SCULPTURES AND ROMAN REMAINS IN THE DESERT—GHARÍYA.
We lost the best part of the morning, our men not being able to find
their camels, which had roamed over the whole wady. Our road was almost
the same as that by which I had returned the previous day; and we
encamped in the Wady Sófejín, on a spot free from bushes. From this
place, accompanied by the Zintáni, I visited, the next morning, the
castle or convent in Shʿabet Um el kharáb, which I have described, and
thence struck across the stony plateau in order to overtake our caravan.
It was a desolate level, rarely adorned with humble herb or flower; and
we hastened our steps to reach our companions. Here I heard, from the
Zintáni, that his father came every year about this season, with his
flocks, to the valleys east of our road, and that he would certainly
be there this year also. He invited me to go thither with him, and to
indulge in milk to the extent of my wishes; as for myself, I declined,
but allowed him to go, on condition that he would return to us as soon as
possible.
Even after we had overtaken the caravan, the country continued in general
very bare; but we passed some valleys affording a good deal of herbage or
adorned with some fine batúm-trees. About five o’clock P.M. we encamped
in Wady Talha, not far from a Roman castle or tower on a hill to our
left. On visiting the ruin, I found it built of rough stones without
cement, being about twenty feet square in the interior, with rounded
corners, and with only one narrow gate, towards the east. But this was
not the only remnant of antiquity in the neighbourhood, for in front of
us, on the plateau, there appeared something like a tower of greater
elevation; and proceeding early the next morning, when our people had
only begun to load, to examine it, I found it to be a Roman sepulchre,
originally consisting apparently of three stories; but of these only the
base and the first story remain, while the stones belonging to the upper
one are now scattered on the ground, and show that it was ornamented
with small Corinthian columns at the corners. Even in the most desolate
spot, everything left by the Romans has a peculiar finish. The first
story, being all that at present remains, measures 5 ft. 4 in. on the
east and west, and 5 ft. 9 in. on the north and south sides. Not far from
this sepulchre are the ruins of another one, of which, however, nothing
but the base remains, if, indeed, it was ever completed. By the time my
drawing was finished, the caravan had come up.
[Illustration]
I then passed several detached cones, the steep precipitous sides of
which, formed by the breaking away of the strata, looked like so many
castles, and traversing Wady Marsíd, reached the camels. They marched
to-day at a very good rate, the quickest we had as yet observed in
ordinary travelling—namely, half a mile in twelve minutes, making a
little less than two and a half miles an hour; but we afterwards found
that this had now become our usual rate, whereas before reaching Mizda
we had scarcely ever exceeded two miles an hour. The load of the camels,
of course, had been heavier in the beginning; but this can hardly be the
only reason of the difference. The greater dreariness of the country,
and the impulse of our camel-drivers and their beasts to get to their
homes, must be taken into account. I must here observe that Overweg and
I measured our rate repeatedly, with a chain provided by Government,
although it was a very fatiguing labour, and injurious to our dignity in
the eyes of our people. Gradually the day grew very uncomfortable, a hot
west wind driving the sand into our faces, and totally obscuring the sky.
Keeping along the Wady Téroth, sometimes more than a mile wide, we had on
our left a broad mount, rising first with a gradual ascent, but in its
upper part forming a steep and lofty wall called el Khaddamíyeh. Here,
too, according to the information of my faithful Arab, there is said to
be a Roman sepulchre. Having passed a small defile, and crossed another
valley, we had other Roman ruins on our right, a castle as it seemed, and
near it something like a sepulchre; but the sand-storm hardly allowed us
to look, still less to go in that direction.
At three o’clock in the afternoon we turned off to the west into Wady
Tagíje, and encamped near the bed of a torrent eight feet deep, which
amply testifies that, at times, a considerable stream is formed here, a
fact confirmed by the fresh and luxuriant herbage springing up in many
parts of the valley among thick bushes and brushwood. Nor was it quite
desolate even now; for the flocks of the Welád Bu-Séf were seen, and
their tents were said to be not far off. The upper part of the valley is
called el Khúrub.
This hot day proved a _dies ater_ to my Arab, who had gone to visit his
family. Having brought his old father with him, together with a goat,
as a present, and a skin of milk, he unluckily arrived too late in the
morning at our last night’s encampment. He then sent his father back
with the goat, and began to follow us in the hope of soon overtaking the
caravan; but he was obliged to march the whole intensely hot day without
water, and he could not drink the milk in the skin, which became quite
hot, so that he suffered greatly, and arrived in a very exhausted state.
The fine herbage procured us a whole day’s rest, as the camel-drivers
were in no haste to bring up their camels. Not knowing this, but yet
convinced that we should not start at an early hour, as the well was at
some distance, and following the information received from the Zintáni,
who was himself too lame to accompany me, I had taken my gun and pistols
at an early hour in the morning, and gone in the direction of the valley
to look after a monument. After nearly two hours’ march I distinguished
something like a high pillar, and, proceeding straight towards it, found
it to be one of the richest specimens of this kind of monument bequeathed
to us by antiquity, and an indisputable proof that these regions, now
so poor, must have then supported a population sufficiently advanced in
taste and feeling to admire works of a refined character.
[Illustration]
The monument rises, upon a base of three steps and in three stories,
nearly to a height of forty-eight feet. The base contains a sepulchral
chamber 4 ft. 10⅓ in. long, and 4 ft. ⅛ in. broad, with three niches,
one on the north, and two on the east side. This side was the principal
face of the monument, forming its most ornamented part. The first story
measures at its base on the east and west sides 5 ft 5⅜ in., and on the
north and south sides 4 ft. 10⅛ in.: it consists of six layers of stones,
on the lowest of which is represented a pair of wild animals, probably
panthers, with their fore legs or paws resting upon a sepulchral urn, as
if they were watching it; on the next layer above is seen the handsome
bust of a young female; two layers intervene without sculpture; and the
fifth is ornamented on all the four sides with hunting-scenes. The frieze
on every side is formed by four rosettes; but that on the north side has
some additional decoration, the second rosette on that side, from the
east, exhibiting a group of centaurs, and the fourth a cock. Upon this
part of the frieze is a garland of clusters of grapes; then follows the
moulding.
In the second story the third layer forms the sill and lower part of a
false door very richly ornamented, and on the fifth layer a pair of genii
hold a coronal over the door of the sepulchre, a representation which
seems to intimate Christian ideas. Above it a niche contains the busts
of a man and his wife; but on the north side an elderly woman occupies
a niche with her bust, probably in her character as proprietress of the
single sepulchral niche of the tomb below. Above is an ornament with
two bunches of grapes; and then follows the frieze, of the common Ionic
order. The moulding is surmounted by a pyramidal roof about twelve feet
high, which has lost its summit; otherwise the whole monument, with the
exception of the sepulchral chamber, which has been broken up in search
of treasures, is in the best state of preservation, notwithstanding its
very slender proportions,—a circumstance very remarkable, after a lapse
of at least more than sixteen centuries. No wonder that the natives of
these regions now regard these tall sepulchral monuments, so strange
at present in this land of desolation, as pagan idols, and call them
“sanem;” for I myself, when alone in front of the monument in this wide,
solitary valley, and under the shadow of the deep, precipitous side of a
plateau adjoining the Khaddamíye on the east, felt impressed by it with a
certain degree of awe and veneration.
My sketch being finished, I was still attracted to a greater distance up
the valley by something which seemed at first to be another monument;
but it was only a mark fixed by the Arabs, and served but to lengthen
my march back, which was more slow, as the heat had set in. But I was
well satisfied with my morning’s work; and my companions were greatly
astonished when they saw the sketch. In the afternoon I made with Overweg
another excursion in the opposite direction, when after an hour’s march
we ascended a height and obtained a most interesting view over this
singular tract, which seems to be the fragmentary border of a plateau
torn and severed by ravines and precipices, so that only wall-like
cliffs, rising like so many islands out of a sea of desolation, indicate
its height. A high craggy ridge towards the west, with precipitous
pinnacled walls, looked like a castle of the demons. Just in a ravine on
the border of this wild scene of natural revolutions, my companion had
the good luck to find some very interesting fossils, particularly that
beautiful specimen which after him has been called Exogyra Overwegi; but
our zeal had carried us too far, and it grew dark as we commenced our
return, so that we had some difficulty in groping our way back to our
encampment, where we arrived weary and fatigued, after having caused our
people a good deal of apprehension.
We were roused from our refreshing sleep as early as two o’clock after
midnight; but this was a mere sham of our camel-drivers, who feigned
making up for the loss of yesterday, and after all we did not get off
early. Our road carried us from wady to wady, which were generally
separated from each other by a defile, occasionally presenting some
difficulty of passage. We left a castle of Roman workmanship, as it
seemed, in the distance to the left, and further on to the right a slight
stone wall called Hakl el Urínsa, dating from the petty wars between the
Arab tribes. We had already passed a few small ethel-bushes; but now we
came to a most venerable-looking old tree called Athelet Si Mohammed
fi Useát, spreading out its weather-beaten branches to a considerable
distance: under this I sat down quietly for a while, waiting for our
people, who were still behind. The caravan at length came up; and
continuing our march, we soon passed on our right hand the chapel of a
great Merábet of the Welád Bu-Séf, called Si Rashedán. The Welád Bu-Séf
in general enjoy great authority with the other tribes for their sanctity
of life and purity of manners; they allow no stranger to come near their
villages, but pitch a tent for him at a distance, and treat him well.
The Welád Bu-Séf are remarkable for the excellent breed of their camels,
which they treat almost as members of their families. It is curious that
this tribe, intent upon right and justice, has waged war incessantly
from ancient times with the Urfílla, the most warlike and violent of the
tribes of these regions. It is difficult to make out whether they are
related to the Welád Bu-Séf of the western part of the desert, who are
likewise distinguished by their peculiar manners, but who it seems would
scruple, on religious grounds, to call a man ʿAbd eʾ nebi (Slave of the
Prophet), which is the name of the ancestor of the Eastern Bu-Séf.
Emerging from a defile, upon high ground, early in the afternoon,
we obtained a view over Wady Zémzem, one of the most celebrated
valleys of this part of North Africa. It runs in general from west to
east-north-east, and is furnished with a great many wells, the most
famous of which are el Abiadh, Sméla, Nákhala, Urídden, Halk el Wady,
and, a little further down, Téder. In half an hour we encamped in the
valley, full of herbage and with a goodly variety of trees. A caravan
coming from the natron-lakes, and carrying their produce to Tripoli, was
here encamped. I could not withstand the temptation of ascending, in the
afternoon, a projecting eminence on the south side of the valley, which
was broken and rent into a great variety of precipices and ravines; but
its summit, being on a level with the plateau, did not afford me such a
distant view as I had expected. The cliff was formed of strata of marl
and gypsum, and contained many fossil shells.
As soon as we left the bottom of the valley, the path, which became
rugged and stony, led up the southern cliffs, went round the east side
of the conspicuous promontory, and then continued to wind along between
the slopes of the higher level of the plateau. A hill, distinguished
from among the surrounding heights by the peculiar shape of its cone,
has here received the significant name Shúsh el ʿabíd—the Slaves’ Cap.
A little further on, the roads separate, that to the left leading along
the principal branch of the valley to the little town Gharíya, while the
eastern goes to the well Taboníye. One might suppose that in a desolate
country like this, and just at the entrance into a desert tract of great
extent, the caravans would gladly avail themselves of those abodes
of life which still exist: but this is not the case; they avoid them
intentionally, as if a curse were attached to them, and those places,
of course, fall every day more and more into decay. After a little
consultation, the path by Taboníye was thought preferable, and we took
it. The rough and stony character of the country ceased, and we gradually
entered a fine valley, called Wady Tolágga, richly clothed with a
variety of trees and bushes, such as the sidr, the ethel, the ghurdok,
and several others. After meeting here with a caravan, we caught the
gladdening and rare sight of an Arab encampment, belonging to the Urínsa,
and obtained some milk. Without crossing any separation or defile, but
always keeping along the same valley, we approached the well Taboníye.
But near it the vegetation is less rich; the soil is intermixed with
salt, and covered with a peculiar kind of low tree called by the present
inhabitants of the country, frʿo,—a term which in pure Arabic would only
mean “a branch.”
[Illustration]
While our people were busily employed pitching the tents, I went at once
to examine a monument which, for the last hour of our march, had stood
as a landmark ahead of us. I reached it at the distance of a mile and a
quarter from our encampment, over very stony and rugged ground. It was
well worth the pains I had taken; for, though it is less magnificent than
the monument in West Tagíje, its workmanship would excite the interest
of travellers, even if it were situated in a fertile and well-inhabited
country, and not in a desolate wilderness like this, where a splendid
building is of course an object of far greater curiosity. It is a
sepulchre about twenty-five feet high, and rising in three stories of
less slender proportions than the monument above described, and is
probably of a later period. The sketch on the preceding page will suffice
to give an exact idea of it.
Near this is another sepulchre, occupying a more commanding situation,
and therefore probably of older date, but it is almost entirely
destroyed; and a third one in an equally ruinous state, but of larger
proportions than either, is seen further south-east. These monuments
serve to show that the dominion of the Romans in these regions was
not of momentary duration, but continued for a length of time, as the
different styles of the remains clearly proves. It may be presumed that
no common soldier could pretend to the honour of such a tomb; and it
is probable that these sepulchres were destined to contain the earthly
remains of some of the consecutive governors or officers stationed at the
neighbouring place, which I shall soon describe.
Like a solitary beacon of civilization, the monument rises over this
sea-like level of desolation, which, stretching out to an immense
distance south and west, appears not to have appalled the conquerors of
the ancient world, who even here have left behind them, in “lithographed
proof,” a reminiscence of a more elevated order of life than exists at
present in these regions. The flat valley below, with its green strip of
herbage, stretches far into the stony level; and beyond, north-eastwards,
the desolate waste extends towards Gharíya.
I returned to the encampment, which meanwhile had sprung up on the open
space round the well, and was anxious to quench my thirst with a draught
of the precious liquid; but the water was rather salt, and disagreed with
me so long as I continued to use it,—that is, for the next seven days.
That we might make good use of our leisure hours, all three of us went
the next day to Gharíya, or rather Gharíya el gharbíya—_i.e._, western,
to distinguish it from the more distant eastern place of the same name.
Cheerfully as we set forward, we were heartily glad when, after a three
hours’ march, we saw the northern tower of the place become visible over
the monotonous stony plain, the wide and unbounded expanse of which
seemed to indicate something above a single day’s excursion. After having
also descried the half-ruined dwellings of the village, we were eagerly
looking out for the palm-grove, when we suddenly reached the brink of a
deep ravine, in which, on our left, the fresh green plantation started
forth, while all around was naked and bare. We crossed the ravine,
leaving the grove on our left, and ascended the opposite cliffs towards
the ruined cluster of miserable cottages, when, having traversed the
desolate streets, we encamped outside the Roman gate, the massive and
regular architecture of which formed a remarkable contrast to the frail
and half-ruined structures of the village. We were greatly astonished to
find such a work here.
It has but little resemblance to the Roman castle or station at Bonjem,
such as it is seen in Captain Lyon’s drawing; for while the latter
represents a single gateway flanked by two quadrangular towers, the
building at Gharíya consists of three archways, flanked by towers with
receding walls. The two smaller gateways have been almost entirely
filled with rubbish; the upper layer likewise is gone, and only those
stones which form the arch itself are preserved, the centre stone above
the principal arch, bearing the inscription “PRO. AFR. ILL.” (provincia
Africæ illustris), encircled by a coronal, while that above the eastern
side-gate is ornamented with a large sculpture, the lower part of which
it is difficult to make out distinctly, except the trace of a chariot and
a person in curious attire following it, while the upper part represents
two eagles in a sitting posture, with half-extended wings, holding a
coronal, and at each end a female genius, in a flying posture, stretching
out a larger and a smaller coronal. Besides this, and a few Berber names,
there is no inscription now on the building; but an inscription found
in another place, which I shall soon mention, and which was probably
originally placed over the small archway on the right, seems to leave no
doubt that this fortification dates from the time of Marc. Aurel. Severus
Antoninus, and if not built in the years between 232 and 235 after
Christ, at least was then in existence.
[Illustration]
As the ground-plan, which is here subjoined, evidently shows, this is not
by itself a complete building, and could only afford quarters to a very
limited number of soldiers acting as a guard: in fact it can only be the
well-fortified entrance into the Roman station; but of the station itself
I was unable to discover any traces, though a great quantity of stones
from some building lie scattered about in the village. The only ancient
building which I was able to discover, besides the gate, was a cistern
at the north-west corner of the wall, near the slope into the wady, which
is here very precipitous. It was probably 60 ft. long, for at 30 ft.
there is an arch dividing it; but one half of it, except a space of about
8 ft., has been filled with rubbish: its breadth is 5 ft. 3½ in. Perhaps
the whole fortification was never finished; the inner edge of the stones
would seem to intimate that not even the gateway received its entire
ornament.
[Illustration]
While I was busy making a drawing of the ruins, Overweg, who, in order
to measure the elevation of the place by boiling water, had directed his
steps to a rising ground at some distance north of the village, which
was crowned with a tower, sent to inform me that on the tower was a
large Roman inscription, which he was unable to make out; and as soon
as I had finished my sketch I went thither. It is a round Arab tower,
only two large ancient stones having been made use of as jambs, while a
large slab, covered with an inscription, is used as an impost, owing to
which circumstance the inhabitants generally regard even the tower as a
Christian or Roman building. The inscription, which was evidently taken
from the fortified station, is 32⁷⁄₁₂ in. long, and 15¹⁰⁄₁₂ in. high, and
consists of nine lines. It has been read and interpreted by Mr. Hogg in
the following manner.
I(mperatori) Caes(ari) M. Aurelio Severo Alexandro P(atri)
P(atriæ) P(i)o Felici Aug(usto) Et pagus et senatus et
castr(um) [_or_ castrum munitum] et municipium ... d. d.; poni
curavit Severianæ P. Nero situs vexillationis leg(ioni)s IV.
S(cythicæ); [_or_ legionis XXI. Victricis Severianæ] dec(urio)
Maurorum e(t) solo (o)pere (e)andem vexillationem instituit.
“To the Emperor Cæsar M. Aurelius Severus, Father of his
Country, Pious, Happy, Augustus, the district, the senate,
the camp, and free town of ... dedicate (this).... P. Nero
Decurion of the Moors, caused the station of the Severian
regiment (horse) of the 21st Legion, Victorious, Severian,
to be established; and he instituted by his own act the same
regiment.”
As for the tower, or nadhúr, it was evidently erected in former times in
order to give timely notice when a band of freebooters—“el jaesh” (the
army), as they are called here—was hovering around the solitary village;
for this seems to have been the chief cause of its destruction, the
Urfílla being said to have been always watching and lying in ambush round
this lonely place, to attack and rob small parties coming from or going
to it; they are said even to have once captured the whole place. The
consequence is, that it has now scarcely thirty male inhabitants to bear
arms, and is avoided by the caravans as pestilent, the water, they say,
being very unwholesome. The small remnant of the inhabitants have a very
pale and ghastly appearance, but I think this is owing rather to the bad
quality of their food than to that of the water. In former times it is
said to have been celebrated on account of a merábet of the name of Sidi
Mʿadi.
As soon as I had sufficiently examined the ruins and the village, I
hastened to the bottom of the ravine. The contrast between the ruined
hovels of the village, perched on the naked rock, and the green, fresh
plantation, fed by a copious supply of water, is very great. Thick,
luxuriant, and shady clusters are here formed, principally around the
basin filled by the spring, which rushes forth from beneath a rock, and
gives life to the little oasis; its temperature I found, at half-past one
o’clock P.M., 70½° Fahr., while that of the air was 70°. The number of
the date-trees, though small, is nevertheless larger than in Mizda, and
may be nearer to 350 than to 300. The water of the ravine after a heavy
fall of rain joins the Wadi Zemzem, the principal valley of this whole
district, which together with Wady Sófejín and Wady Beï, carries all the
streams collected hereabouts to the sea.
According to our Zintáni, the path leading to Taboníye from the western
village first lies over the hammáda, then crosses a ravine called Wady
Khatab, leads again over the plateau, crosses another wady, and at
length, after about ten miles, as it seems, reaches the ravine of Gharíya
eʾ sherkíya, stretching from west to east, the grove, of about the same
extent as in the other oasis, being formed at the north and west bases of
the rocky height upon which the place stands. At the side of the village
there is, he said, a large Roman castle, far larger than that in the
western one, of about eight or ten feet elevation at present, but without
an arched gateway of that kind, and without inscriptions. On the east
side of the eminence are only a few palms, and on the south side none.
The village is distinguished by a merábet called Bu-Sbaeha. Neither from
the Zintáni nor from anybody else did I hear that the inhabitants of
these two solitary ksúr are called by the peculiar name Warínga; I learnt
it afterwards only from Mr. Richardson’s statement, and I have reason to
think that the name was intended for Urínsa.
We returned by a more northern path, which at first led us through
a rather difficult rocky passage, but afterwards joined our path of
yesterday. Overweg and I had no time to lose in preparing for our journey
over the hammáda, or plateau, while Mr. Richardson was obliged, by the
conduct of the ill-provided and ill-disciplined blacks who accompanied
him, to follow us by night. We therefore got up very early next morning,
but lost a good deal of time by the quarrels among our camel-drivers,
who were trying, most unjustly, to reserve all the heavy loads for the
camels of the inexperienced Tarki lad ʿAli Karámra, till they excited his
indignation, and a furious row ensued. This youth, though his behaviour
was sometimes awkward and absurd, excited my interest in several
respects. He belonged to a family of Tawárek, as they are called, settled
in Wady el Gharbi, and was sent by his father to Tripoli with three
camels, to try his chance of success, although members of that nation,
with the exception of the Tinylkum, rarely visit Tripoli. He was slender
and well-formed, of a glossy light-black complexion, and with a profile
truly Egyptian; his manners were reserved, and totally different from
those of his Fezzáni companions.
At length we were under way, and began gradually to ascend along the
strip of green which followed the shelving of the plateau into the
valley, leaving the Roman sepulchre at some distance to our right. The
flat Wady Labaerek, which is joined by Wady Shák, was still adorned with
gattúf and rétem. It was not till we had passed the little hill called
Lebaerek, and made another slight ascent, that we reached the real level
of the terrible Hammáda; the ascent, or shelving ground, from Taboníye
to this point being called el Mudhár mtʿa el Hammáda, and the spot
itself, where the real Hammáda begins, Bú-safár, a name arising from the
obligation which every pilgrim coming from the north, who has not before
traversed this dreaded district, lies under, to add a stone to the heaps
accumulated by former travellers.
But, notwithstanding all the importance attached to the dreary character
of this region, I found it far less naked and bare than I had imagined
it to be. To the right of our path lay a small green hollow, of cheerful
appearance, a branch of which is said, probably with some degree of
exaggeration, to extend as far as Ghadámes; but the whole extent of the
Hammáda is occasionally enlivened with small green patches of herbage,
to the great relief of the camel. And this, too, is the reason why the
traveller does not advance at a rate nearly so expeditious as he would
expect. In the latter part of our preceding journey we generally had
made almost as much as two and a half miles an hour; but we scarcely got
over two on this level open ground. Of course, the wider the space the
wider the dispersion of the straggling camels; and much time is lost by
unsteady direction. At the verdant hollow called Garra mtʿa eʾ Nejm the
eastern path, which is called Trík el mugítha (_via auxiliaris_), and
passes by the village of Gharíya, joined our path.
At Wady Mʿamúra I first observed the little green bird generally called
asfír, but sometimes mesísa, which lives entirely upon the caravans as
they pass along, by picking off the vermin from the feet of the camels.
In the afternoon we observed, to our great delight, in the green patch
called el Wueshkeh, a cluster of stunted palm-trees. Hereabouts the
camel-drivers killed a considerable number of the venomous lizard called
bu-keshásh; and the Tarki in particular was resolute in not allowing
any which he saw to escape alive. After a moderate march of little more
than ten hours and a half, we encamped in a small hollow called, from a
peculiar kind of green bush growing in it, el Jederíya. A strong cold
wind, accompanied by rain, began to blow soon after we encamped. The
tent, not being sufficiently secured, was blown down in the night; and we
had some trouble in pitching it again.
Continuing our march, we passed, about ten o’clock in the morning, a
poor solitary talha-tree bearing the appellation of el Duhéda. Further
on we found truffles, which in the evening afforded us a delicious
truffle-soup. Truffles are very common in many parts of the desert; and
the greatest of Mohammedan travellers (Ebn Batúta) did not forget them
in relating his journey from Sejelmása to Waláta, in the middle of the
fourteenth century. The sky was very dark and hazy; and the moon had an
extraordinary “dára,” or halo. We slept this night without a tent, and
felt the cold very sensibly.
The march of the following day was a little enlivened by our meeting with
two small caravans: the first, of five camels; the second, belonging
to Ghadámsi people, and laden with ivory, of fifteen. With the latter
was also a woman, sitting quite comfortably in her little cage. Shortly
after half-past one o’clock in the afternoon, we had reached the highest
elevation of the Hammáda, indicated by a heap of stones called, very
significantly, Rejm el erhá, 1,568 feet above the level of the sea.
We encamped soon after, when a very heavy gale began to blow from the
north-north-west driving the swallows, which had followed our caravan,
into the tent and the holes formed by the luggage; but the poor things
found no protection, for our tent, which was light and high-topped, was
blown down again during the night, while a heavy rain accompanied the
storm, and we as well as our little guests were left awhile without
shelter, in a very uncomfortable situation.
We started rather late the following morning, entering now upon the very
dreariest part of the Hammáda, called el Hómra. So far there had been
only one track over this stony plateau; but in the afternoon a path,
called Msér ben Wáfi, branched off towards the left. This path, which
leads to the eastern parts of Wady Sháti, formed formerly the common road
to Fezzán, the road by way of el Hasi being considered as too insecure,
on account of the robberies of the Urfílla. Hence the latter is still
called the new road, “Trík el jedíd.” Richardson, who had had enough of
the inconveniences of travelling by night, easily got in advance of us
this morning, after our short march of yesterday, and had advanced a
good way by daytime. We were therefore anxious to come up with him; and
on our way we encountered a heavy shower of rain before we pitched our
tent. The whole caravan being once more united, the increased variety of
our own party relieved a good deal of the feeling of monotony arising
from the desolate character of the country through which we travelled.
After marching about seven miles, we arrived at the greenest and largest
hollow of the Hammáda, called Wady el Alga, which we ought to have
reached yesterday, in order to be able to get this day as near the well
as possible.
As it was, when we encamped in the afternoon, we had still a long day’s
march before us, and therefore the next day, from general impulse, in
order to make sure of our arrival at the well, we started at an early
hour, keeping the caravan together by repeated shouting. After a march of
about twelve miles, we reached the first passage leading down from the
Hammáda and called Tníe Twennín; but it was too steep and precipitous
for our rather heavily laden caravan, and we had to continue till we
reached the Tníe el ʿArdha, a little after eleven o’clock, when we began
to descend from the plateau along a rough winding pass. The sandstone of
which it is formed presented to us a surface so completely blackened, not
only in the unbroken walls of the ravine, but also in the immense blocks
which had been detached from the cliffs, and were lying about in great
confusion, that at first sight anybody would have taken it for basalt;
but when the stones were broken, their real nature became apparent. Over
this broad layer of sandstone, which in some places covered a bed of clay
mixed with gypsum, there was a layer of marl, and over this, forming the
upper crust, limestone and flints.
After a winding course for an hour, the narrow ravine, shut in by steep,
gloomy-looking cliffs, began to widen, and our direction varied less;
but still the whole district retained a gloomy aspect, and the bottom of
the valley was strewn with masses of black sandstone, while the country
ahead of us lay concealed in a hazy atmosphere, which did not admit of an
extensive view. Eager to reach the well, the caravan being scattered over
a great extent of ground, we three travellers, with one of the shoushes,
pushed on in advance, the south wind driving the sand, which lay in
narrow strips along the pebbly ground, into our faces. We cherished
the hope of finding a cool little grove, or at least some shade, where
we might recline at ease after our fatiguing march; but, to our great
disappointment, the sand became deeper, and nothing was to be seen but
small stunted palm-bushes. But even these ceased near the well, which was
dug in the midst of the sandy waste, and had once been protected by an
oval-shaped building, of which nothing but crumbling ruins remained.
It was a cheerless encampment after so fatiguing a march; but there was
at least no more fear of scarcity of water, for the well had an abundant
supply. No name could be more appropriate to this place than el Hasi
(the well). There is no need of any discriminating surname; it is “the
Well”—the well where the traveller who has successfully crossed the
Hammáda may be sure to quench his own thirst and that of his animals. But
it is not a cheerful resting-place, though it is the great watering-place
on this desert road, as he has to cross the fearful “burning plain”
of the Hammáda before he reaches the spot. There are several wells
hereabouts, which might easily supply with water the largest caravan in
an hour’s time; for the water is always bubbling up, and keeps the same
level.
The well at the side of which we had encamped is rather narrow and
deep, and therefore inconvenient for a large party; but it is, though
slightly, protected by the ruins around against the wind, which is often
very troublesome, and was particularly so on the evening of our arrival.
Formerly there was here a sort of fortified khan, such as is very rarely
seen in these parts, built by the tribes of the Notmán and Swaíd, in
order to protect their caravans against the pillaging parties of the
Urfílla, originally a Berber tribe. This building consisted of simple
chambers, twenty, as it seems, in number, lying round an oval court which
has entrances from north and south. It is thirty paces long by sixteen
wide, the centre being occupied by the well, which, as it is dug in the
sandy soil, bears the general name Hasi. It has a depth of five fathoms;
and its temperature was found to be 71⅗° Fahr. The quality of the water,
in comparison with that of Taboníye, was very good. The elevation of this
place was found by Overweg to be 696 feet; so that we had descended from
the highest point of the Hammáda 742 feet.
As it was, we felt heartily glad when our steady and heavy Tripolitan
tent being at length pitched, we were able to stretch ourselves without
being covered with sand. All the people were greatly fatigued, and
required repose more than anything else. Out of regard to the men as well
as to the camels, we were obliged to stay here the following day, though
the place was comfortless in the extreme, and did not offer the smallest
bit of shade. Scarcely any of our places of encampment on the whole
journey seemed to me so bad and cheerless as this. If I had had an animal
to mount, I would have gone on to a cluster of three or four date-trees,
which are said to be at the distance of about three miles west from the
well, and belong to the people of Zintán, to enjoy a little shade; but
our camels were too much distressed.