WE daily followed the banks of the Rahad, the monotony of which I will not inflict upon the public. This country was a vast tract of wonderfully fertile prairie, that nearly formed an island, surrounded by the Rahad, Blue Nile, Great Nile, and Atbara; it was peopled by various tribes of Arabs, who cultivated a considerable extent upon the banks of the Rahad, which for upwards of a hundred miles to the north were bordered with villages at short intervals. Cotton and tobacco were produced largely, and we daily met droves of camels laden with these goods, en route for the Abyssinian market. We had now fairly quitted Abyssinian territory, and upon our arrival at the Rahad we were upon the soil of Upper Egypt. I was much struck with the extraordinary size and condition of the cattle. Corn (dhurra) was so plentiful that it was to be purchased in any quantity for eight piastres the rachel, or about 1s. 8d. for 500 pounds; pumpkins were in great quantities, with a description of gourd with an exceedingly strong shell, which is grown especially for bowls and other utensils; camel-loads of these gourd-basins packed in conical crates were also journeying on the road towards Gallabat. Throughout the course of the Rahad the banks are high, and, when full, the river would average forty feet in depth, with a gentle stream, the course free from rocks and shoals, and admirably adapted for small steamers.
The entire country would be a mine of wealth were it planted with cotton, which could be transported by camels to Katariff, and thence direct to Souakim. We travelled for upwards of a hundred miles along the river, through the unvarying scene of flat alluvial soil; the south bank was generally covered with low jungle. The Arabs were always civil, and formed a marked contrast to the Tokrooris; they were mostly of the Roofar tribe. Although there had been a considerable volume of water in the river at the point where we had first met it, the bed was perfectly dry about fifty miles farther north, proving the great power of absorption by the sand. The Arabs obtained water from deep pools in the river, similar to those in the Atbara, but on a small scale, of not sufficient importance to contain hippopotami, which at this season retired to the river Dinder. Wherever we slept we were besieged by gaping crowds of Arabs: these people were quite unaccustomed to strangers, as the route we had chosen along the banks of the Rahad was entirely out of the line adopted by the native merchants and traders of Khartoum, who travelled via Abou Harraz and Katariff to Gallabat. These Arabs were, as usual, perfectly wild, and ignorant of everything that did not immediately concern them. My compass had always been a source of wonder to the natives, and I was asked whether by looking into it I rould distinguish the "market days" of the different villages. My own Tokrooris continually referred to me for information on various topics, and, if I declined to reply, they invariably begged me to examine my moondera (mirror), as they termed the compass, and see what it would say. This country swarmed with Arabs, and abounded in supplies: superb fat oxen were seven dollars each; large fowls were a penny; and eggs were at the rate of nine for a penny farthing.
We arrived at a large village, Sherrem, on May 11, having marched 118 miles in a straight line along the course of the Rahad. The heat was extreme, but I had become so thoroughly accustomed to the sun that I did not feel it so much as my men, whose heads were covered with a thin cap of cotton (the tageea). My camel-men had expected to find their families at a village that we had passed about six miles from Sherrem, and they had been rejoicing in anticipation, but on arrival we found it deserted,—"family out of town;" the men were quite dejected; but upon arrival at Sherrem they found all their people, who had migrated for water, as the river was dry. We waited at Sherrem for a couple of days to rest the men, whose feet were much swollen with marching on the burning soil. Although frequent showers had fallen at Gallabat, we had quickly entered the dry country upon steering north, where neither dew nor rain had moistened the ground for many months. The country was treeless on the north bank of the Rahad, and the rich alluvial soil was free from a single stone or pebble for many miles. Although for 118 miles we had travelled along the course of the Rahad, throughout this distance only one small brook furrowed the level surface and added its waters during the rainy season to the river; the earth absorbed the entire rainfall. Our camels were nearly driven mad by the flies which swarmed throughout the fertile districts.
On the 15th of May we arrived at Kook, a small village on the banks of the Rahad, and on the following morning we started to the west for the river Dinder. The country was the usual rich soil, but covered with high grass and bush; it was uninhabited, except by wandering Arabs and their flocks, that migrate at the commencement of the rainy season, when this land becomes a mere swamp, and swarms with the seroot fly. At 6.30 we halted, and slept on the road. This was the main route to Sennaar, from which place strings of camels were passing to the Rahad, to purchase corn. On the 16th of May, we started by moonlight at 4.30 A.M. due west, and at 7.30 A.M. we arrived at the river Dinder, which, at this point, was eighteen miles from the village of Kook, on the Rahad.
We joined a camp of the Kunana Arabs, who at this season throng the banks of the Dinder. This river is similar in character to the Rahad, but larger: the average breadth is about a hundred and ten yards: the banks are about fifty feet high, and the immediate vicinity is covered with thick jungle of nabbuk and thorny acacias, with a great quantity of the Acacia Arabica, that produces the garra, already described as valuable for tanning leather. I made ink with this fruit, pounded and boiled, to which I added a few rusty nails, and allowed it to stand for about twenty-four hours. The Dinder was exceedingly deep in many places, although in others the bed was dry, with the exception of a most trifling stream that flowed through a narrow channel in the sand, about an inch in depth. The Arabs assured me that the crocodiles in this river were more dangerous than in any other, and their flocks of goats and sheep were attended by a great number of boys, to prevent the animals from descending to the water to drink, except in such places as had been prepared for them by digging small holes in the sand. I saw many of these creatures, of very large size; and, as I strolled along the banks of the river, I found a herd of hippopotami, of which I shot two, to the great delight of my people, who had been much disappointed at the absence of game throughout our journey from Gallabat. We had travelled upwards of 200 miles without having seen so much as a gazelle, neither had we passed any tracks of large game, except, upon one occasion, those of a few giraffes. I had been told that the Dinder country was rich in game, but, at this season, it was swarming with Arabs, and was so much disturbed that everything had left the country, and the elephants merely drank during the night, and retreated to distant and impenetrable jungles. At night we heard a lion roar, but this, instead of being our constant nightingale, as upon the Settite river, was now an uncommon sound. The maneless lion is found on the banks of the Dinder; all that I saw, in the shape of game, in the neighbourhood of that river and the Rahad, were a few hippopotami and crocodiles. The stream of the Dinder is obstructed with many snags and trunks of fallen trees that would be serious obstacles to rapid navigation: these are the large stems of the soont (Acacia Arabica), that, growing close to the edge, have fallen into the river when the banks have given way. I was astonished at the absence of elephants in such favourable ground; for some miles I walked along the margin of the river without seeing a track of any date. Throughout this country, these animals are so continually hunted that they have become exceedingly wary, and there can be little doubt that their numbers are much reduced. Even in the beautiful shooting country comprised between the river Gash and Gallabat, although we had excellent sport, I had been disappointed at the number of elephants, which I had expected to find in herds of many hundreds, instead of forty or fifty, which was the largest number that I had seen together. The habits of all animals generally depend upon the nature of the localities they inhabit. Thus, as these countries were subject to long drought and scarcity of water, the elephants were, in some places, contented with drinking every alternate day. Where they were much hunted by the aggageers, they would seldom drink twice consecutively in the same river; but, after a long draught in the Settite, they would march from twenty-five to thirty miles, and remain for a day between that river and the Mareb or Gash, to which they would hurry on the following night. At other times, these wily animals would drink in the Settite, and retire to the south; feeding upon Mek Nimmur's corn-fields, they would hurry forward to the river Salaam, about thirty miles distant, and from thence, in a similar manner, either to the Atbara on one side, or into the Abyssinian mountains, where, at all times, they could procure a supply of water. I have frequently discovered fresh grains of dhurra in their dung, at a great distance from the nearest corn-field; when the rapid digestion of the elephant is considered, it must be allowed that the fresh dung found in the morning bore witness to the theft of corn during the past night; thus the elephant had marched many miles after feeding. In the "Rifle and Hound in Ceylon," published in 1854, I gave a detailed description of the elephants of that country, which, although peculiar in the general absence of tusks, are the same as the Indian species.
Although the elephant is found throughout many countries, extending over an enormous area, there are only two species at present in existence,—the Indian and African; these are totally different in their habits, and are distinguished by peculiarities of form. The most striking difference is in the shape of the head and spine. The head of the Indian species is perfectly distinct; the forehead, when held in the natural position of inaction, is perpendicular; and above the slight convexity at the root of the trunk there is a depression, in shape like a herald's shield: a bullet in the lower portion of that shield would reach the brain in a direct line. The head of the African elephant is completely convex from the commencement of the trunk to the back of the skull, and the brain is situated much lower than in that of the Indian species; the bone is of a denser quality, and the cases for the reception of the tusks are so closely parallel, that there is barely room for a bullet to find a chance of penetrating to the brain; it must be delivered in the exact centre, and extremely low, in the very root of the trunk; even then it will frequently pass above the brain, as the animal generally carries his head high, and thrown slightly back. The teeth of the African elephant differ materially from those of the Indian, by containing a lesser number of laminae or plates, the surfaces of which, instead of exhibiting straight and parallel lines like those of the Indian, are shaped in slight curves, which increase the power of grinding. The ears of the African species are enormous, and when thrown back they completely cover the shoulders; they are also entirely different in shape from those of the Indian species. When an African bull elephant advances in full charge with his ears cocked, his head measures about fourteen feet from the tip of one ear to that of the other, in a direct line across the forehead. I have frequently cut off the ear to form a mat, upon which I have slept beneath the shade of a tree, while my people divided the animal.
The back of the Indian elephant is exceedingly convex; that of the African is exactly the reverse, and the concavity behind the shoulders is succeeded by a peculiarity in the sudden rise of the spine above the hips. The two species are not only distinct in certain peculiarities of form, but they differ in their habits. The Indian elephant dislikes the sun, and invariably retreats to thick shady forests at sunrise; but I have constantly found the African species enjoying themselves in the burning sun in the hottest hours of the day, among plains of withered grass, many miles from a jungle. The African is more active than the Indian, and not only is faster in his movements, but is more capable of enduring long marches, as proved by the great distances through which it travels to seek its food in the native's corn-fields. In all countries, the bulls are fiercer than the females. I cannot see much difference in character between the Indian and the African species; it is the fashion for some people to assert that the elephant is an innocent and harmless creature, that, like the giraffe it is almost a sin to destroy. I can only say that, during eight years' experience in Ceylon, and nearly five years' in Africa, I have found that elephants are the most formidable animals with which a sportsman has to contend. The African species is far more dangerous than the Indian, as the forehead shot can never be trusted; therefore the hunter must await the charge with a conviction that his bullet will fail to kill.
The African elephant is about a foot higher than the average of the Indian species. The bulls of the former are about ten feet six inches at the shoulder; the females are between nine feet and nine feet six. Of course there are many bulls that exceed this height, and I have seen some few of both species that might equal twelve feet, but those are the exceptional Goliaths.
The tusks of elephants vary considerably, and there appears to be no rule to determine a reason for their size and quality. In Abyssinia and Taka, a single tusk of a bull elephant seldom exceeds forty pounds, nor do they average more than twenty-five, but in Central Africa they average about forty, and I have seen them upwards of one hundred and fifty pounds. The largest that I have had the good fortune to bag was eighty pounds; the fellow-tusk was slightly below seventy. Elephants invariably use one tusk in preference, as we use the right hand; thus it is difficult to obtain an exact pair, as the Hadam (or servant), as the Arabs call the working tusk, is generally much worn. The African elephant is a more decided tree-feeder than the Indian, and the destruction committed by a large herd of such animals when feeding in a mimosa forest is extraordinary; they deliberately march forward, and uproot or break down every tree that excites their appetite. The mimosas are generally from sixteen to twenty feet high, and, having no tap-root, they are easily overturned by the tusks of the elephants, which are driven like crowbars beneath the roots, and used as levers, in which rough labour they are frequently broken. Upon the overthrow of a tree, the elephants eat the roots and leaves, and strip the bark from the branches by grasping them with their rough trunks.
The African elephant is equally docile as the Indian, when domesticated, but we have no account of a negro tribe that has ever tamed one of these sagacious animals: their only maxim is "kill and eat." Although the flesh of the elephant is extremely coarse, the foot and trunk are excellent, if properly cooked. A hole should be dug in the earth, about four feet deep, and two feet six inches in diameter, the sides of which should be perpendicular; in this a large fire should be lighted, and kept burning for four or five hours with a continual supply of wood, so that the walls become red-hot. At the expiration of the blaze, the foot should be laid upon the glowing embers, and the hole covered closely with thick pieces of green wood laid parallel together to form a ceiling; this should be covered with wet grass, and the whole plastered with mud, and stamped tightly down to retain the heat. Upon the mud, a quantity of earth should be heaped, and the oven should not be opened for thirty hours, or more. At the expiration of that time, the foot will be perfectly baked, and the sole will separate like a shoe, and expose a delicate substance that, with a little oil and vinegar, together with an allowance of pepper and salt, is a delicious dish that will feed about fifty men.
The Arabs are particularly fond of elephant's flesh, as it is generally fat and juicy. I have frequently used the fat of the animal for cooking, but it should be taken from the body without delay; as, if left for a few hours, it partakes of the peculiar smell of the elephant, which no amount of boiling will overcome. The boiling of fat for preservation requires much care, as it should attain so great a heat that a few drops of water thrown upon the surface will hiss and evaporate as though cast upon molten metal; it should then be strained, and, when tolerably cool, be poured into vessels, and secured. No salt is necessary, provided it is thoroughly boiled. When an animal is killed, the flesh should be properly dried, before boiling down, otherwise the fat will not melt thoroughly, as it will be combined with the water contained in the body. The fat should be separated as well as possible from the meat; it should then be hung in long strips upon a line and exposed in the sun to dry; when nearly dried, it should be cut into pieces of about two inches in length, and placed in a large vessel over a brisk fire, and kept constantly stirred. As the fat boils out from the meat, the residue should be taken out with a pierced ladle; this, when cool, should be carefully preserved in leathern bags. This is called by the Arabs "reveet," a supply of which is most valuable, as a quantity can be served out to each man during a long march when there is no time to halt; it can be eaten without bread, and it is extremely nourishing. With a good supply of reveet in store, the traveller need not be nervous about his dinner. Dried meat should also be kept in large quantities; the best is that of the giraffe and hippopotamus, but there is some care required in preparing the first quality. It should be cut from portions of the animals as free as possible from sinews, and should be arranged in long thin strips of the diameter of about an inch and a quarter; these ribbon-like morsels should be hung in the shade. When nearly dry, they should be taken down, and laid upon a flat rock, upon which they should be well beaten with a stone, or club of hard wood; this breaks the fibre; after which they should be hung up and thoroughly dried, care being taken that the flesh is not exposed to the sun. If many flies are present, the flesh should be protected by the smoke of fires lighted to windward.
When meat is thus carefully prepared, it can be used in various ways, and is exceedingly palatable; if pounded into small pieces like coarse sawdust, it forms an admirable material for curry and rice. The Arabs make a first-class dish of melach, by mixing a quantity of pounded dried meat with a thick porridge of dhurra meal, floating in a soup of barmian (waker), with onions, salt, and red peppers; this is an admirable thing if the party is pressed for time (if not too hot, as a large quantity can be eaten with great expedition. As the Arabs are nomadic, they have a few simple but effective arrangements for food during the journey. For a fortnight preparatory to an expedition, the women are busily engaged in manufacturing a supply of abrey. This is made in several methods: there is the sour, and the sweet abrey; the former is made of highly-fermented dhurra paste that has turned intensely acid; this is formed into thin wafers, about sixteen inches in diameter, upon the doka or hearth, and dried in the sun until the abrey has become perfectly crisp; the wafers are then broken up with the hands, and packed in bags. There is no drink more refreshing than water poured over a handful of sour abrey, and allowed to stand for half an hour; it becomes pleasantly acid, and is superior to lemonade. The residue is eaten by the Arabs: thus the abrey supplies both meat and drink. The finest quality of sweet abrey is a very delicate affair; the flour of dhurra must be well sifted; it is then mixed with milk instead of water, and, without fermenting, it is formed into thin wafers similar to those eaten with ice-creams in this country, but extremely large; these are dried in the sun, and crushed like the sour abrey; they will keep for months if kept dry in a leathern bag. A handful of sweet abrey steeped in a bowl of hot milk, with a little honey, is a luxurious breakfast; nothing can be more delicious, and it can be prepared in a few minutes during the short halt upon a journey. With a good supply of abrey and dried meat, the commissariat arrangements are wonderfully simplified, and a party can march a great distance without much heavy baggage to impede their movements.
The flesh that is the least adapted for drying is that of the buffalo (Bos Caffer), which is exceedingly tough and coarse. There are two species of the Bos Caffer in Abyssinia and Central Africa, which, similar in general appearance, differ in the horns; that which resembles the true Bos Caffer of South Africa has very massive convex horns that unite in front, and completely cover the forehead as with a shield; the other variety has massive, but perfectly flat horns of great breadth, that do not quite unite over the os frontis, although nearly so; the flatness of the horns continues in a rough surface, somewhat resembling the bark of a tree, for about twelve inches; the horns then become round, and curve gracefully inwards, like those of the convex species. Buffaloes are very dangerous and determined animals; but, although more accidents occur in hunting these than any other variety of game, I cannot admit that they are such formidable opponents as the elephant and black rhinoceros; they are so much more numerous than the latter, that they are more frequently encountered: hence the casualties.
A buffalo can always be killed with a No. 10 rifle and six drachms of powder when charging, if the hunter will only wait coolly until it is so close that he cannot miss the forehead; but the same rifle will fail against an African elephant, or a black rhinoceros, as the horns of the latter animal effectually protect the brain from a front shot. I have killed some hundreds of buffaloes, and, although in many cases they have been unpleasantly near, the rifle has always won the day. There cannot be a more convenient size than No. 10 for a double rifle, for large game. This will throw a conical projectile of three ounces, with seven drachms of powder. Although a breechloader is a luxury, I would not have more than a pair of such rifles in an expedition in a wild country, as they would require more care in a damp climate than the servants would be likely to bestow upon them, and the ammunition would be a great drawback. This should be divided into packets of ten cartridges each, which should be rolled up in flannel and hermetically sealed in separate tin canisters. Thus arranged, they would be impervious to damp, and might be carried conveniently. But I should decidedly provide myself with four double-barrelled muzzle-loading No. 10's as my regular battery; that, if first class, would never get out of order. Nothing gives such confidence to the gun-bearers as the fact of their rifles being good slayers, and they quickly learn to take a pride in their weapons, and to strive in the race to hand the spare rifles. Dust storms, such as I have constantly witnessed in Africa, would be terrible enemies to breech-loaders, as the hard sand, by grating in the joints, would wear away the metal, and destroy the exactness of the fittings.
A small handy double rifle, such as my little Fletcher 24, not exceeding eight pounds and a half, is very necessary, as it should seldom be out of the hand. Such a rifle should be a breech-loader, as the advantage of loading quickly while on horseback is incalculable. Hunting-knives should be of soft steel, similar to butchers' knives; but one principal knife to be worn daily should be of harder steel, with the back of the blade roughed and case-hardened like a butcher's steel, for sharpening other knives when required.
All boxes for rough travelling should be made of strong metal, japanned. These are a great comfort, as they are proof both against insects and weather, and can be towed with their contents across a river.
Travelling is now so generally understood, that it is hardly necessary to give any instructions for the exploration of wild countries; but a few hints may be acceptable upon points that, although not absolutely essential, tend much to the comfort of the traveller. A couple of large carriage umbrellas with double lining, with small rings fixed to the extremities of the ribs, and a spike similar to that of a fishing-rod to screw into the handle, will form an instantaneous shelter from sun or rain during a halt on the march, as a few strings from the rings will secure it from the wind, if pegged to the ground. Waterproof calico sheeting should be taken in large quantities, and a tarpaulin to protect the baggage during the night's bivouac. No vulcanised India-rubber should be employed in tropical climates; it rots, and becomes useless. A quart syringe for injecting brine into fresh meat is very necessary. In hot climates, the centre of the joint will decompose before the salt can penetrate to the interior, but an injecting syringe will thoroughly preserve the meat in a few minutes. A few powerful fox-traps are useful for catching night-game in countries where there is no large game for the rifle: also wire is useful for making springs.
Several sticks of Indian-ink are convenient, as sufficient can be rubbed up in a few moments to write up the note-book during the march. All journals and note-books should be of tinted paper, green, as the glare of white paper in the intense sunlight of the open sky is most trying to the eyes. Burning glasses and flint and steels are very necessary. Lucifer matches are dangerous, as they may ignite and destroy your baggage in dry weather, and become utterly useless in the damp.
A large supply of quicksilver should be taken for the admixture with lead for hardening bullets, in addition to that required for the artificial horizon; the effect of this metal is far greater than a mixture of tin, as the specific gravity of the bullet is increased.
Throughout a long experience in wild sports, although I admire the velocity of conical projectiles, I always have retained my opinion that, in jungle countries, where in the absence of dogs you require either to disable your game on the spot, or to produce a distinct blood-track that is easily followed, the old-fashioned two-groove belted ball will bag more game than modern bullets; but, on the other hand, the facility of loading a conical bullet already formed into a cartridge is a great advantage. The shock produced by a pointed projectile is nothing compared to that of the old belted ball, unless it is on the principle of Purday's high velocity expanding bullet, which, although perfection for deer-shooting, would be useless against thick-skinned animals, such as buffalo and rhinoceros. In Africa, the variety of game is such, that it is impossible to tell, when loading, at what animal the bullet will be fired; therefore, it is necessary to be armed with a rifle suitable for all comers. My little Fletcher was the Enfield bore, No. 24, and, although a most trusty weapon, the bullets generally failed to penetrate the skull of hippopotami, except in places where the bone was thin, such as behind the ear, and beneath the eyes. Although I killed great numbers of animals with the Enfield bullet, the success was due to tolerably correct shooting, as I generally lost the larger antelopes if wounded by that projectile in any place but the neck, head, or shoulder; the wound did not bleed freely, therefore it was next to impossible to follow up the blood-track; thus a large proportion of wounded animals escaped.
I saw, and shot, thirteen varieties of antelopes while in Africa. Upon arrival at Khartoum, I met Herr von Heuglin, who commanded the expedition in search of Dr. Vogel; he was an industrious naturalist, who had been many years in the Soudan and in Abyssinia. We compared notes of all we had seen and done, and he very kindly supplied me with a list of all the antelopes that he had been able to trace as existing in Abyssinia and the Soudan; he now included my maarif, which he had never met with, and which he agreed was a new species. In the following list, which is an exact copy of that which he had arranged, those marked with an asterisk are species that I have myself shot:—
Catalogue des especes du genre "ANTILOPE," observees en Egypte, dans la Nubie, au Soudan orientale et en Abissinie.
A.—GAZELLA, Blains.
1.—Spec. G. Dorcas.* Arab. Ghasal.
2.—G. Arabica,* Ehr. A la cote de la Mer rouge.
3.—G. Loevipes, Sund. Arab. Abou Horabet? Nubie, Taka, Sennaar, Kordofan.
4.—G. spec. (?) en Tigreh Choquen (Bogos).
5.—G. Dama,* Licht. Arab. Adra, Ledra. Riel, Bajouda, Berber, Sennaar, Kordofan.
6.—G. Soemmeringii, Rupp. Arab. Om Oreba. Tigreh, Arab. Taka, Massowa, Gedaref, Berber, Sennaar.
7.—G. Leptoceros. Arab. Abou Harab. Gazelle a longues cornes, minces et paralleles. Bajouda, Berber, Taka, Sennaar, Kordofan.
B.—CALOTRAGUS, Luad.
8.—C. montanus,* Rupp. Arab. Otrab and El Mor. Amhar, Fiego, Sennaar, Abissinie, Taka, Galabat.
9.—C. Saltatrix, Forst. Amhar. Sasa. Abissinie.
C.—NANOTRAGUS, Wagn.
10.—N. Hemprichianus, Ehr. Arab. Om dig dig. Abissinie orientale et occidentale, Taka, Kordofan.
D.—CEPHALOLOPHUS, H. Smith.
11.—C. Madaqua. Amhar. Midakoua. Galabat, Barka, Abissinie.
12, 13.—Deux especes inconnues du Fleuve blanc, nominees par les Djenkes, "Amok."
14.—R. Eleotragus, Schrb. Djenke, Bor. Bahr el Abiad.
15.—R. Behor, Rupp. Amhar. Behor. Abissinie centrale, Kordofan.
16.—R. Kull, nov. spec. Djenke, Koul. Bahr el Abiad.
17.—R. leucotis, Peters et Licht. Djenke, Adjel. Bahr el Abiad, Saubat.
18.—R. Wuil, nov. spec. Djenke, Ouil. Bahr el Abiad, Saubat.
19.—R. Lechee,* Gray. Bahr el Abiad.
20.—R. megcerosa,* Heuglin. Kobus Maria, Gray. Djenke, Abok, Saubat, Bahr el Abiad et Bahr Ghazal.
21.—R. Defassa,* Rupp. Arab. Om Hetehet. Amhar. Dofasa. Djenke, Bor. Bahr el Salame, Galabat, Kordofan, Bahr el Abiad, Dender, Abissinie occidentale et centrale.
22.—R. ellipsiprymna, Ogilby. Djenke, Bor. Bahr el Abiad.
F.—HIPPOTRAGUS, Sund.
23.—H. niger, Harris. Arab. Abou Maarif. Kordofan meridionale, fleuve Blanc (Chilouk).
24.—H. nov. spec. Arab. Abou Maarif.*—Bakerii.* Bahr el Salaam, Galabat Dender, fleuve BIeu, Sennaar meridionale.
25.—H. Beisa, Rupp. Arab. Beisa et Damma. Souakim, Massowa, Danakil, Somauli, Kordofan.
26.—H. ensicornis, Ehr. Arab. Ouahoh el bagr. Nubie, Berber, Kordofan.
27.—H. Addax, Licht. Arab. Akach. Bajouda, Egypte occidentale (Oasis de Siouah).
G.—TAUROTRAGUS, Wagn.
28.—T. Orcas, Pall. (Antilope Canna). Djenke, Goualgonal. Bahr el Abiad.
29.—T. gigas, nov. spec. Chez les pleuplades Atoats, au Bahr el Abiad.
H.—TRAGELAPHUS, Blains.
30.—Tr. strepsiceros (Pallas). Arab. Nellet, Miremreh. Tigreh, Garona. Ambar. Agazen. Abissinie, Sennaar, Homran, Galabat, Kordofan.
31.—Tr. sylvaticus, Spaerm. Bahr el Abiad.
32.—Tr. Dekula, Rupp. Amhar. Dekoula. Arab. Houch. Djenke, Ber. Taka, Abissinie, Bahr el Abiad.
33.—B. Mauritanica, Sund. (Antilope Bubalis, Cuvier). Arab. Tetel; Tigreh, Tori. Taka, Homran, Barka, Galabat, Kordofan, Bahr el Abiad.
34.—B. Caama, Cuv. Arab. Tetel. Djenke, Awalwon. Bahr el Abiad, Kordofan meridionale.
35.—B. Senegalensis, H. Smith. Bahr el Abiad.
36.—B. Tiang, nov. spec. Djenke, Tian. Bahr el Abiad, Bahr Ghazal.
37.—B. Tian-riel, nov. spec. Bahr el Abiad.
"Soada," au Oualkait et Mareb (Taurotragus?).
"Uorobo," au Godjam, Agow (Hippotragus).
"Ouoadembi." March, Oualkait (Hippotragus).
"El Mor." Sennaar, Fazogle (Nanotragus?).
"El Khondieh." Kordofan (Redunca?).
"Om Khat." Kordofan (Gazella?).
"El Hamra." Kordofan, Bajouda (Gazella?).
FOR some days we continued our journey along the banks of the Dinder, and as the monotonous river turned towards the junction with the Blue Nile, a few miles distant, we made a direct cut across the flat country, to cross the Rahad and arrive at Abou Harraz on the Blue Nile. We passed numerous villages and extensive plantations of dhurra that were deserted by the Arabs, as the soldiers had arrived to collect the taxes. I measured the depths of the wells, seventy-five feet and a half, from the surface to the bottom; the alluvial soil appeared to continue the whole distance, until the water was discovered resting upon hard sand, full of small particles of mica. During the march over a portion of the country that had been cleared by burning, we met a remarkably curious hunting-party. A number of the common black and white stork were hunting for grasshoppers and other insects, but mounted upon the back of each stork was a large copper-coloured flycatcher, which, perched like a rider on his horse, kept a bright look-out for insects, which from its elevated position it could easily discover upon the ground. I watched them for some time: whenever the storks perceived a grasshopper or other winged insect, they chased it on foot, but if they missed their game, the flycatchers darted from their backs and flew after the insects like falcons, catching them in their beaks, and then returning to their steeds to look out for another opportunity.
On the evening of the 23d May we arrived at the Rahad close to its junction with the Blue Nile: it was still dry, although the Dinder was rising. I accounted for this, from the fact of the extreme length of the Rahad's bed, which, from its extraordinary tortuous course, must absorb a vast amount of water in the dry sand, before the advancing stream can reach the Nile. Both the Rahad and Dinder rise in the mountains of Abyssinia, at no great distance from each other, and during the rains they convey a large volume of water to the Blue Nile. Upon arrival at Abou Harraz, four miles to the north of the Rahad junction, we had marched, by careful dead reckoning, two hundred and eighty miles from Gallabat. We were now about a hundred and fifteen miles from Khartoum, and we stood upon the banks of the magnificent Blue Nile, the last of the Abyssinian affluents.
About six miles above this spot, on the south bank of the river, is the large town of Wat Medene, which is the principal trading-place upon the river. Abou Harraz was a miserable spot, and was only important as the turning point upon the road to Katariff from Khartoum. The entire country upon both sides of the river is one vast unbroken level of rich soil, wlich on the north and east sides is bounded by the Atbara. The entire surface of this fertile country might be cultivated with cotton. All that is required to insure productiveness, is a regular supply of water, which might be artificially arranged without much difficulty. The character of all the Abyssinian rivers is to rise and fall suddenly; thus at one season there is an abundance of water, to be followed by a scarcity: but in all the fertile provinces adjacent to the Settite and the upper portion of the Atbara, the periodical rains can be absolutely depended upon, from June to the middle of September; thus, they are peculiarly adapted for cotton, as a dry season is insured for gathering the crop. As we advance to the north, and reach Abou Harraz, we leave the rainy zone. When we had left Gallabat, the grass had sprung several inches, owing to the recent showers; but as we had proceeded rapidly towards the north, we had entered upon vast dusty plains devoid of a green blade; the rainy season between Abou Harraz and Khartoum consisted of mere occasional storms, that, descending with great violence, quickly passed away. Nothing would be more simple than to form a succession of weirs across the Rahad and Dinder, that would enable the entire country to be irrigated at any season of the year, but there is not an engineering work of any description throughout Upper Egypt, beyond the sageer or water-wheel of the Nile. Opposite Abou Harraz, the Blue Nile was a grand river, about five hundred yards in width; the banks upon the north side were the usual perpendicular cliffs of alluvial soil, but perfectly bare of trees; while, on the south, the banks were ornamented with nabbuk bushes and beautiful palms. The latter are a peculiar species known by the Arabs as "dolape" (Borassus AEthiopicus): the stem is long, and of considerable thickness, but in about the centre of its length it swells to nearly half its diameter in excess, and after a few feet of extra thickness it continues its original size to the summit, which is crowned by a handsome crest of leaves shaped like those of the palmyra. The fruit of this palm is about the size of a cocoa-nut, and when ripe it is of a bright yellow, with an exceedingly rich perfume of apricots; it is very stringy, and, although eaten by the natives, it is beyond the teeth of a European. The Arabs cut it into slices, and boil it with water until they obtain a strong syrup. Subsequently I found this palm in great quantities near the equator.
At Abou Harraz I discharged my camels, and endeavoured to engage a boat to convey us to Khartoum, thus to avoid the dusty and uninteresting ride of upwards of a hundred miles along its flat and melancholy banks; but there was not a vessel of any kind to be seen upon the river, except one miserable, dirty affair, for which the owner demanded fourteen hundred piastres for a passage. We accordingly procured camels, and started, intending to march as rapidly as possible.
"June 2, 1862.—We packed the camels in the morning and started them off to Rufaar. We followed at 2.30 P.M. as the natives declared it was half a day's journey; but we did not arrive until 8.30 P.M. having marched about twenty-one miles. The town is considerable, and is the head-quarters of our old friend, the great Sheik Achmet Abou Sinn; he is now absent, but his son Ali is at home. He received us very kindly, and lodged us in his own house within a large inclosed court, with a well of good water in the centre. Having read my firman, be paid us the usual compliments, but he lacked the calm dignity and ease of manner of his grand old father. He sat stiffly upon the divan, occasionally relieving the monotony of his position by lifting up the cover of the cushions, and spitting beneath it. Not having a handkerchief, but only the limited natural advantages of a finger and thumb, a cold in the head gave him much trouble, and unpleasant marks upon the wall exhibited hieroglyphics of recent date, that were ill adapted to the reception-room of an Arab chieftain. In about an hour he departed, and shortly after, a dinner of four dishes was brought. No. 1 was an Arab Irish stew, but alas! MINUS the potatoes; it was very good, nevertheless, as the mutton was fat. No. 2 was an Arab stew, with no Irish element; it was very hot with red pepper, and rather dry. No. 3 was a good quick fry of small pieces of mutton in butter and garlic (very good); and No. 4 was an excellent dish of the usual melach, already described.
The wind had within the last few days changed to south, and we had been subjected to dust storms and sudden whirlwinds similar to those we had experienced at this season in the preceding year, when about to start from Berber. We left Rufaar, and continued our march along the banks of the Blue Nile, towards Khartoum. It was intensely hot; whenever we felt a breeze it was accompanied with a suffocating dust, but the sight of the broad river was cool and refreshing. During the dry season the water of the Blue Nile is clear, as its broad surface reflects the colour of the blue sky; hence the appellation, but at that time it was extremely shallow, and in many places it is fordable at a depth of about three feet, which renders it unnavigable for large boats, which, laden with corn, supply Khartoum from the fertile provinces of the south. The river had now begun to rise, although it was still low, and the water was muddy, as the swelling torrents of Abyssinia brought impurities into the main channel. It was at this same time last year, when at Berber, that we had noticed the sudden increase and equally sudden fall of the Nile, that was influenced by the fluctuations of the Blue Nile, at a time when the Atbara was dry.
From Abou Harraz throughout the route to Khartoum there is no object of interest; it is the same vast flat, decreasing rapidly in fertility until it mingles with the desert; and once more, as we journey to the north, we leave the fertile lands behind, and enter upon sterility. The glare of barren plains and the heat of the summer's sun were fearful. Bacheet had a slight coup de soleil; my Tokrooris, whose woolly heads were shaved, and simply covered with a thin skull-cap, suffered severely, as we marched throughout the burning hours of the day. The Arabs were generally very inhospitable, as this was the route frequented by all native merchants, where strangers were of daily occurrence; but towards evening we arrived at a village inhabited by a large body of Fakeers, or priests. As we entered, we were met by the principal Faky, who received us with marked attention, and with a charming courtesy of manner that quite won our hearts; he expressed himself as delighted at our arrival, hoped we were not fatigued by the heat, and trusted that we would rest for a few minutes before we departed to the enchanting village "just beyond those trees," as he pointed to a clump of green nabbuk on the yellow plain, about a mile distant; there, he assured us, we could obtain all kinds of supplies, together with shade, and a lovely view of the river. We were delighted with this very gentlemanly Faky, and, saying adieu with regret, we hurried on to the promised village "just beyond those trees."
For fourteen miles we travelled, hungry and tired, beyond the alluring clump of trees, along the wild desert of hot sand without a habitation; the only portion of truth in the Faky's description was the "lovely view of the river," that certainly accompanied us throughout our journey. We were regularly "sold" by the cunning Faky, who, not wishing to be incommoded by our party, had got rid of us in a most gentlemanly manner. At length we arrived at a village, where we had much difficulty in procuring provisions for ourselves and people.
On the 11th June, having slept at the village of Abou Dome, we started at sunrise, and at 9 A.M. we reached the bank of the river, opposite to Khartoum. We were delighted with the view, as the morning sun shone upon the capital of the Soudan provinces; the grove of date trees shaded the numerous buildings, their dark green foliage contrasting exquisitely with the many coloured houses on the extreme margin of the beautiful river; long lines of vessels and masts gave life to the scene, and we felt that once more, after twelve months of utterly wild life, we had arrived in civilization. We had outridden our camels, therefore we rode through a shallow arm of the river, and arrived upon an extensive sandbank that had been converted into a garden of melons; from this point a large ferry-boat plied regularly to the town on the south bank. In a few minutes we found ourselves on board, with our sole remaining horse, Tetel, also the donkeys that we had purchased in Berber before our expedition, and our attendants. As we gained the centre of the river, that was about 800 yards broad, we were greeted by the snort of three of our old friends, the hippopotami, who had been attracted to the neighbourhood by the garden of water-melons. We landed at Khartoum, and, having climbed up the steep bank, we inquired the way to the British Consulate.
The difference between the view of Khartoum at the distance of a mile, with the sun shining upon the bright river Nile in the foreground, to the appearance of the town upon close inspection, was about equal to the scenery of a theatre as regarded from the boxes or from the stage; even that painful exposure of an optical illusion would be trifling compared with the imposture of Khartoum; the sense of sight had been deceived by distance, but the sense of smell was outraged by innumerable nuisances, when we set foot within the filthy and miserable town. After winding through some narrow dusty lanes, hemmed in by high walls of sun-baked bricks, that had fallen in gaps in several places, exposing gardens of prickly pears and date palms, we at length arrived at a large open place, that, if possible, smelt more strongly than the landing spot. Around this square, which was full of holes where the mud had been excavated for brickmaking, were the better class of houses; this was the Belgravia of Khartoum. In the centre of a long mud wall, ventilated by certain attempts at frameless windows, guarded by rough wooden bars, we perceived a large archway with closed doors; above this entrance was a shield, with a device that gladdened my English eyes: there was the British lion and the unicorn! Not such a lion as I had been accustomed to meet in his native jungles, a yellow cowardly fellow, that had often slunk away from the very prey from which I had driven him, but a real red British lion, that, although thin and ragged in the unhealthy climate of Khartoum, looked as though he was pluck to the backbone.
This was the English Consulate. I regarded our lion and unicorn for a few moments with feelings of veneration; and as Mr. Petherick, the consul, who was then absent on the White Nile in search of Speke and Grant, had very kindly begged me to occupy some rooms in the Consulate, we entered a large courtyard, and were immediately received by two ostriches that came to meet us; these birds entertained us by an impromptu race as hard as they could go round the courtyard, as though performing in a circus. When this little divertissement was finished, we turned to the right, and were shown by a servant up a flight of steps into a large airy room that was to be our residence, which, being well protected from the sun, was cool and agreeable. Mr. Petherick had started from Khartoum in the preceding March, and had expected to meet Speke and Grant in the upper portion of the Nile regions, on their road from Zanzibar; but there are insurmountable difficulties in those wild countries, and his expedition met with unforeseen accidents, that, in spite of the exertions of both himself, his very devoted wife, Dr. Murie, and two or three Europeans, drove them from their intended path. Shortly after our arrival at the Consulate, a vessel returned from his party with unfavourable accounts; they had started too late in the season, owing to some difficulties in procuring boats, and the change of wind to the south, with violent rain, had caused great suffering, and had retarded their progress. This same boat had brought two leopards that were to be sent to England: these animals were led into the courtyard, and, having been secured by chains, they formed a valuable addition to the menagerie, which consisted of two wild boars, two leopards, one hyaena, two ostriches, and a cynocephalus or dog-faced baboon, who won my heart by taking an especial fancy to me, because I had a beard like his master.
Although I take a great interest in wild animals, I confess to have an objection to sleep in the Zoological Gardens should all the wild beasts be turned loose. I do not believe that even the Secretary of that learned Society would volunteer to sleep with the lions; but as the leopards at the Khartoum Consulate constantly broke their chains, and attacked the dogs and a cow, and as the hyaena occasionally got loose, and the wild boars destroyed their mud wall, and nearly killed one of my Tokrooris during the night, by carving him like a scored leg of pork with their tusks, the fact of sleeping in the open air in the verandah, with the simple protection of a mosquito-netting, was full of pleasant excitement, and was a piquante entertainment that prevented a reaction of ennui after twelve months passed in constant watchfulness. The shield over the Consulate door, with the lion and the unicorn, was but a sign of the life within; as the grand picture outside the showman's wagon may exemplify the nature of his exhibition. I enjoyed myself extremely with these creatures, especially when the ostriches invited themselves to tea, and swallowed our slices of water-melons and the greater portion of the bread from the table a few moments before we were seated. These birds appeared to enjoy life amazingly; one kind of food was as sweet as another; they attacked a basket of white porcelain beads that had been returned by Mr. Petherick's men, and swallowed them in great numbers in mistake for dhurra, until they were driven off; they were the scavengers of the courtyard, that consumed the dung of the camels and horses, together with all other impurities.
For some months we resided at Khartoum, as it was necessary to make extensive preparations for the White Nile expedition, and to await the arrival of the north wind, which would enable us to start early in December. Although the north and south winds blow alternately for six months, and the former commences in October, it does not extend many degrees southward until the beginning of December. This is a great drawback to White Nile exploration, as when near the north side of the equator, the dry season commences in November, and closes in February; thus, the departure from Khartoum should take place by a steamer in the latter part of September; that would enable the traveller to leave Gondokoro, lat. N. 4 degrees 54 minutes, shortly before November; he would then secure three months of favourable weather for an advance inland.
Having promised Mek Nimmur that I would lay his proposals for peace before the Governor-General of the Soudan, I called upon Moosa Pasha at the public divan, and delivered the message; but he would not listen to any intercession, as he assured me that Mek Nimmur was incorrigible, and there would be no real peace until his death, which would be very speedy should he chance to fall into his hands. He expressed great surprise at our having escaped from his territory, and he declared his intention of attacking him after he should have given the Abyssinians a lesson, for whom he was preparing an expedition in reply to an insolent letter that he had received from King Theodore. The King of Abyssinia had written to him upon a question of frontier. The substance of the document was a declaration that the Egyptians had no right to Khartoum, and that the natural boundary of Abyssinia was the junction of the Blue and White Niles as far north as Shendy (Mek Nimmur's original country); and from that point, in a direct line, to the Atbara; but that, as the desert afforded no landmark, he should send his people to dig a ditch from the Nile to the Atbara, and he requested that the Egyptians would keep upon the north border. Moosa Pasha declared that the king was mad, and that, were it not for the protection given to Abyssinia by the English, the Egyptians would have eaten it up long ago, but that the Christian powers would certainly interfere should they attempt to annex the country.
The Egyptians seldom had less than twenty thousand troops in the Soudan provinces; the principal stations were Khartoum, Cassala, and Dongola. Cassala was close to the Abyssinian frontier, and within from fifteen to twenty days' march of Souakim, on the Red Sea, to which reinforcements could be despatched in five days from Cairo. Khartoum had the advantage of the Blue Nile, that was navigable for steamers and sailing vessels as far south as Fazogle, from which spot, as well as from Gallabat, Abyssinia could be invaded; while swarms of Arabs, including the celebrated Hamrans, the Beni Amer, Hallongas, Hadendowas, Shookeriahs, and Dabainas, could be slipped like greyhounds across the frontier. Abyssinia is entirely at the mercy of Egypt.
Moosa Pasha subsequently started with several thousand men to drive the Abyssinians from Gallabat, which position they had occupied in force with the avowed intention of marching upon Khartoum; but upon the approach of the Egyptians they fell back rapidly across the mountains, without a sign of showing fight. The Egyptians would not follow them, as they feared the intervention of the European powers.
Upon our first arrival in Khartoum, from 11th June until early in October, the heat was very oppressive, the thermometer seldom below 95 degrees Fahr. in the shade, and frequently 100 degrees, while the nights were 82 degrees Fahr. In the winter, the temperature was agreeable, the shade 80 degrees, the night 62 degrees Fahr. But the chilliness of the north wind was exceedingly dangerous, as the sudden gusts checked the perspiration, and produced various maladies, more especially fever. I had been extremely fortunate, as, although exposed to hard work for more than a year in the burning sun, I had remarkably good health, as had my wife likewise, with the exception of one severe attack while at Sofi. Throughout the countries we had visited, the temperature was high, averaging about 90 degrees in the shade from May until the end of September; but the nights were generally about 70 degrees, with the exception of the winter months, from November until February, when the thermometer generally fell to 85 degrees Fahr. in the day, and sometimes as low as 58 degrees at between 2 and 5 A.M.
I shall not repeat a minute description of Khartoum that has already been given in the "Albert N'yanza;" it is a wretchedly unhealthy town, containing about thirty thousand inhabitants, exclusive of troops. In spite of its unhealthiness and low situation, on a level with the river at the junction of the Blue and White Niles, it is the general emporium for the trade of the Soudan, from which the productions of the country are transported to Lower Egypt, i.e. ivory, hides, senna, gum arabic, and bees'-wax. During my experience of Khartoum it was the hotbed of the slave-trade. It will be remarked that the exports from the Soudan are all natural productions. There is nothing to exhibit the industry or capacity of the natives; the ivory is the produce of violence and robbery; the hides are the simple sun-dried skins of oxen; the senna grows wild upon the desert; the gum arabic exudes spontaneously from the bushes of the jungle; and the bees'-wax is the produce of the only industrious creatures in that detestable country.
When we regard the general aspect of the Soudan, it is extreme wretchedness; the rainfall is uncertain and scanty, thus the country is a desert, dependent entirely upon irrigation. Although cultivation is simply impossible without a supply of water, one of the most onerous taxes is that upon the sageer or water-wheel, with which the fields are irrigated on the borders of the Nile. It would appear natural that, instead of a tax, a premium should be offered for the erection of such means of irrigation, which would increase the revenue by extending cultivation, the produce of which might bear an impost. With all the talent and industry of the native Egyptians, who must naturally depend upon the waters of the Nile for their existence, it is extraordinary that for thousands of years they have adhered to their original simple form of mechanical irrigation, without improvement.
If any one will take the trouble to watch the action of the sageer or water-wheel, it must strike him as a most puny effort to obtain a great result, that would at once suggest an extension of the principle. The sageer is merely a wheel of about twenty feet diameter, which is furnished with numerous earthenware jars upon its exterior circumference, that upon revolving perform the action of a dredger, but draw to the surface water instead of mud. The wheel, being turned by oxen, delivers the water into a trough which passes into a reservoir, roughly fashioned with clay, from which, small channels of about ten inches in width radiate through the plantation. The fields, divided into squares like a chess-board, are thus irrigated by a succession of minute aqueducts. The root of this principle is the reservoir. A certain steady volume of water is required, from which the arteries shall flow throughout a large area of dry ground; thus, the reservoir insures a regular supply to each separate channel.
In any civilized country, the existence of which depended upon the artificial supply of water in the absence of rain, the first engineering principle would suggest a saving of labour in irrigation: that, instead of raising the water in small quantities into reservoirs, the river should raise its own waters to the required level.
Having visited every tributary of the Nile during the explorations of nearly five years, I have been struck with the extraordinary fact that, although an enormous amount of wealth is conveyed to Egypt by the annual inundations of the river, the force of the stream is entirely uncontrolled. From time immemorial, the rise of the Nile has been watched with intense interest at the usual season, but no attempt has been made to insure a supply of water to Egypt during all seasons.
The mystery of the Nile has been dispelled; we have proved that the equatorial lakes supply the main stream, but that the inundations are caused by the sudden rush of waters from the torrents of Abyssinia in July, August, and September; and that the soil washed down by the floods of the Atbara is at the present moment silting up the mouths of the Nile, and thus slowly, but steadily, forming a delta beneath the waters of the Mediterranean, on the same principle that created the fertile Delta of Egypt. Both the water and the mud of the Nile have duties to perform,—the water to irrigate; the deposit to fertilize; but these duties are not regularly performed: sometimes the rush of the inundation is overwhelming, at others it is insufficient; while at all times an immense proportion of the fertilizing mud is not only wasted by a deposit beneath the sea, but navigation is impeded by the silt. The Nile is a powerful horse without harness, but, with a bridle in its mouth, the fertility of Egypt might be increased to a vast extent.
As the supply of water raised by the sageer is received in a reservoir, from which the irrigating channels radiate through the plantations, so should great reservoirs be formed throughout the varying levels of Egypt, from Khartoum to the Mediterranean, comprising a distance of sixteen degrees of latitude, with a fall of fifteen hundred feet. The advantage of this great difference in altitude between the Nile in latitude 15 degrees 30 minutes and the sea, would enable any amount of irrigation, by the establishment of a series of dams or weirs across the Nile, that would raise its level to the required degree, at certain points, from which the water would be led by canals into natural depressions; these would form reservoirs, from which the water might be led upon a vast scale, in a similar manner to the insignificant mud basins that at the present day form the reservoirs for the feeble water-wheels. The increase of the river's level would depend upon the height of the dams; but, as stone is plentiful throughout the Nile, the engineering difficulties would be trifling.
Mehemet Ali Pasha acknowledged the principle, by the erection of the barrage between Cairo and Alexandria, which, by simply raising the level of the river, enabled the people to extend their channels for irrigation; but this was the crude idea, that has not been carried out upon a scale commensurate with the requirements of Egypt. The ancient Egyptians made use of the lake Mareotis as a reservoir for the Nile waters for the irrigation of a large extent of Lower Egypt, by taking advantage of a high Nile to secure a supply for the remainder of the year; but, great as were the works of those industrious people, they appear to have ignored the first principle of irrigation, by neglecting to raise the level of the river.
Egypt remains in the same position that Nature originally allotted to her; the life-giving stream that flows through a thousand miles of burning sands suddenly rises in July, and floods the Delta which it has formed by a deposit, during perhaps hundreds of thousands of inundations; and it wastes a superabundance of fertilizing mud in the waters of the Mediterranean. As Nature has thus formed, and is still forming a delta, why should not Science create a delta, with the powerful means at our disposal? Why should not the mud of the Nile that now silts up the Mediterranean be directed to the barren but vast area of deserts, that by such a deposit would become a fertile portion of Egypt? This work might be accomplished by simple means: the waters of the Nile, that now rush impetuously at certain seasons with overwhelming violence, while at other seasons they are exhausted, might be so controlled that they should never be in excess, neither would they be reduced to a minimum in the dry season; but the enormous volume of water heavily charged with soil, that now rushes uselessly into the sea, might be led throughout the deserts of Nubia and Libya, to transform them into cotton fields that would render England independent of America. There is no fiction in this idea; it is merely the simple and commonplace fact, that with a fall of fifteen hundred feet in a thousand miles, with a river that supplies an unlimited quantity of water and mud at a particular season, a supply could be afforded to a prodigious area, that would be fertilized not only by irrigation, but by the annual deposit of soil from the water, allowed to remain upon the surface. This suggestion might be carried out by gradations; the great work might be commenced by a single dam above the first cataract at Assouan, at a spot where the river is walled in by granite hills; at that place, the water could be raised to an exceedingly high level, that would command an immense tract of country. As the system became developed, similar dams might be constructed at convenient intervals that would not only bring into cultivation the neighbouring deserts, but would facilitate the navigation of the river, that is now impeded, and frequently closed, by the numerous cataracts. By raising the level of the Nile sixty feet at every dam, the cataracts would no longer exist, as the rocks which at present form the obstructions would be buried in the depths of the river. At the positions of the several dams, sluice gates and canals would conduct the shipping either up or down the stream. Were this principle carried out as far as the last cataracts, near Khartoum, the Soudan would no longer remain a desert; the Nile would become not only the cultivator of those immense tracts that are now utterly worthless, but it would be the navigable channel of Egypt for the extraordinary distance of twenty-seven degrees of latitude—direct from the Mediterranean to Gondokoro, N. lat. 4 degrees 54 minutes.
The benefits, not only to Egypt, but to civilization, would be incalculable; those remote countries in the interior of Africa are so difficult of access, that, although we cling to the hope that at some future time the inhabitants may become enlightened, it will be simply impossible to alter their present condition, unless we change the natural conditions under which they exist. From a combination of adverse circumstances, they are excluded from the civilized world: the geographical position of those desert-locked and remote countries shuts them out from personal communication with strangers: the hardy explorer and the missionary creep through the difficulties of distance in their onward paths, but seldom return: the European merchant is rarely seen, and trade resolves itself into robbery and piracy upon the White Nile, and other countries, where distance and difficulty of access have excluded all laws and political surveillance. Nevertheless, throughout that desert, and neglected wilderness, the Nile has flowed for ages, and the people upon its banks are as wild and uncivilized at the present day as they were when the Pyramids were raised in Lower Egypt. The Nile is a blessing only half appreciated; the time will arrive when people will look in amazement upon a mighty Egypt, whose waving crops shall extend, far beyond the horizon, upon those sandy and thirsty deserts where only the camel can contend with exhausted nature. Men will look down from some lofty point upon a network of canals and reservoirs, spreading throughout a land teeming with fertility, and wonder how it was that, for so many ages, the majesty of the Nile had been concealed. Not only the sources of that wonderful river had been a mystery from the earliest history of the world, but the resources and the power of the mighty Nile are still mysterious and misunderstood.
In all rainless countries, artificial irrigation is the first law of nature, it is self-preservation; but, even in countries where the rainfall can be depended upon with tolerable certainty, irrigation should never be neglected; one dry season in a tropical country may produce a famine, the results of which may be terrible, as instanced lately by the unfortunate calamity in Orissa. The remains of the beautiful system of artificial irrigation that was employed by the ancients in Ceylon, attest the degree of civilization to which they had attained; in that island the waters of various rivers were conducted into valleys that were converted into lakes, by dams of solid masonry that closed the extremity, from which the water was conducted by artificial channels throughout the land. In those days, Ceylon was the most fertile country of the East; her power equalled her prosperity; vast cities teeming with a dense population stood upon the borders of the great reservoirs, and the people revelled in wealth and plenty. The dams were destroyed in civil warfare; the wonderful works of irrigation shared in the destruction; the country dried up; famine swallowed up the population; and the grandeur and prosperity of that extraordinary country collapsed and withered in the scorching sun, when the supply of water was withdrawn.
At the present moment, ten thousand square miles lie desolate in thorny jungles, where formerly a sea of waving rice-crops floated on the surface; the people are dead, the glory is departed. This glory had been the fruit of irrigation. All this prosperity might be restored: but in Egypt there has been no annihilation of a people, and the Nile invites a renewal of the system formerly adopted in Ceylon; there is an industrious population crowded upon a limited space of fertile soil, and yearning for an increase of surface. At the commencement of this work, we saw the Egyptians boating the earth from the crumbling ruins, and transporting it with arduous labour to spread upon the barren sandbanks of the Nile, left by the retreating river; they were striving for every foot of land thus offered by the exhausted waters, and turning into gardens what in other countries would have been unworthy of cultivation. Were a system of irrigation established upon the principle that I have proposed, the advantages would be enormous. The silt deposited in the Mediterranean, that now chokes the mouths of the Nile, and blocks up harbours, would be precipitated upon the broad area of newly-irrigated lands, and by the time that the water arrived at the sea, it would have been filtered in its passage, and have become incapable of forming a fresh deposit. The great difficulty of the Suez canal will be the silting up of the entrance by the Nile; this would be prevented were the mud deposited in the upper country.
During the civil war in America, Egypt proved her capabilities by producing a large amount of cotton of most excellent quality, that assisted us materially in the great dearth of that article; but, although large fortunes were realized by the extension of this branch of agriculture, the Egyptians suffered considerably in consequence. The area of fertile soil was too limited, and, as an unusual surface was devoted to the growth of cotton, there was a deficiency in the production of corn; and Egypt, instead of exporting as heretofore, was forced to import large quantities of grain. Were the area of Egypt increased to a vast extent by the proposed system of irrigation, there would be space sufficient for both grain and cotton to any amount required. The desert soil, that is now utterly worthless, would become of great value; and the taxes upon the increased produce would not only cover the first outlay of the irrigation works, but would increase the revenue in the ratio proportionate to the increased surface of fertility. A dam across the Atbara would irrigate the entire country from Gozerajup to Berber, a distance of upwards of 200 miles; and the same system upon the Nile would carry the waters throughout the deserts between Khartoum and Dongola, and from thence to Lower Egypt. The Nubian desert, from Korosko to Abou Hamed, would become a garden, the whole of that sterile country inclosed within the great western bend of the Nile towards Dongola would be embraced in the system of irrigation, and the barren sands that now give birth to the bitter melon of the desert (Cucumis colocynthis), would bring forth the water-melon, and heavy crops of grain.* The great Sahara is desert, simply because it receives no rainfall: give it only water, and the sand will combine with the richer soil beneath, and become productive. England would become a desert, could it be deprived of rain for three or four years; the vegetation would wither and be carried away by the wind, together with the lighter and more friable portions of the soil, which, reduced to dust, would leave the coarser and more sandy particles exposed upon the surface; but the renewal of rain would revivify the country. The deserts of Egypt have never known rain, except in the form of an unexpected shower, that has passed away as suddenly as it arrived; even that slight blessing awakens ever-ready Nature, and green things appear upon the yellow surface of the ground, that cause the traveller to wonder how their seeds could germinate after the exposure for so many months in the burning sand. Give water to these thirsty deserts, and they will reply with gratitude.
* The great deserts of Northern Africa, to about the 170 N. lat., are supposed to have formed the bottom of the Mediterranean, but to have been upheaved to their present level. The volcanic bombs discovered in the Nubian Desert suggest, by their spherical form, that the molten lava ejected by active volcanoes had fallen from a great height into water, that had rapidly cooled them, in the same manner that lead shot is manufactured at the present day. It is therefore highly probable that the extinct craters now in existence in the Nubian Desert were active at a period when they formed volcanic islands in a sea—similar to Stromboli, &c. &c.
This is the way to civilize a country: the engineer will alter the hard conditions of nature, that have rendered man as barren of good works as the sterile soil upon which he lives. Let man have hope; improve the present, that his mind may look forward to a future; give him a horse that will answer to the spur, if he is to run in the race of life; give him a soil that will yield and tempt him to industry; give him the means of communication with his fellow-men, that he may see his own inferiority by comparison; provide channels for the transport of his produce, and for the receipt of foreign manufactures, that will engender commerce: and then, when he has advanced so far in the scale of humanity, you may endeavour to teach him the principles of Christianity. Then, and not till then, can we hope for moral progress. We must begin with the development of the physical capabilities of a country before we can expect from its inhabitants sufficient mental vigour to receive and understand the truths of our religion. I have met with many Christian missionaries, of various and conflicting creeds, who have fruitlessly sown the seed of Christianity upon the barren soil of Africa; but their labours were ill-timed, they were too early in the field, the soil is unprepared; the missionary, however earnest, must wait until there be some foundation for a superstructure. Raise the level of the waters, and change the character of the surrounding deserts: this will also raise the intellectual condition of the inhabitants by an improvement in the natural conditions of their country. . . . . . .
The first portion of our task was completed. We had visited all the Nile tributaries of Abyssinia, including the great Blue Nile that had been traced to its source by Bruce. The difficult task still lay before us—to penetrate the unknown regions in the distant south, to discover the White Nile source.* Speke and Grant were on their road from Zanzibar, cutting their way upon untrodden ground towards Gondokoro. Petherick's expedition to assist them had met with misfortune, and we trusted to be able to reach the equator, and perhaps to meet our Zanzibar explorers somewhere about the sources of the Nile. Although we had worked hard throughout all seasons, over an immense extent of country, we were both strong and well, and the rest of some months at Khartoum had only served to inspire us with new vigour for the commencement of the work before us. By the 17th December, 1862, our preparations were completed; three vessels were laden with large quantities of stores—400 bushels of corn, twenty-nine transport animals, including camels, donkeys, and horses (among the latter was my old hunter Tetel). Ninety-six souls formed my whole party, including forty well-armed men, with Johann Schmidt and Richarn. On the 18th December we sailed from Khartoum upon the White Nile towards its unknown sources, and bade farewell to the last vestige of law, government, and civilization. I find in my journal, the last words written at our departure upon this uncertain task, "God grant us success; if He guides, I have no fear."
* The account of the White Nile voyage, with the happy meeting of captains Speke and Grant, and the subsequent discovery of the "Albert N'yanza," has been already given in the work of that title.