12th June, where I was received by the consul with his usual hospitality and kindness, and he assigned me apartments in the consulate.
12th.—I requested an immediate audience of the bashaw, which in consequence of the Rhamadan was not granted me until the following evening. The consul, Captain Smyth of the navy, and myself, attended: I represented, in the strongest terms, how greatly we were disappointed at the unexpected and ruinous delay we had experienced in Mourzuk, and requested a specific time being fixed for our proceeding to Bornou; stating, also, that were the answer not satisfactory, I should proceed forthwith to England, and represent to the government how grievously we had been deceived. The bashaw denied having intentionally broken his word, and solemnly declared that the will of God, in visiting the sultan of Fezzan with sickness, had alone prevented our being now on the road to Bornou.
A voyage to Marseilles, on my way to England, was the consequence of our altercation with the bashaw; and the promptitude with which it was decided upon, and carried into effect, by means of a small French vessel which, at the time, most fortunately lay in the harbour, was not without its good effects. The bashaw sent three despatches after me, by three different vessels, to Leghorn, Malta, and the port I had sailed to, which I received in quarantine, informing me, that Boo-Khaloom was appointed with an escort to convey us forthwith to Bornou. This was every thing I wished for; and immediately re-embarking, a seven days’ passage brought me once more to the shores of Barbary. Boo-Khaloom and part of the escort were already at the entrance to the desert; and on the 17th of September we re-entered the pass of Melghra in the Tarhona mountains. Hope and confidence had taken possession of my mind, in the place of anxiety and disappointment; there was now an air of assurance and success in all our arrangements; and I felt my health and spirits increase with this conviction. But little beyond the casualties attendant on desert travelling occurred, previous to our arriving again at Sockna, which we did on the 2d of October.
I found the great failing of my friend, Boo-Khaloom, was pomp and show; and feeling that he was, on this occasion, the bashaw’s representative, he was evidently unwilling that any sultan of Fezzan should exceed him in magnificence. On entering Sockna, his six principal followers, handsomely attired in turbans and fine barracans, and mounted on his best horses, kept near his person, whilst the others, at a little distance, formed the flanks. I rode on his right hand, dressed in my British uniform, with loose Turkish trowsers, ared turban, red boots, with a white bornouse over all, as a shade from the sun; and this, though not strictly according to order, was by no means an unbecoming dress. Boo-Khaloom was mounted on a beautiful white Tunisian horse, a present from the bashaw, the peak and rear of the saddle covered with gold, and his housings were of scarlet cloth, with a border of gold six inches broad. His dress consisted of red boots, richly embroidered with gold, yellow silk trowsers, a crimson velvet caftan with gold buttons, a silk benise of sky blue, and a silk sidria underneath: a transparent white silk barracan was thrown lightly over this, and on his shoulders hung a scarlet bornouse with wide gold lace, a present also from the bashaw, which had cost, at least, four hundred dollars; a cashmere shawl turban crowned the whole. In this splendid array, we moved on until, as we approached the gates of the town, the dancing and singing men and women met us; and, amidst these, the shouts and firing of the men, who skirmished before us, and the “loo! loo!” of the women, we entered Sockna.
We found that houses were provided for us in the town; but the kafila bivouacked outside the gates. It had always been our intention to halt at Sockna, for three or four days; and here we expected to be joined by a party of the Megarha Arabs, whom their sheikh, Abdi Smud ben Erhoma, had left us, for the purpose of collecting together. Hoon and Wadan were also to furnish us with another quota. My house consisted of a court-yard eighteen feet square, and a small dark room, leading out of it by two steps: the court, however, was the greater part of the day shaded; and here, on a carpet, I received my visitors. The Arabs, as they arrived, were all sent to me by Boo-Khaloom; and their presentation has a form in it, not much in character with their accustomed rudeness: they all came armed with their long guns; and the same girdle which confines their barracan contains also two long pistols. The chief enters, and salutes, dropping on one knee, and touching the stranger’s right hand with his, which he carries afterwards to his lips; he then says, “Here are my men, who are come to say health to you.” On receiving permission, they approached me, one by one, saluting in the same manner as their chief, who continued to remain at my side: they then sat down, forming a sort of semicircle round me, with their guns upright between their knees; and, after a little time, on the sheikh making a signal, they all quitted the presence.
Boo-Khaloom, who had suffered very considerably from fever, cold, and ague, now became so seriously ill, that our departure was of necessity postponed, and he insisted upon my prescribing for him, saying, “he was quite sure that I could cure him, if it was the will of God that he should live: if not, that nobody could.” His confidence in me gave me some confidence in myself: but alone, with very few medicines, and less skill, my situation was really one of great anxiety; for no one could foresee what might have been the consequence, had any thing serious happened to him while under my hands. He became alarmingly ill, and for two days and nights I had great doubts of his recovery; to my great satisfaction, however, on the third morning, after a night of pain and delirium (and which I had passed in watching by his side), a violent eruption appeared on his skin, with some little moisture, produced by covering him up the whole day with blankets, and suffering no one to come into the room but his favourite female slave. By the evening, he became much better.—Hajamad, or charms, are what the Arabs have most faith in, when they are ill. All the fighis (writers) and maraboots in Sockna were employed on this occasion by my friend’s friends, and one night the tassels of his cap were literally loaded with them. He assured me, when alone, that he had no faith in such things, and smiled when he said his friends would think ill of him, were he to refuse; his faith, however, was stronger than he chose to acknowledge, and entering, unexpectedly, one morning, I found him with a dove that had been just killed and cut open lying on his head, which, as he assured me, was because a very great maraboot had come from Wadan on purpose to perform the operation.
During our stay at Sockna, the marriage of the son of one of the richest inhabitants, Hadgi Mohammed-el-Hair-Trigge, was celebrated in the true Arab style. There is something so rudely chivalric in their ceremonies (so very superior to the dull monotony of a Tripolitan wedding), where from one to five hundred guests, all males, assemble, covered with gold lace, and look at one another, from the evening of one day until daylight the next, that I cannot help describing them.
The morning of the marriage-day (for the ceremony is always performed in the evening, that is, the final ceremony; for they are generally betrothed, and the fatah read, a year before) is ushered in by the music of the town or tribe, consisting of a bagpipe and two small drums, serenading the bride first,and then the bridegroom, who generally walks through the streets very finely dressed, with all the town at his heels; during which time, the women all assemble at the bride’s house, dressed in their finest clothes, and place themselves at the different holes in the wall which serve as windows, and look into the court-yard. When they are so placed, and the bride is in front of one of the windows with her face entirely covered with her barracan, the bridal clothes, consisting of silk shifts, shawls, silk trowsers, and fine barracans, to show her riches, are hung from the top of the house, quite reaching to the ground: the young Arab chiefs are permitted to pay their respects; they are preceded from the skiffa, or entrance, by their music, and a dancing woman or two advances with great form, and with slow steps, to the centre of the court, under the bride’s window: here the ladies salute their visitors, with “loo! loo! loo!” which they return by laying their right hand on their breasts, as they are conducted quite round the circle. Ample time is afforded them to survey the surrounding beauties; and there are but few, who, on these occasions, are so cruel as to keep the veil quite closed. Such an assemblage of bright black eyes, large ear-rings, and white teeth, are but rarely seen in any country, I should suppose. After having made the circuit, the largess is given, and exposed to view by the chiefdanseuse, and, according to its amount, is the donor hailed and greeted by the spectators. Previous to their departure, all visitors discharge their pistols, and then again the ladies salute with the “loo! loo!” So far from being displeased at my asking permission to pay my respects, they considered it as a favour conferred; and the bridegroom, although he could not himself be admitted, attended me to and from the house of his mistress. This ceremony being ended, a little before sunset, the bride prepares to leave her father’s house: a camel is sent for her with a jaafa[3], or sedan chair of basket-work, on its back, covered with skins of animals, shawls from Soudan, Cairo, and Timbuctoo: she steps into this, and so places herself as to see what is going forward, and yet to be entirely hid from the view of others. She is now conducted outside the town, where all the horsemen and footmen who have arms are assembled. Our escort on this occasion added greatly to the effect, as they were all, by Boo-Khaloom’s order, in the field, consisting of sixty mounted Arabs; and when they all charged and fired at the foot of the bride’s camel, I reallyfelt for the virgin’s situation; but it was thought a great honour, and that, I suppose, consoled her for the fright. They commenced by skirmishing by twos and fours, and charging in sections at full speed, always firing close under the bride’s jaafa: in this manner they proceeded three times round the town, the scene occasionally relieved by a little interlude of the bridegroom’s approaching the camel, which was surrounded by the negresses, who instantly commenced a cry, and drove him away, to the great amusement of the bystanders, exclaiming, “Burra! Burra!be off! be off!mazal shouia!a little yet!” With discharges of musketry, and the train of horsemen, &c. she is then conveyed to the bridegroom’s house; upon which it is necessary for her to appear greatly surprised, and refuse to dismount: the women scream, and the men shout, and she is at length persuaded to enter; when, after receiving a bit of sugar in her mouth from the bridegroom’s hand, and placing another bit in his, with her own fair fingers, the ceremony is finished, and they are declared man and wife.
A WOMAN OF SOCKNA.Drawn by Captn. Clapperton. R.N.Engraved by E. Finden.Published by John Murray, London. Feb. 1826.
A WOMAN OF SOCKNA.Drawn by Captn. Clapperton. R.N.Engraved by E. Finden.Published by John Murray, London. Feb. 1826.
A WOMAN OF SOCKNA.
Published by John Murray, London. Feb. 1826.
We had now to pass the Gibel Assoud, or Black Mountains: the northernmost part of this basaltic chain commences on leaving Sockna. We halted at Melaghi, or the place of meeting immediately at the foot of the mountain, the well of Agutifa; and from hence probably the most imposing view of these heights will be seen. To the south, the mountain-path of Niffdah presents its black overhanging peaks, and the deep chasm, round which the path winds, bearing a most cavern-like appearance: a little to the west, the camel path, called El Nishka, appears scarcely less difficult and precipitous; the more southern crags close in the landscape, while the foreground is occupied by the dingy and barren wadey of Agutifa, with the well immediately overhung by red ridges of limestone and clay: the whole presenting a picture of barrenness, not to be perfectly described, either by poet or painter.
Large masses of tabular basalt, and irregular precipices, common to this formation, are scattered over this range of hills, and extend over all the plains which environ them. The most lofty hills are those which present the most massive façades of tabular basalt; the sides sometimes exhibit a step-like appearance, and in many instances are overhung by pillars, curved, inclined, and perpendicular: these produce a singular effect, not devoid of grandeur. The lower stratum of all these hills is invariably limestone, mixed with a reddish clay. Hills of the same are found bordering upon, and in some casesjoining, the basaltic ones; some of these are strewed over with a covering of basalt stones of various sizes and forms, none of them large, from three to eighteen inches in circumference, but still showing the colour and structure of the soil on which they are spread. Other hills of limestone are also indiscriminately found without the slightest particle of basalt on them, although in the immediate vicinity of what could easily be imagined the ancient crater of a volcano, which had showered a sombre covering heaved from the very bowels of the earth, on all the then existing hills and plains which surrounded it. Some of these limestone hills have been cut through, either by the falling of masses of rock from the higher hills, or by violent watercourses; and a section of them reveals nothing but pure limestone mixed with clay.
The Souda, or Gibel Assoud[4], extend from north to south, three days’ journey, but in so winding a direction, as not to exceed thirty-five miles at the utmost in a straight line: to the west, as far as the well called Assela, on the road to the Shiati, where the red clay hills continue alone, and join the hills at Benioleed: to the east, they extend three days on the road to Zella, or Bengagi, to a wadey called Temelleen.
The first four days of our journey, after leaving Agutifa, were all dreariness and misery. This was the third time that I passed these deserts: but no familiarity with the scenery at all relieves the sense of wretchedness which the dread barrenness of the place inspires. We marched from dawn until dark,for the sake of getting over them as quickly as possible; and as scarcely sufficient fuel was to be found to boil a little water, a mess of cold tumuta was usually our supper. On leaving Tingazeer, we had the blessing of a rainy day; for such it was to all, but particularly to the poor negroes who accompanied the kafila, although Boo-Khaloom always gave them to drink from his skins once in the day (an unusual kindness), yet marching as they were for twelve and fourteen hours, once scarcely satisfied nature. In consequence of the rain, we found water fresh and pure during almost every day’s march, and arrived at Zeghren[5]with the loss of only one camel. On the last day, previous to arriving at the well, Omhul Abeed, a skeleton of a man, with some flesh still hanging about him, lay close to the road; but it was passed by the whole kafila, with scarcely a remark.
After these dreary wastes, it was no small pleasure to rest a day at Zeghren, the native town of a considerable merchant who accompanied our kafila. When we first left Sockna for Mourzuk, Abdi Zeleel had before taken me to his house, and presented me to his mother and sister; and he now insisted on my taking up my quarters there altogether. Almost the first person that presented herself was my friend the merchant’s sister, I had almost said the fair, Omhal Henna[6]. She had a wooden bowl of haleeb (fresh milk) in her hand, the greatest rarity she could offer, and holding out the milk with some confusion towards me with both her hands, the hood which should have concealed her beautiful features had fallen back; as my taking the milk from her would have prevented the amicable salutation we both seemed prepared for, and which consisted of four or five gentle pressures of the hand, with as manyaish harlecks, andtiebs, andham-dulillahs, she placed the bowl upon the ground, while the ceremonies of greeting, which take a much longer time in an African village than in an English drawing-room, were, by mutual consent, most cordially performed. I really could not help looking at her with astonishment,and I heartily wish that I had the power of conveying an idea of her portrait. It was theJemma(Friday), the Sabbath, and she was covered, for I cannot call it dressed, with only a blue linen barracan, which passed under one arm, and was fastened on the top of the opposite shoulder with a silver pin, the remaining part thrown round the body behind, and brought over her head as a sort of hood, which, as I remarked, had fallen off, and my having taken her hand when she set down the milk had prevented its being replaced. This accident displayed her jet black hair in numberless plaits all round her expressive face and neck, and her large sparkling eyes and little mouth, filled with the whitest teeth imaginable. She had various figures burnt on her chin with gunpowder: her complexion was a deep brown; and round her neck were eight or ten necklaces of coral and different coloured beads. So interesting a person I had not seen in the country; and on my remaining some moments with my eyes fixed on her, she recommenced the salutation, “How is your health,” &c. and smiling, asked, with great naiveté, “whether I had not learnt, during the last two months, a little more Arabic.” I assured her I had. Looking round to see if any body heard her—and having brought the hood over her face—she said, “I first heard of your coming last night, and desired the slave to mention it to my brother. I have always looked for your coming, and at night, because at night I have sometimes seen you: you were the first man whose hand I ever touched—but they all said it did not signify with you, anInsara(a Christian). God turn your heart!—but my brother says you will never become Moslem—won’t you, to please Abdi Zeleel’s sister? My mother says God would have never allowed you to come, but for your conversion.” By this time, again the hood had fallen back, and I again had taken her hand, when the unexpected appearance of Abdi Zeleel, accompanied by the governor of the town, who came to visit me, was a most unwelcome interruption. Omhal-henna quickly escaped; she had, however, overstepped the line, and I saw her no more.
Besides our own people, and the followers of Boo-Khaloom, we had a number of liberated slaves who were returning to their homes. The bashaw had given freedom to twenty-four from the castle, sixteen of whom were females. Our friend, Mohammed D’Ghies, had also liberated three young women, all under twenty, natives of Begharmi, the evening previous to our leaving Tripoli, telling them, in my presence, that his friends the English wishing to visit theircountry, was the cause of their being set at liberty. There are circumstances attached to this act of D’Ghies beyond the mere liberation of three healthy negresses, so creditable to the feelings of this excellent old man, that they must not be omitted. Two of these girls only had fallen into his hands, and on his intimating to them his intention of giving them their liberty, they told him that another sister had been brought to Tripoli with them, and sold, like themselves, to slavery; but they knew not what was become of her. Mohammed D’Ghies, after much inquiry, succeeded in finding out who had been the purchaser, paid the price demanded for her liberation, and provided the means for enabling all the sisters to return together to their own country with Boo-Khaloom.
On the 20th October, in a date grove a short distance from the town of Temenhint, we found a kafila from Mourzuk, and some of the Mamelukes who had come from Darfoor and Waday. I visited them with Boo-Khaloom: their tents scarcely held together, and they gave a deplorable account of their sufferings: two of them had been beys, and one, Mohammed Bey, was still in the prime of life, and conversed with spirit; the other, Ali Bey, appeared weighed down by his misfortunes, and was between fifty and sixty years of age: they had left Cairo fifteen years, and had passed the greater part of their exile in and near Dongala. On the approach of the army of Mohammed Ali, three hundred and fifty of them mustered at Dongala, and determined on passing to Kordofan, and from thence to Darfoor. At Darfoor they refused to receive them, and they then moved on to Wara, the capital of Waday, where also they were refused permission to remain. For four months they had been in great distress, the Waday people refusing to sell them any thing for themselves, or forage for their horses, all of which they were consequently obliged to part with: taking slaves for them, which they again exchanged for ostrich feathers, and any thing they could get. At Waday, all but twenty-six determined on proceeding to the south; they, however, afterwards altered their minds, and took the direction of the army of Mohammed Ali, meaning to claim protection there. The twenty-six left Waday just before theRhamadan(May), and followed the tracks of camels until they came to a kafila of Fezzaneers proceeding to Mourzuk: this kafila they joined; but in passing through the Tibboo Borgoo country, one of their camels strayed and tore a branch from a date tree, for which the Borgoo people beat and wounded oneof the Mameluke slaves: this was resented by the Mamelukes, and a quarrel ensued, which the Fezzaneers in vain attempted to arrange. They also became sufferers: the Borgoo people attacked and followed the kafila for five days, during which time twenty of the Mamelukes were killed, and thirteen of the Fezzaneers; the six remaining Mamelukes were now on their way to Tripoli, in the hope of obtaining from the bashaw permission to pass the remainder of their lives in his regency: they had lost forty thousand dollars since leaving Egypt.
Mohammed Bey describes the people of Borgoo and Waday as savages of the worst description, abhorring even the sight of a white man. I told him it was my intention to proceed in the direction of Darfoor, if possible: he replied, placing my hand in Boo-Khaloom’s, “Do not leave this good man, Sidi-Rais, if you hope to return.”—But rarely a kafila passes from Dongala to Darfoor; to Bornou, never. The army of Egypt had been repulsed with considerable loss at Darfoor; the people of which country, Mohammed Bey said, could muster one hundred thousand men, armed, in the field, equipped with artillery and mortars. The beys of Egypt had sent the King of Darfoor, many years ago, eight pieces of ordnance; they had made others, and worked them, as well as the people of Egypt themselves. The army had gone south, and meant to over-run all the Kordofan, when it was thought, if they had no reinforcement, that they would return to Egypt: with their present strength, they could do nothing with Darfoor, but the people of Darfoor wished for peace with Mohammed Ali, and feared him; on this account it was that they would not receive the Mamelukes. Affecting my own plans so materially as this information appeared to do, it was listened to by me with the deepest interest.
On Thursday, the 24th of October, we halted at Sebha, and remained there until Saturday the 26th, gathering our escort and collecting our supplies.
On Wednesday, the 30th October, we made our entrée into Mourzuk with all the parade and show that we could muster. By Boo-Khaloom’s presents to the bashaw, but chiefly on account of his having undertaken to conduct us to Bornou, he had not only gained the bashaw’s favour, but had left Tripoli with strong proofs of his master’s consideration. Boo-Khaloom, naturally liberal, had, by successful trade, been enabled early in life to gratify his charitable and benevolent inclinations. This made him so popular in Mourzuk, that nearly half the inhabitants came out to meet him, at a short distance from the town,although not any of the authorities, and we entered the gates amidst the shouts of the people, preceded by singing and dancing women; and the Arabs who formed our escort made such repeated charges upon their jaded and tired animals, that I really expected some of them would “fall to rise no more.” No living creatures can be treated worse than an Arab’s wife and his horse, and if plurality could be transferred from the marriage bed to the stable, both wives and horses would be much benefited by the change.
I could not quite resist a sensation of disappointment that no friends came out to meet me: but as the sun was insufferably powerful, and as I had received a message by Boo-Khaloom’s brother, from Doctor Oudney, that he was unwell, and that Clapperton had the ague, I did not much expect it; I was, however, by no means prepared to see either of them so much reduced as they were. Both my companions and Hillman I found had been confined to their beds withhemma(fever and ague), had been delirious, and the Doctor and Hillman only a little recovered. Clapperton was still on his bed, which for fifteen days he had not quitted. Doctor Oudney was suffering also from a severe complaint in his chest, arising from a cold caught during his excursion to Ghraat, and nothing could be more disheartening than their appearance. The opinion of every body, Arabs, Tripolines, and our predecessors, were unanimous as to the insalubrity of its air. To account physically for the sickliness of the place, was beyond the powers of wiser medical heads than mine, but facts are stubborn things. Mr. Ritchie had fatally felt the baneful influence of the climate of Mourzuk, and Captain Lyon had suffered extremely during his stay there: every one of us, some in a greater or less degree, had been seriously disordered; and amongst the inhabitants themselves, any thing like a healthy looking person was a rarity.
Notwithstanding Boo-Khaloom made every exertion in his power to get away from Mourzuk as early as possible, yet, from the numerous arrangements which it was necessary for him to make, for the provisioning so many persons during a journey through a country possessing no resources, it was the 29th November before those arrangements were complete. Doctor Oudney and Mr. Clapperton, from a most praiseworthy impatience to proceed on their journey, and at the same time, thinking their health might be benefited by the change of air, preceded him to Gatrone by ten days. I had remained behind to urge Boo-Khaloom and expedite his departure, and we thought bythese means to obviate any wish which he might have to delay on account of his private affairs, even for a day. Our caution was, however, needless; no man could be more anxious to obey the orders he had received, and forward our views, than himself: indeed so peremptory had been the commands of the bashaw, in consequence of the representations of our consul general, when complaining of former procrastination, that Boo-Khaloom’s personal safety depended on his expedition, and of this he was well aware.
It may not be unacceptable to the reader, if I here give some account of the strength of our party.
I had succeeded in engaging, on my return to Tripoli, as an attendant to accompany me to Bornou, a native of the island of St. Vincent, whose real name was Adolphus Sympkins; but who, in consequence of his having run away from home, and in a merchant vessel traversed half the world over, had acquired the name of Columbus; he had been several years in the service of the bashaw, spoke three European languages, and perfect Arabic. This person was of the greatest service to the mission, and so faithful an attendant, that His Majesty’s government have since employed him to accompany my former companion and colleague, Captain Clapperton, on the arduous service he is now engaged in: we had besides three free negroes, whom we had hired in Tripoli as our private servants; Jacob, a Gibraltar Jew, who was a sort of store-keeper; four men to look after our camels; and these, with Mr. Hillman and ourselves, made up the number of our household to thirteen persons. We were also accompanied by several merchants from Mesurata, Tripoli, Sockna, and Mourzuk, who gladly embraced the protection of our escort to proceed to the interior with their merchandize.
The Arabs in the service of the bashaw of Tripoli, by whom we were to be escorted to Bornou, and on whose good conduct our success almost wholly depended, were now nearly all assembled, and had been chosen from the most obedient tribes; they gained considerably in our good opinion, each day we became better acquainted with them: they were not only a great and most necessary protection to us, breaking the ground as we were for any Europeans who might follow our steps, but enlivened us greatly on our dreary desert way by their infinite wit and sagacity, as well as by their poetry, extempore and traditional. We had several amongst our party who shone as orators in verse, to use the idiom of their own expressive language, particularly one of the tribeof Boo Saiff Marabooteens, or gifted persons, who would sing for an hour together, faithfully describing the whole of our journey for the preceding fortnight, relating the most trifling occurrence that had happened, even to the name of the well, and the colour and taste of the water, with astonishing rapidity and humour, and in very tolerable poetry; while some of his traditionary ballads were beautiful. The names of the chiefs who were to accompany us were as follows:—
Of the tribe of M’Garha, Sheikh Abdi Smud ben Erhoma, from the Syrtis, with seventy men. He often said that his father’s name was renowned in song, for having killed one hundred men with his own hand in battle, and please God! he should exceed him, for he was but thirty-five, and had brought forty to the ground already.
The M’Garhas are at this time in great favour with the bashaw, and entirely exempt from tribute of any sort, from having assisted him very materially in annihilating the Waled Suleyman: I must, therefore, give some account of them.
They principally inhabit the Syrtis, where a considerable body always remain; tribes of them, with their flocks, pitch their tents for the months of pasture wherever they can find forage, and in times of peace even to within a few leagues of Tripoli. When the present bashaw determined on putting a finishing stroke to the Waled Suleyman, by the extermination of the tribe, he, like a wily politician, sent offers of peace and protection to the M’Garha, the ancient and inveterate enemies of the Seffenusser[7]. In their occasional skirmishes, no quarter was given; and a Waled Suleyman literally sucked the blood of a M’Garha, after giving him the finishing blow: children were even called upon to follow the parent’s example, so that they might imbibe all the hatred felt by their ancestors, and vice versa. The tribe of M’Garha readily accepted the bashaw’s offers; and with their assistance, about six years back, the Waled Suleyman struggled with the power of the bashaw for the last time. It was near the borders of Fezzan, in one of those extensive upland plains called Hormut Mahulla, that the grandsons of Seffenusser, the last of the house, returned from Egypt, and headed the remaining followers of their ancestors. The Orfilly, and several other tribes, flocked to the standard: the M’Garhamarched from the eastward to assist the bashaw, who came from the side of Tripoli; the rebels were surrounded, and the Orfilly capitulated, promising an enormous tribute. No terms were, however, granted to the Waled Suleyman; they were followed with fire and sword to their very huts—Seffenusser’s children fell into the hands of their enemies; they were, however, spared, and two of them sent to Mourzuk. Since that time, the name of Waled Suleyman is scarcely breathed; indeed the tribe has ceased to exist, with the exception of some few who escaped to Egypt. A solitary being, who thinks himself unobserved, is sometimes pointed out to you as having been one; but his misery protects him. So complete an overthrow of the most numerous tribe that inhabited the regency of Tripoli, and one whose riches and influence were so well known, has had the effect of humbling the turbulent spirit of the Arabs to a wonderful degree: the bashaw rules them literally with a rod of iron, and for the slightest cause he has the heads of their sheikhs over the gates of his palace in a few hours. He makes it his policy to keep up their feuds and ancient enmities, by which means he prevents that unanimity which might make them dangerous. The name of Seffenusser is, however, still the tocsin of revolt; it is in itself a thousand strong; and the bravery displayed by Abdi Zeleel, the eldest survivor of the name, during the late campaign in the negro country, has not a little contributed to strengthen the feeling.
Abdallah Bougeel, a chief and a warrior, from the Shiati, whose father and grandfather died because they would not fly; who never attended to flocks, but were chief in fight—twenty men.
Sheikh Sultan ben Kaid, from the Shiati, a great warrior, who had a terrible wound in his face, which had nearly demolished his nose, from the sword of a Tuarick—ten men.
Hamed el Geide, Shiati—ten men.
Hamed Bendou el Hothmani, Shiati—ten men.
Sheikh Boo Bucker Saakhi, Shiati—ten men.
Salem Asheneen Hashnuowy, Shiati—thirty men.
The Maraboot Sid Hassan ben Eran—ten men.
Il R’baiah—ten men.
Boo Ahgoom, Osfilly—twenty men.
Futhaem—ten men.
Arabs are generally thin meagre figures, though possessing expressive and sometimes handsome features, great violence of gesture and muscular action. Irritable and fiery, they are unlike the dwellers in towns and cities: noisy and loud, their common conversational intercourse appears to be a continual strife and quarrel; they are, however, brave, eloquent, and deeply sensible of shame. I have known an Arab of the lower class refuse his food for days together, because in a skirmish his gun had missed fire: to use his own words, “Gulbi wahr,” “My heart aches;” “Bindikti kedip hashimtni gedam el naz;” “My gun lied, and shamed me before the people.” Much has been said of their want of cleanliness; I should, however, without hesitation, pronounce them to be much more cleanly than the lower order of people in any European country. Circumcision, and the shaving the hair from the head, and every other part of the body; the frequent ablutions which their religion compels them to perform; all tend to enforce practices of cleanliness. Vermin, from the climate of their country, they, as well as every other person, must be annoyed with; and although the lower ranks have not the means of frequently changing their covering (for it scarcely can be called apparel), yet they endeavour to free themselves as much as possible from the persecuting vermin. Their mode of dress has undergone no change for centuries back; and the words of Fenelon will at this day apply with equal truth to their present appearance[8].
The fondness of an Arab for traditional history of the most distinguished actions of their remote ancestors is proverbial: professed story-tellers are ever the appendages to a man of rank: his friends will assemble before his tent, or on the platforms with which the houses of the Moorish Arabs are roofed, and there listen, night after night, to a continued history for sixty, or sometimes one hundred nights together. It is a great exercise of genius, and a peculiar gift, held in high estimation amongst them. They have a quickness and clearness of delivery, with a perfect command of words, surprising to a European ear: they never hesitate, are never at a loss; their descriptions are highly poetical, and their relations exemplified by figure and metaphor, themost striking and appropriate: their extempore songs are also full of fire, and possess many beautiful and happy similes. Certain tribes are celebrated for this gift of extempore speaking and singing; the chiefs cultivate the propensity in their children; and it is often possessed, to an astonishing degree, by men who are unable either to read or write.
Arabic songs go to the heart, and excite greatly the passions: I have seen a circle of Arabs straining their eyes with a fixed attention at one moment, and bursting with loud laughter; at the next, melting into tears, and clasping their hands in all the ecstacy of grief and sympathy.
Their attachment to pastoral life is ever favourable to love. Many of these children of the desert possess intelligence and feeling, which belong not to the savage; accompanied by an heroic courage, and a thorough contempt of every mode of gaining their livelihood, except by the sword and gun. An Arab values himself chiefly on his expertness in arms and horsemanship, and on hospitality.
Hospitality was ever habitual to them. At this day, the greatest reproach to an Arab tribe is, “that none of their men have the heart to give, nor their women to deny.” Nor does this feeling of liberality alone extend to the chiefs, or Arabs of high birth: I have known the poor and wandering Bedouin to practise a degree of charity and hospitality far beyond his means, from a sense of duty alone.
Notwithstanding all the savageness of an Arab, there are sometimes noble thoughts which seem to cross over his powerful mind; and then again to leave him choked up with weeds of too strong a growth to be rooted out.
The M’Garha sheikhs were, after the defeat of Waled Suleyman, all taken into the bashaw’s service; and are now amongst his most faithful and favoured followers. Abdi Zeleel ben Seffenusser, upon his submission, had been assigned some portion of his grandsire’s extensive lands at Sebha in Fezzan; and on his being ordered to repair with a certain number of camels to Mourzuk, and to accompany the Sultan of Fezzan into the negro country, he was reported to have delayed obeying the order: his enemies attributed his reluctance to disaffection and want of courage. The bashaw’s judgment was summary; and Hamet Ghreneim, the brother of my chaoush, was despatched with a letter to Abdi Zeleel, and orders to stab him while he read it, and return with his head. TheM’Garha had five hundred miles to ride, previous to executing his bloody commission; and, by his account to me, it was the sixteenth of the same kind that he had been intrusted with: he seldom failed either in the execution or in receiving the reward, which always follows: “they were his master’s orders—with Bis milla! (in God’s name) he struck, and struck home!” His victim, in this case, was of more consequence than any of his former ones, and his reward would have been greater in proportion: Hamet was withal the descendant of the old enemy of his clan; but there was still some magic in the name of the Seffenusser. They were a race of heroes—cowardice could not be a crime for any of the blood to be guilty of; and the chance of being strangled on his return appeared to him preferable to assassinating Abdi Zeleel, and he determined on hesitating before he executed the bashaw’s orders. On arriving at the hut of the Arab chief, notwithstanding his fallen state, friends enough remained to warn him of his approaching fate: he met Hamet at the door, kissed the signet of the bashaw, and desired him to perform his office; adding, “You are a M’Garha, and an enemy to our house.” “I am,” replied the other, “and therefore not capable of assassinating a Seffenusser: if you are guilty, fly—mine be the risk.”
Cowardice is ever visited in an Arab by the most disgraceful punishments; he is often bound, and led through the huts of the whole tribe, with the bowels and offal of a bullock, or some other animal, tied round his head; and amongst a people who only desire to be rich in order to increase the number of their wives, probably the greatest punishment of all is, that could even any woman be found who would receive him as a husband, which would be an extraordinary circumstance, no Arab would allow him to enter into his family with such a stain on his character as cowardice.
Theamor patriædiscoverable in even the wildest inhabitant of the most barren rock is not felt by the wandering Arab, or the Moor. He wanders from pasture to pasture, from district to district, without any local attachment; and his sole delight is a roving, irregular, but martial life. I have met with several, mostly Moors of Mesurata and Sockna, who have made three times the pilgrimage to Mecca; visited severally all the ports in the Red Sea; had been in Syria, from St. Jean d’Acre to Antioch; had traded to Smyrna and Constantinople, visiting Cyprus, Rhodes, and most of the islands in the Archipelago;had penetrated to the west of Nyffe, in Soudan, and every other part of the black country; had been two or three times stripped and robbed of every thing in the Negro country, escaping only with life, after receiving several wounds. Some of them had not seen their families for fifteen or twenty years, yet were still planning new expeditions, with as much glee as if they were just beginning life, instead of tottering on the brink of death.
Arabs have always been commended by the ancients for the fidelity of their attachments, and they are still scrupulously exact to their words, and respectful to their kindred; they have been universally celebrated for their quickness of apprehension and penetration, and the vivacity of their wit. Their language is certainly one of the most ancient in the world; but it has many dialects. The Arabs, however, have their vices and their defects; they are naturally addicted to war, bloodshed, and cruelty; and so malicious as scarcely ever to forget an injury.
Their frequent robberies committed on traders and travellers, have rendered the name of an Arab almost infamous in Europe. Amongst themselves, however, they are most honest, and true to the rites of hospitality; and towards those whom they receive as friends into their camp, every thing is open, and nothing ever known to be stolen: enter but once into the tent of an Arab, and by the pressure of his hand he ensures you protection, at the hazard of his life. An Arab is ever true to his bread and salt; once eat with him, and a knot of friendship is tied which cannot easily be loosened.
Arabs have been truly described as a distinct class of mankind. In the bashaw’s dominions, they have never been entirely subdued: violent attempts at subjugation have often deprived them of tracts of their vast territories; whole tribes have been annihilated; but, as a people, they have ever remained independent and free.
The few fertile spots of scanty verdure, called “oases,” which now and then refresh the languid senses of the weary traveller, and which are desolate, beyond the wildest wastes of European land, are the tracts inhabited by the eastern Arabs. Masses of conglomerated sand obstruct the path which leads to these oases or wadeys; nothing relieves the eye, as it stretches over the wide expanse, except where the desert scene is broken by a chain of bleak and barren mountains: no cooling breezes freshen the air: the sun descends in overpoweringforce: the winds scorch as they pass; and bring with them billows of sand, rolling along in masses frightfully suffocating, which sometimes swallow up whole caravans and armies, burying them in their pathless depths!