* * * * *
The clear blue sky had lost its regent moon,
The pale red rose had lent the east its bloom,
Gilding the azure of the blended hues,
The glorious orb rose proud upon his reign.
Poised in the dome of still transparent air
A marble cloud hung streaked with the sun’s gold,
With rose-leaves showered o’er its snow-white sides;
And that day’s noon was sunless, and at night
There was a fearful storm.
* * * * *
FROM BAGGHAREEYEH TO OM-BADR.
A trapped gazelle. — A lost camel. — The warning of the storm. — The
storm. — Arab prowlers. — The plain of Om-Badr. — A crowd. — An
unfriendly shiekh. — A conversation.
AT Bagghareeyeh there are about a hundred and fifty wells, all in the
centre of the valley, varying from ten to thirty feet in depth. The
shallow wells, however, only contain water during the fall of the rains.
A short distance below a ridge of quartz crosses the valley, which
tending to retain the water, has evidently led to the selection of this
site for the wells.
While, on the day following our arrival, we were devoting ourselves to
the contemplation of the heavens in order to fix our position on the
earth, we were disturbed in our labours by a sight which, though common
among the Arabs, was certainly new, not to say disagreeable, to me. A
gazelle, caught during the night in an ordinary foot-trap laid by our
Arabs, passed near us, dragging, in its frantic endeavours to escape, a
large thorny branch to which the trap had been tied. Four men were
pursuing it, and overtook it close to where we were stationed. Their
knives, which they carry in sheaths fastened to the left arm a little
above the elbow, were quickly drawn. One cut was made across the throat,
and, while the animal was still breathing, its stomach was half cut,
half torn open, and the green and yellow partly-digested contents were
ravenously devoured in handsful. One of the Arabs, his hands and mouth
reeking with the blood of the gazelle, rushed to us, and, in his
politest and most winning way, stretched forth a handful of the
disgusting mass of chewed leaves and grass, and begged us to set to
while it was still warm. We did not eat it, we told him we had already
breakfasted. The Arab, however, knowing the flavour better, and
consequently appreciating more, soon showed us that the good things of
this world were not to be despised. The flesh of the gazelle was
speedily disposed of; large lumps were torn off by hands and teeth, and
swallowed whole. When the meal was finished, and the blood wiped from
the hands and faces of those who had partaken of it, nothing remained
but the sucked and marrowless bones scattered about on the ground. The
skin was taken away to be cured, and the entrails to be dried and
presented at some future period, as ornaments or for stringing beads, to
the sweethearts and wives of the fortunate captors of the unhappy
gazelle.
On the morning of the 26th we continued our journey, my companion and
myself starting on a bee line for Om-Badr, and the other section
following the centre of the valley. We got away early, leaving the
caravan to follow, and rested for lunch about twelve o’clock some ten
miles on the route along which the camels would have to travel. One
o’clock came and no caravan was in sight; two o’clock, and still no
caravan. I sent Mohommed Gadderâb back to ascertain what the matter was,
and with instructions that under any circumstances the caravan was to
get on as fast as possible. On its late arrival I learned that one of
the laden camels was lost, and that all the drivers had searched for
miles round in vain; and, moreover, that Mohommed the Mahound had been
much concerned and had prayed, and that his efforts had been equally in
vain. I first inquired whether the camel was laden with my property.
With many protestations the unhappy “Mahound” assured me that it was
not; the camel was laden with two large sacks of soldiers’ bread. I
eased his mind by telling him that very likely there was plenty of bread
to be had at El Fasher, where a body of troops was stationed, and that,
should none be obtainable there, we had plenty of rice and flour in our
stores, and could, if necessary, make up the loss. I suggested to him
that it was highly probable that the camel had by mistake walked off
with the other caravan, and that one of the guides could ride over to-
morrow, or, if he preferred it, at once, and find out if such were the
case. This idea of the camel’s having got mixed up with those of the
other section had never occurred to our friend the “Mahound.” Its
probability struck him immediately, and a smile lighted up his hitherto
forlorn-looking face. He told me I knew everything; he would at once
despatch a guide to bring back the missing camel and bread. I pointed
out to him, eight or ten miles away, what I fortunately knew was the
site fixed upon by the other section for the first day’s resting-place.
The camel and bread were safely brought back late at night, and a
_fantasìa_ was immediately inaugurated. I had earned the reputation of
being a wise man, but at the dear cost of being kept awake half the
night by the music and shouting of that long-lasting _fantasìa_.
Our route after leaving Bagghareeyeh was along the western side of the
Wady Milkh. The boundary of the valley was very indefinite, and the
rocks were scattered about in all directions. To our right lay a dismal
mountain region very high above the level of the valley, but without a
marked line of beginning and, from aught we could see from some of the
highest peaks we ascended, without approachable end. On the rough and
waterworn highland, stretching away to the remote west, not a particle
of vegetation was to be seen; but an hour’s journey on foot—it was too
rough even for the camels—disclosed some few low-lying parts whence a
few thorn-bushes and some grass climbed for a little height up the
perpendicular sides of the bare rocks. A few ibex-like animals were
feeding in the hollows, and some might be seen leaping about like
chamois, seemingly for exercise only, on the highest summits of the
barren peaks.
The distance from Bagghareeyeh to Om-Badr is rather more than four days’
journey. The delay of three hours, occasioned by the temporary loss of
the camel at starting, was more than made up by travelling for two hours
longer on the two succeeding days; and on the fourth day I gave
instructions to the “Mahound” to go right on to Om-Badr, and not to
stop, as on the preceding days, at sunset. At about two o’clock one of
the head-men of the camel-drivers rode up to me and asked whether the
caravan might not stop at four o’clock, as on that night there would be
a great storm of wind, which was likely to be worse at Om-Badr, as that
place was high up in the mountains. His meteorological knowledge
surprised me not a little, as the sky appeared to me to be as clear as
usual. He was, however, positive, and said it would be well to choose
the camp early, and if possible to get into a valley and tie the tent-
ropes to the trees, as he was sure the tent pegs would not hold them. On
my expressing some doubts as to his prescience, he energetically took
hold of my wrist and walked me off to the top of a low hill, when,
extending his finger towards the south, he told me to look. I looked and
looked again, and continued looking, but could see nothing, and told him
so. He seemed to pity my helpless blindness. Mohommed Gadderâb, my own
guide, came up shortly after, and pointing, as the other man had
pointed, to the south, told me to look, as a storm was to come that
night. He described the cloud as resting on the horizon, white at its
centre and fading towards its sides into the pale blue of the air. He
had seen it since the morning, when it was fainter still. I felt now in
a state of utter bewilderment. After partial recovery I decided,
however, to have a good long and thoroughly exhaustive gaze: to my eyes
there was still nothing to be seen. After my blinding stare I came to
the conclusion it was a hoax got up by the Arabs in order to enable them
to have a good night’s rest, or even perhaps another _fantasìa_. At five
o’clock, however, a cloud began to show itself in the south, and rapidly
assumed proportions portending a furious wind. The guide called my
attention to it; should he ride on and stop the caravan? I told him
“Yes.” He sped like lightning across the desert and overtook the
caravan. Its march was arrested, and the camp pitched in the deepest
_findable_ hollow; the tent-ropes were tied to the trees, or, where this
was not feasible, heavy lumps of rock were brought and placed so as to
give additional power of resistance to the tent-pegs.
The whole of the southern sky was now filled with vapoury clouds, some
of them floating slowly towards us near the low-lying ground, others
chasing each other fast, like the waves of a furious sea, along the tops
of the rocks on our distant right, and, over all, one mass of gray dense
cloud tearing through the heavens at tempest speed, and promising soon
to fill up the whole of the north with darkness as it had already filled
the south. Our camp was soon in total obscurity; the host of
impenetrable cloud was above us. Swiftly as it moved, the air beneath
was calm or nearly so. A few little vapour-clouds rolled slowly over the
site of the camp, moistening the walls of the tents, but there was no
perceptible wind. Before the horizon to the north was completely hidden
from view, a small light began to show itself towards the south. Soon
the southern sky again became visible, and within half an hour the whole
dome of the heavens was free from the hideous clouds, and full of the
beautiful light of the stars. Late on into the night a hot and
suffocating wind blew from the south, not severely enough to endanger
the stability of the tents, but preventing anything like comfortable
sleep. The terrors of the storm itself were spent on the upper air; we
had fortunately escaped them.
On the next morning about twenty Arabs, some on horseback, some on foot,
were scattered round the camp at about a mile distant, evidently night
prowlers from Om-Badr out on a camel-lifting adventure. We had been
warned about these people, and had taken precautions to keep our camels
in bounds. A short time previous to the acquisition of Darfoor by the
Egyptians, Munzinger Pacha, in charge of an expedition, had been
attacked here, and in an affray had lost his second in command, and had
been compelled to retrace his steps without being permitted to fill up
his water-skins.
This tribe of Arabs, the Hamr, were represented as the most warlike and
thievish of all the tribes in Darfoor, and were, moreover, reported to
be well-armed with double-barrelled guns. We rode up to them after
breakfast, and found them an ill-bred and surly lot of fellows, but
certainly not of very warlike appearance. Their horses were of the most
miserable description, half-starved and sore-backed. Only a few of the
riders had saddles, and none of these had girths. The men sat their
horses, which seemed only capable of a walking pace, as a tailor sits
his board when at work. Those on foot stood leaning on their spears,
with the sole of the right foot pressed close against the shin of the
left leg—a posture, I believe, purely African, common amongst the
Kaffirs of the south, and, from Sir Samuel Baker’s drawings, common
amongst the negroes in Central Africa. The Hamr are, however, the only
Arab tribe whom I have seen adopt it. The report concerning their arms
turned out to be nonsense. Only one of the Arabs, either of those
prowling round our camp, or of those we found at Om-Badr itself,
possessed a fire-arm, a single-barrelled flint musket, marked with a
crown and “G. R. Tower.” Half-way down the barrel was a circular hole,
evidently caused by a refractory bullet which, not having been able to
find its way out by the muzzle, had forcibly made an aperture for
itself. The value of this formidable weapon must, however, have been
considerably diminished, owing to the circumstance of its possessor
having no ammunition. These amiable and warlike Arabs refused to give us
any information or to enter into conversation at all. Mohommed Gadderâb
called them by the name of an animal to which all Mohommedans have an
invincible repugnance: they only grunted, and this circumstance, I have
no doubt, tended to confirm him in his opinion.
In about an hour, from one of the high summits we could see the plain,
up among the rocks, where the wells of Om-Badr were situated.
The plain, only half a mile distant from the foot of the mountain on
which we stood, presented an interesting sight. Its surface as far as we
could see was crowded with animals. Flocks of black sheep and goats, and
large herds of brown cattle mixed with white and gray of the thousands
of camels, gave the scene a piebald and variegated appearance. Through a
gorge leading from the higher plains to the westward, a long and
continuous stream of camels was slowly descending, its white continuity
broken, here and there, by strings of cattle and sheep. Several large
tents were visible on some low sand-hills at the top of the pass along
which our own caravan was approaching from the valley below, soon to add
its little mite to the numbers on the plain. Before long a row of our
tents began to appear, and we came down from our height and were soon in
the midst of the crowd.
Mohommed Effendi, the lieutenant of Engineers, had started off with his
note-book directly on his arrival, glad of the opportunity to
distinguish himself in collecting statistics, the more especially as his
services had not been required since our departure from Sotaire. The
following were the notes he made and handed to me soon after I came into
camp:—
“Men, 1,050; women, 2,100; boys and girls, 3,000; horses, 50; oxen, 150;
sheep, 2,400; goats, 1,350; camels, 50,000—every day 10,000 come down to
drink; wells, 500.
“Races of Arabs—Hamr, Maganeen, Beni-Hamran.”
I thanked him for the information, which I took every means of
verifying, and found pretty correct.
The name Beni-Hamran, “sons of the Hamran,” struck me as rather
singular. The home of the Hamran Arabs is on the other side of the Nile,
bordering on Abyssinia. Sir S. Baker alludes to them as the “Sword
Hunters,” and speaks in terms of admiration of their unrivalled
dexterity in hunting all kinds of beasts with the sword only. I
mentioned this circumstance to Mohommed Effendi, and pointed out on the
map the site of the Hamran or Sword Hunter Arabs. He suggested we should
go and have a talk with the shiekh. We found the old man squatted on the
ground smoking his “chibook,” and surrounded with camels and cattle,
some of them at times so close that there was scarcely room for us to
seat ourselves without fear of being trampled upon. As we came up and
saluted he did not rise, a very unusual thing in an Arab. The fact was,
our caravan was attended by Arabs of the Kabbabbeesh tribe, with whom
the Hamr and the allied sub-tribes had long carried on bitter war. The
old gentleman did not like the company in which we travelled. We,
however, selected comfortable places by his side, and Mohommed Effendi
started the following conversation:
“Salaam Aleycoom.”
“Aleycoom es salaam.”
“There are many peoples round the wells, very rich and powerful.”
“Yes, three tribes, all powerful and strict followers of the Prophet. He
(the speaker) was the father of one of the tribes.”
“Did the people wander much over the earth?”
“Yes, over the whole earth, to Darfoor, to Wadai, and further to the
west; to Khordofan and far to the south, where Allah was not known, to
the Kafrs (heathen) for slaves.”
“Did they ever go to the north among the Khabbabbeesh as far as the
river?”
“They had had many great wars with the Khabbabbeesh, but they were now
brothers. Yes, they went to the river, but very seldom.”
“Where were the fathers of the Beni-Hamran?”
“The fathers were with Allah.”
I told him a great traveller had seen the Hamran tribe on the far side
of the river on the borders of the Habeshi.
“Was the great traveller a Beni-Hamran?”
“No.”
“Was he a friend of mine?”
“No.”
“Then he must be wrong. The Hamran Arabs did not cross the river. How
could the camels cross? and what would be the good of crossing? There
was plenty of food for the camels here.”
“But as the Hamran were at this day on the other side of the river,
perhaps the Beni-Hamran had left their fathers many years ago to be
independent.”
“The Beni-Hamran had always been independent and free, and owners of
many slaves; and no Arab quarrels with his fathers.”
At this point the conversation came to an abrupt termination. The old
man rose from his seat, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and, without
wishing either of us “good-day,” walked slowly off, and, winding his
course among the crowd of camels, was soon lost to our sight.
The question of genealogy which I was so anxious to solve remained, as
far as I was concerned, a question still. Whether other of the shiekhs
_knew_ anything of the matter is more than I can tell; but all of whom I
made inquiries _told_ me about as much as the unceremonious old boor who
had just walked off, and that was—_nothing_.
[Decoration]