The bull-elephant--Daring Hamrans--The elephant helpless--Visited by
a minstrel--A determined musician--The nest of the outlaws--The Atbara
River
Having explored the Settite into the gorge of the mountain chain of
Abyssinia, we turned due south from our camp at Deladilla, and at a
distance of twelve miles reached the river Royan. Our course now was
directed up this stream, and at the junction of the Hor Mai Gubba, or
Habbuk River, some of my Arabs, observing fresh tracks of horses on the
sand, went in search of the aggageers of Taher Sherrif's party, whom
they had expected to meet at this point. Soon after, they returned with
the aggageers, whose camp was but a quarter of a mile distant. I agreed
to have a hunt for elephants the next day with Taher Sherrif, and before
the following sunrise we had started up the course of the Royan for a
favorite resort of elephants.
We had ridden about thirty miles, and were beginning to despair, when
suddenly we turned a sharp angle in the watercourse, and Taher Sherrif,
who was leading, immediately reined in his horse and backed him toward
the party. I followed his example, and we were at once concealed by
the sharp bend of the river. He now whispered that a bull-elephant was
drinking from a hole it had scooped in the sand, not far around the
corner. Without the slightest confusion the hunters at once fell quietly
into their respective places, Taher Sherrif leading, while I followed
closely in the line, with my Tokrooris bringing up the rear; we were a
party of seven horses.
Upon turning the corner we at once perceived the elephant, that was
still drinking. It was a fine bull. The enormous ears were thrown
forward, as the head was lowered in the act of drawing up the water
through the trunk. These shaded the eyes, and with the wind favorable we
advanced noiselessly upon the sand to within twenty yards before we
were perceived. The elephant then threw up its head, and with the ears
flapping forward it raised its trunk for an instant, and then slowly but
easily ascended the steep bank and retreated. The aggageers now halted
for about a minute to confer together, and then followed in their
original order up the crumbled bank. We were now on most unfavorable
ground; the fire that had cleared the country we had hitherto traversed
had been stopped by the bed of the torrent. We were thus plunged at once
into withered grass above our heads, unless we stood in the stirrups.
The ground was strewn with fragments of rock, and altogether it was
ill-adapted for riding.
However, Taher Sherrif broke into a trot, followed by the entire party,
as the elephant was not in sight. We ascended a hill, and when near
the summit we perceived the elephant about eighty yards ahead. It was
looking behind during its retreat, by swinging its huge head from
side to side, and upon seeing us approach it turned suddenly round and
halted.
"Be ready, and take care of the rocks!" said Taher Sherrif, as I rode
forward by his side. Hardly had he uttered these words of caution when
the bull gave a vicious jerk with its head, and with a shrill scream
charged down upon us with the greatest fury. Away we all went,
helter-skelter, through the dry grass, which whistled in my ears, over
the hidden rocks, at full gallop, with the elephant tearing after us
for about a hundred and eighty yards at a tremendous pace. Tetel was a
sure-footed horse, and being unshod he never slipped upon the stones.
Thus, as we all scattered in different directions, the elephant became
confused and relinquished the chase. It had been very near me at one
time, and in such ground I was not sorry when it gave up the hunt. We
now quickly united and again followed the elephant, that had once more
retreated. Advancing at a canter, we shortly came in view. Upon seeing
the horses the bull deliberately entered a stronghold composed of rocky
and uneven ground, in the clefts of which grew thinly a few leafless
trees of the thickness of a man's leg. It then turned boldly toward us,
and stood determinedly at bay.
Now came the tug of war! Taher Sherrif came close to me, and said, "You
had better shoot the elephant, as we shall have great difficulty in this
rocky ground." This I declined, as I wished the fight ended as it had
been commenced, with the sword; and I proposed that he should endeavor
to drive the animal to more favorable ground. "Never mind," replied
Taher, "Inshallah (please God) he shall not beat us." He now advised me
to keep as close to him as possible and to look sharp for a charge.
The elephant stood facing us like a statue; it did not move a muscle
beyond a quick and restless action of the eyes, that were watching all
sides. Taher Sherrif and his youngest brother, Ibrahim, now separated,
and each took opposite sides of the elephant, and then joined each other
about twenty yards behind it. I accompanied them, until Taher advised me
to keep about the same distance upon the left flank. My Tokrooris
kept apart from the scene, as they were not required. In front of the
elephant were two aggageers, one of whom was the renowned Roder Sherrif,
with the withered arm. All being ready for action, Roder now rode slowly
toward the head of the cunning old bull, who was quietly awaiting
an opportunity to make certain of some one who might give him a good
chance.
Roder Sherrif rode a bay mare that, having been thoroughly trained
to these encounters, was perfect at her work. Slowly and coolly she
advanced toward her wary antagonist until within about eight or nine
yards of the elephant's head. The creature never moved, and the mise en
scene was beautiful. Not a word was spoken, and we kept our places amid
utter stillness, which was at length broken by a snort from the mare,
who gazed intently at the elephant, as though watching for the moment of
attack.
One more pace forward, and Roder sat coolly upon his mare, with his eyes
fixed upon those of the elephant. For an instant I saw the white of the
eye nearest to me. "Look out, Roder, he's coming!" I exclaimed. With a
shrill scream the elephant dashed upon him like an avalanche.
Round went the mare as though upon a pivot, and away, over rocks and
stones, flying like a gazelle, with the monkey-like form of little
Roder Sherrif leaning forward, and looking over his left shoulder as the
elephant rushed after him.
For a moment I thought he must be caught. Had the mare stumbled, all
were lost; but she gained in the race after a few quick, bounding
strides, and Roder, still looking behind him, kept his distance so close
to the elephant that its outstretched trunk was within a few feet of the
mare's tail.
Taher Sherrif and his brother Ibrahim swept down like falcons in the
rear. In full speed they dexterously avoided the trees until they
arrived upon open ground, when they dashed up close to the hind-quarters
of the furious elephant, which, maddened with the excitement, heeded
nothing but Roder and his mare, that were almost within its grasp. When
close to the tail of the elephant Taher Sherrif's sword flashed from
its sheath, as grasping his trusty blade he leaped nimbly to the ground,
while Ibrahim caught the reins of his horse. Two or three bounds on
foot, with the sword clutched in both hands, and he was close behind the
elephant. A bright glance shone like lightning as the sun struck upon
the descending steel; this was followed by a dull crack, as the sword
cut through skin and sinews, and settled deep in the bone, about twelve
inches above the foot. At the next stride the elephant halted dead short
in the midst of its tremendous charge. Taher had jumped quickly on one
side, and had vaulted into the saddle with his naked sword in hand. At
the same moment Roder, who had led the chase, turned sharp round, and
again faced the elephant as before. Stooping quickly from the saddle,
he picked up from the ground a handful of dirt, which he threw into the
face of the vicious-looking animal, that once more attempted to rush
upon him. It was impossible! The foot was dislocated, and turned up in
front like an old shoe. In an instant Taher was once more on foot, and
the sharp sword slashed the remaining leg.
The great bull-elephant could not move! The first cut with the sword had
utterly disabled it; the second was its deathblow. The arteries of
the leg were divided, and the blood spouted in jets from the wounds.
I wished to terminate its misery by a bullet behind the ear, but Taher
Sherrif begged me not to fire, as the elephant would quickly bleed to
death without pain, and an unnecessary shot might attract the Base, who
would steal the flesh and ivory during our absence. We were obliged to
return immediately to our far distant camp, and the hunters resolved to
accompany their camels to the spot on the following day. We turned our
horses' heads, and rode directly toward home, which we did not reach
until nearly midnight, having ridden upward of sixty miles during the
day.
The hunting of Taher Sherrif and his brothers was superlatively
beautiful; with an immense amount of dash there was a cool,
sportsman-like manner in their mode of attack that far excelled the
impetuous and reckless onset of Abou Do. It was difficult to decide
which to admire the more, the coolness and courage of him who led the
elephant, or the extraordinary skill and activity of the aggahr who
dealt the fatal blow.
After hunting and exploring for some days in this neighborhood, I
determined to follow the bed of the Royan to its junction with the
Settite. We started at daybreak, and after a long march along the sandy
bed, hemmed in by high banks or by precipitous cliffs of sandstone, we
arrived at the junction.
Having explored the entire country and enjoyed myself thoroughly, I
was now determined to pay our promised visit to Mek Nimmur. Since our
departure from the Egyptian territory his country had been invaded by a
large force, according to orders sent from the Governor-General of the
Soudan. Mek Nimmur as usual retreated to the mountains, but Mai Gubba
and a number of his villages were utterly destroyed by the Egyptians. He
would under these circumstances be doubly suspicious of strangers.
We were fortunate, however, in unexpectedly meeting a party of Mek
Nimmur's followers on a foray, who consented to guide us to his
encampment. Accordingly on March 20th, we found ourselves in a rich and
park-like valley occupied by his people, and the day following was spent
in receiving visits from the head men. Messengers soon after arrived
from Mek Nimmur inviting us to pay him a visit at his residence.
As we were conversing with Mek Nimmur's messengers through the medium of
Taher Noor, who knew their language, our attention was attracted by the
arrival of a tremendous swell, who at a distance I thought must be Mek
Nimmur himself. A snow-white mule carried an equally snow-white person,
whose tight white pantaloons looked as though he had forgotten his
trousers and had mounted in his drawers. He carried a large umbrella
to shade his complexion; a pair of handsome silver-mounted pistols
were arranged upon his saddle, and a silver-hilted curved sword, of the
peculiar Abyssinian form, hung by his side. This grand personage was
followed by an attendant, also mounted upon a mule, while several men
on foot accompanied them, one of whom carried his lance and shield. Upon
near approach he immediately dismounted and advanced toward us, bowing
in a most foppish manner, while his attendant followed him on foot with
an enormous violin, which he immediately handed to him. This fiddle was
very peculiar in shape, being a square, with an exceedingly long neck
extending from one corner. Upon this was stretched a solitary string,
and the bow was very short and much bent. This was an Abyssinian
Paganini. He was a professional minstrel of the highest grade, who had
been sent by Mek Nimmur to welcome us on our arrival.
These musicians are very similar to the minstrels of ancient times. They
attend at public rejoicings, and at births, deaths, and marriages of
great personages, upon which occasions they extemporize their songs
according to circumstances. My hunting in the Base country formed his
theme, and for at least an hour he sang of my deeds in an extremely loud
and disagreeable voice, while he accompanied himself upon his fiddle,
which he held downward like a violoncello. During the whole of his song
he continued in movement, marching with a sliding step to the front, and
gliding to the right and left in a manner that, though intended to be
graceful, was extremely comic. The substance of this minstrelsy was
explained to me by Taher Noor, who listened eagerly to the words, which
he translated with evident satisfaction. Of course, like all minstrels,
he was an absurd flatterer, and, having gathered a few facts for his
theme, he wandered slightly from the truth in his poetical description
of my deeds.
He sang of me as though I had been Richard Coeur de Lion, and recounted,
before an admiring throng of listeners, how I had wandered with a young
wife from my own distant country to fight the terrible Base; how I had
slain them in a single combat, and bow elephants and lions were struck
down like lambs and kids by my hands. That during my absence in the hunt
my wife had been carried off by the Base; that I had, on my return to
my pillaged camp, galloped off in chase, and, overtaking the enemy,
hundreds had fallen by my rifle and sword, and I had liberated and
recovered the lady, who now had arrived safe with her lord in the
country of the great Mek Nimmur, etc., etc.
This was all very pretty, no doubt, and as true as most poetical and
musical descriptions; but I felt certain that there must be something
to pay for this flattering entertainment. If you are considered to be
a great man, a PRESENT is invariably expected in proportion to your
importance. I suggested to Taher Noor that I must give him a couple of
dollars. "What!" said Taher Noor, "a couple of dollars? Impossible!
a musician of his standing is accustomed to receive thirty and forty
dollars from great people for so beautiful and honorable a song."
This was somewhat startling. I began to reflect upon the price of a box
at Her Majesty's Theatre in London; but there I was not the hero of the
opera. This minstrel combined the whole affair in a most simple manner.
He was Verdi, Costa, and orchestra all in one. He was a thorough
Macaulay as historian, therefore I had to pay the composer as well as
the fiddler. I compromised the matter, and gave him a few dollars, as I
understood that he was Mek Nimmur's private minstrel; but I never parted
with my dear Maria Theresa (* The Austrian dollar, that is the only
large current coin in that country.) with so much regret as upon that
occasion, and I begged him not to incommode himself by paying us another
visit, or, should he be obliged to do so, I trusted he would not think
it necessary to bring his violin.
The minstrel retired in the same order that he had arrived, and I
watched his retreating figure with unpleasant reflections, that were
suggested by doubts as to whether I had paid him too little or too much.
Taher Noor thought that he was underpaid; my own opinion was that I
had brought a curse upon myself equal to a succession of London
organ-grinders, as I fully expected that other minstrels, upon hearing
of the Austrian dollars, would pay us a visit and sing of my great
deeds.
In the afternoon we were sitting beneath the shade of our tamarind tree,
when we thought we could perceive our musical friend returning. As he
drew near, we were convinced that it was the identical minstrel, who had
most probably been sent with a message from Mek Nimmur. There he was, in
snow-white raiment, on the snow-white mule, with the mounted attendant
and the violin as before. He dismounted upon arrival opposite the
camp, and approached with his usual foppish bow; but we looked on in
astonishment: it was not our Paganini, it was ANOTHER MINSTREL! who
was determined to sing an ode in our praise. I felt that this was an
indirect appeal to Maria Theresa, and I at once declared against music.
I begged him not to sing; "my wife had a headache--I disliked the
fiddle--could He play anything else instead?" and I expressed a variety
of polite excuses, but to no purpose; he insisted upon singing. If I
disliked the fiddle, he would sing without an accompaniment, but he
could not think of insulting so great a man as myself by returning
without an ode to commemorate our arrival.
I was determined that he should NOT sing; he was determined that he
WOULD, therefore I desired him to leave my camp. This he agreed to do,
provided I would allow him to cross the stream and sing to my Tokrooris
in my praise, beneath a neighboring tree about fifty yards distant.
He remounted his mule with his violin, to ford the muddy stream, and
descended the steep bank, followed by his attendant on foot, who drove
the unwilling mule. Upon arrival at the brink of the dirty brook, that
was about three feet deep, the mule positively refused to enter the
water, and stood firm with its fore feet sunk deep in the mud. The
attendant attempted to push it on behind, and at the same time gave it a
sharp blow with his sheathed sword. This changed the scene to the "opera
comique." In one instant the mule gave so vigorous and unexpected a
kick into the bowels of the attendant that he fell upon his back, heels,
uppermost, while at the same moment the minstrel, in his snow-white
garments, was precipitated head fore-most into the muddy brook, and, for
the moment disappearing, the violin alone could be seen floating on the
surface. A second later, a wretched-looking object, covered with slime
and filth, emerged from the slongh; this was Paganini the second! who,
after securing his fiddle, that had stranded on a mud-bank, scrambled
up the steel slope, amid the roars of laughter of my people and of
ourselves, while the perverse mule, having turned harmony into discord,
kicked up its heels and galloped off, braying an ode in praise of
liberty, as the "Lay of the Last Minstrel." The discomfited fiddler was
wiped down by my Tokrooris, who occasionally burst into renewed fits
of laughter during the operation. The mule was caught, and the minstrel
remounted, and returned home completely out of tune.
On the following morning at sunrise I mounted my horse, and, accompanied
by Taher Noor and Bacheet, I rode to pay my respects to Mek Nimmur. Our
route lay parallel to the stream, and after a ride of about two miles
through a fine park-like country, bounded by the Abyssinian Alps about
fifteen miles distant, I observed a crowd of people round a large
tamarind tree, near which were standing a number of horses, mules, and
dromedaries. This was the spot upon which I was to meet Mek Nimmur. Upon
my approach the crowd opened, and, having dismounted, I was introduced
by Taher Noor to the great chief. He was a man of about fifty, and
exceedingly dirty in appearance. He sat upon an angarep, surrounded
by his people; lying on either side upon his seat were two brace of
pistols, and within a few yards stood his horse ready saddled. He
was prepared for fight or flight, as were also his ruffianly looking
followers, who were composed of Abyssinians and Jaleens. After a long
and satisfactory conversation I retired. Immediately on my arrival at
camp I despatched Wat Gamma with a pair of beautiful double-barrelled
pistols, which I begged Mek Nimmur to accept. On March 27th we said
good-by and started for the Bahr Salaam.
The next few days we spent in exploring the Salaam and Angrab rivers.
They are interesting examples of the destructive effect of water, that
has during the course of ages cut through and hollowed out, in the solid
rock, a succession of the most horrible precipices and caverns, in which
the maddened torrents, rushing from the lofty chain of mountains, boil
along until they meet the Atbara and assist to flood the Nile. No one
could explore these tremendous torrents, the Settite, Royan, Angrab,
Salaam, and Atbara, without at once comprehending their effect upon the
waters of the Nile. The magnificent chain of mountains from which they
flow is not a simple line of abrupt sides, but the precipitous slopes
are the walls of a vast plateau, that receives a prodigious rainfall
in June, July, August, and until the middle of September, the entire
drainage of which is carried away by the above-named channels to
inundate Lower Egypt.
I thoroughly explored the beautiful country of the Salaam and Angrab,
and on the 14th of April we pushed on for Gallabat, the frontier
market-town of Abyssinia.
We arrived at our old friend, the Atbara River, at the sharp angle as
it issues from the mountains. At this place it was in its infancy. The
noble Atbara, whose course we had tracked for hundreds of weary
miles, and whose tributaries we had so carefully examined, was here a
second-class mountain torrent, about equal to the Royan, and not to be
named in comparison with the Salaam or Angrab. The power of the Atbara
depended entirely upon the western drainage of the Abyssinian Alps; of
itself it was insignificant until aided by the great arteries of
the mountain-chain. The junction of the Salaam at once changed its
character, and the Settite or Taccazzy completed its importance as the
great river of Abyssinia, that has washed down the fertile soil of those
regions to create the Delta of Lower Egypt, and to perpetuate that Delta
by annual deposits, that ARE NOW FORMING A NEW EGYPT BENEATH THE WATERS
OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. We had seen the Atbara a bed of glaring
sand--a mere continuation of the burning desert that surrounded its
course--fringed by a belt of withered trees, like a monument sacred to
the memory of a dead river. We had seen the sudden rush of waters when,
in the still night, the mysterious stream had invaded the dry bed and
swept all before it like an awakened giant; we knew at that moment "the
rains were falling in Abyssinia," although the sky above us was without
a cloud. We had subsequently witnessed that tremendous rainfall, and
seen the Atbara at its grandest flood. We had traced each river
and crossed each tiny stream that fed the mighty Atbara from the
mountain-chain, and we now, after our long journey, forded the Atbara in
its infancy, hardly knee-deep, over its rocky bed of about sixty yards'
width, and camped in the little village of Toganai, on the rising ground
upon the opposite side. It was evening, and we sat upon an angarep among
the lovely hills that surrounded us, and looked down upon the Atbara for
the last time, as the sun sank behind the rugged mountain of Ras el Feel
(the elephant's head). Once more I thought of that wonderful river Nile,
that could flow forever through the exhausting deserts of sand, while
the Atbara, during the summer months, shrank to a dry skeleton, although
the powerful affluents, the Salaam and the Settite, never ceased to
flow; every drop of their waters was evaporated by the air and absorbed
by the desert sand in the bed of the Atbara, two hundred miles above its
junction with the Nile!
The Atbara exploration was completed, and I looked forward to the fresh
enterprise of exploring new rivers and lower latitudes, that should
unravel the mystery of the Nile!