SINGULAR SCULPTURES IN THE DESERT.—THE MOUNTAIN-PASS.
_July 5._—We had to separate from the Tinýlkum, and from our luggage,
without having any certainty as to where and when we might overtake them.
The chiefs of Ghát, too, had started in advance. The country had been
rising all the way from Wady Sháraba, which seems to form the lowest
point in this whole region, and we ascended to-day very considerably.
Pushing on in advance of our little troop, and passing a small caravan,
which was laden with provisions and merchandise belonging to the
pilgrim-caravan of the Tawáti, I soon came up with Hatíta and his
companions. They were civil and kind, but the old friend of the English,
who had an eye to a new marriage with some pretty Amóshagh girl some
forty or fifty years younger than himself, gave me sundry expressive
hints that I should spare him something of my outfit,—either a pair
of pistols, or a carpet, or a bernús, or any other little article. My
refusal in no wise rendered him uncivil. While he was riding by my side,
I took the opportunity of making a slight sketch of him,—his English
gun, the gift of some previous traveller, forming a striking contrast
to his large shield of antelope-hide, ornamented with a cross. Having
crossed another valley of some extent, we descended into Wady Elghom-udé
(the Valley of the Camel), which, richly clothed with herbage, forms an
inlet in the stony plateau from north to south, and has a very cheerful
aspect. The encampment, spread over a great extent of ground, formed
quite an ethnographical museum, comprising as it did six distinct small
caravan-troops from different parts of Africa, and even of Europe.
_July 6._—A splendid morning, cool and fresh. We were happy to meet a
small caravan coming from Sudán, which brought us some important pieces
of news: first, that they had come to Ghát in the company of five men
belonging to the family of Ánnur (the chief of the Kél-owí), who, after
a short stay, would return to their country; and secondly, that the
expedition of the Kél-owí had returned from Kánem, after having totally
annihilated the Welád Slimán. They brought with them seventeen slaves,
among whom were fifteen females, one with a very engaging countenance.
After less than three miles’ march, our companions looked about in the
Wady Telísaghé for a camping-ground. The valley proved of more than
ordinary interest. It was hemmed in by steep cliffs of rock, and adorned
with some fine talha-trees. With no great reluctance we followed the
Tuarek chiefs, who kept along its steep western border, and at length
chose the camping-ground at a spot where a western branch joins the
principal wady. Scarcely had we pitched our tents, when we became aware
that the valley contained some remarkable sculptures deserving our
particular attention.
[Illustration]
The spot where we had pitched our tents afforded a very favourable
locality for commemorating any interesting events, and the sandstone
blocks which studded it were covered with drawings representing various
subjects, more or less in a state of preservation. With no pretensions to
be regarded as finished sculptures, they are made with a firm and steady
hand, well accustomed to such work, and, being cut to a great depth, bore
a totally different character from what is generally met with in these
tracts. The most interesting sculpture represented the following subject,
the description of which I am unfortunately able at present to accompany
with only an imperfect woodcut.
The sculpture represents a group of three individuals of the following
character and arrangement:—
[Illustration]
To the left is seen a tall human figure, with the head of a peculiar
kind of bull, with long horns turned forward and broken at the point;
instead of the right arm, he has a peculiar organ terminating like an
oar, while in the left hand he carries an arrow and a bow—at least such
is the appearance, though it might be mistaken for a shield; between
his legs a long tail is seen hanging down from his slender body. The
posture of this figure is bent forward, and all its movements are well
represented. Opposite to this curious individual is another one of not
less remarkable character, but of smaller proportions, entirely human
as far up as the shoulders, while the head is that of an animal which
reminds us of the Egyptian ibis, without being identical with it. The
small pointed head is furnished with three ears, or with a pair of ears
and some other excrescence, and beyond with a sort of hood (which, more
than any other particular, recalls the idea of Egyptian art), but it is
not furrowed; over the fore part of the head is a round line representing
some ornament, or perhaps the basilisk. This figure likewise has a bow in
its right hand, but, as it would seem, no arrow, while the left hand is
turned away from the body.
Between these two half-human figures, which are in a hostile attitude, is
a bullock, small in proportion to the adjacent lineaments of the human
figure, but chiselled with the same care and the same skilful hand, with
the only exception that the feet are omitted, the legs terminating in
points, a defect which I shall have occasion to notice also in another
sculpture. There is another peculiarity about this figure, the upper
part of the bull, by some accident, having been hollowed out, while in
general all the inner part between the deeply chiselled outlines of these
sculptures is left in high relief. The animal is turned with its back
towards the figure on the right, whose bow it seems about to break. The
block on which it was sculptured was about four feet in breadth, and
three in height. It was lying loose on the top of the cliff.
[Illustration]
No barbarian could have graven the lines with such astonishing firmness,
and given to all the figures the light, natural shape which they exhibit.
The Romans, who had firmly established their dominion as far as Garama,
or Jerma, might easily have sent emissaries to this point, and even
further; but the sculptures have nothing in them of a Roman character.
Some few particulars call to mind the Egyptian sculptures. But on the
whole it seems to be a representation of a subject taken from the native
mythology, executed by some one who had been in intimate relation with
the more advanced people on the coast, perhaps with the Carthaginians. Be
this as it may, it is scarcely doubtful that the subject represents two
divinities disputing over a sacrifice, and that the figure at the left is
intended for the victor.
On the cliff itself there is another sculpture on a large block which,
now that the western end is broken off, is about twelve feet long and
five feet high. The surface of the block is quite smooth, protected
as it has been, in some degree, by the block above, which projects
considerably; nevertheless the sculpture has suffered a good deal. It
bears testimony to a state of life very different from that which we are
accustomed to see now in these regions, and illustrates and confirms St.
Augustine’s statement that the ancient kings of this country made use
of bulls for their conveyance. It represents a dense group of oxen in
a great variety of positions, but all moving towards the right, where
probably, on the end of the stone which is now broken off, the pond or
well was represented from which the beasts were to be watered. Some
of these bulls are admirably executed, and with a fidelity which can
scarcely be accounted for, unless we suppose that the artist had before
his eyes the animals which he chiselled. My sketch gives only a faint
idea of the design, which is really beautiful. The only defect, as I have
already remarked above, is in the feet, which, from some reason or other,
have been negligently treated.
If we consider that the sculpture described is close to a watering-place
on the high road to Central Africa, we are reduced to the conjecture that
at that time cattle were not only common in this region, but even that
they were the common beasts of burden instead of the camel, which we here
look for in vain. Not only has the camel no place among these sculptures,
but even among the rude outlines which at a much later period have been
made on the blocks around, representing buffaloes, ostriches, and another
kind of birds, there are no camels; and it is a well-known fact that the
camel was introduced into the western part of Northern Africa at a much
later period.
[Illustration]
There was a similar group on another block of this interesting cliff, but
too much effaced to allow the particulars to be distinguished; but the
figure of an ass among the oxen was quite clear, as well as that of a
horse, which was, however, ill-drawn. Not far off, Overweg found another
sculptured stone, representing, as the annexed sketch shows, an ox
jumping through or falling into a ring or hoop, which I should suppose to
have an allegorical meaning, or to represent a sacrifice, rather than, as
Mr. Richardson thought, to represent any games of the circus. There was
a circle regularly laid with large blocks of rock, at the south-western
slope of the cliff; these, I should suspect, belong to the same, period
as the sculptures before mentioned.
To a later period belong innumerable inscriptions in Tefínagh, with which
the cliffs on the other side of the valley and overhanging the waterpond
are covered. These are mere scribblings, and are interesting merely as
they serve to render evident, by contrast, the superior merit and age of
the adjacent sculptures. It appeared to me remarkable that on this side,
where the water now principally collects, not a single drawing should be
seen; and I formed the conclusion that in more ancient times the water
collected on the other side.
The valley is formed by the junction of two branches coming from the
north, of which the western is the more considerable, being joined by
some smaller wadys. Just at the place of our encampment it changed its
direction, and extended from west to east, having run in its upper
course from north-west to south-east. After the junction, the valley
runs from north to south, and loses for a moment almost the character
of a wady, while running over pebbly ground; but it soon becomes once
more well-bordered and adorned with fine groups of talha-trees, and in
some places exhibits a river-bed eight feet deep, and still wet. Near a
shepherd’s cave there was a very luxuriant tree, under whose shade I lay
down. Towards evening the pilgrim-caravan of Haj ʿAbd el Káder, which had
delayed so long in the wady, arrived. The whole valley resounded with the
cries of the men and their camels, who were all eagerly pressing towards
the pond at the foot of the steep cliffs. Fortunately we had already laid
in a supply of water, else we should not have been able to obtain any fit
to drink.
_July 7._—Owing to the camels having strayed to a great distance, we
started at a late hour, still leaving the Tuarek chiefs behind, who
wanted to settle some business with the Tawáti, and for this purpose had
changed their dirty travelling-dress for showy caftans and bernúses. We
ascended the higher level, and continued along it, crossing some small
beds of watercourses overgrown with herbage, till, after a little more
than four miles, we had to descend into a deep and wild ravine which
led us to a vale. Having again ascended, we then came to the wide and
regular valley called Erazar-n-Hágarné, bordered by steep cliffs from
150 to 200 feet high, and richly clothed with herbage. Following the
windings of this large wady, which evidently has received its name from
the circumstance that the Hogár or Hágara pasture their camels chiefly
hereabouts, we reached the point where it is joined by the valley called
Áman sémmedné, and encamped near a fine talha-tree in order to allow
Hatíta to come up. This valley has its name from the cold water which
at times descends from the plateau in floods, of which the deeply worn
channel bears evident traces; it is joined at this place by an important
branch valley and several smaller ravines.
When the heat of the sun began to decline, I took a walk through the
valley, and being attracted by a circle laid out very regularly with
large slabs like the opening of a well, I began to ascend the steep
cliffs opposite the mouth of the valley of Áman sémmedné, rising to
a height of about 500 feet, and which, as I clearly saw, had been
repeatedly ascended. The cliffs are here, as is usual in this formation,
broken into regular strata, and steep flat blocks standing upright give
them an imposing appearance. My search here, however, led only to the
discovery of the well-chiselled form of a single bullock, in exactly the
same style as that in Wady Telísaghé, though it had suffered a little
from its exposed situation; but the whole appearance of the locality
shows that in former times it contained more of this kind. On the plain
above the cliffs is another circle regularly laid out, and, like the
many circles seen in Cyrenaica and in other parts of Northern Africa,
evidently connected with the religious rites of the ancient inhabitants
of these regions. Quartz pebbles were scattered about this part of the
valley.
Our people meanwhile had been busy laying in provision of dry herbage for
the next marches, during which we were told our camels would scarcely
find anything to feed upon; and our Tuarek friends, when they at length
arrived for their supper, did the same.
The caravan of the Tawáti having passed by our encampment at an early
hour, we followed betimes, having an interesting day’s march before
us. For the first three miles we still kept along the large valley,
into which masses of sand had been driven down from the plateau by
the strong east winds; further on it became dry and bare. To this
succeeded an irregular knot of hollows and plains between the sides
of the plateau, which in some places formed imposing promontories and
detached buttresses, all on one and the same level. We then began to
ascend along a sort of broad valley, which gradually assumed a regular
shape, and bore the name of Tísi. The slope of the plateau was shaped
into regular strata, the uppermost of which form steep precipices like
the wall of a castle; the lower ones slope, down more gradually. Here we
discovered ahead of us, at the foot of the southern slope, the encampment
of the pilgrim-caravan, who were resting during the heat of the day.
We continued our march, always ascending, till a little after noon we
reached the edge of the pass, a perfect watershed, of more than 2,000
feet elevation, descending more gradually towards the east as far as the
well of Sháraba, while towards the west is formed a steep precipice,
passable only along a most interesting gully cut into it by the water
towards the Valley of Ghát. The higher level, which rises above the pass
about 300 feet, seems to be considerably depressed in this place, where
it collects large floods of water, such as could alone cut the remarkably
wild passage through the sandstone cliffs which we were about to descend:
it is called Rálle.
The first part of it was more rough than wild, and the cliffs of the
sandstone rather rugged and split than precipitous and grand; but after
half an hour’s descent it bore evident traces of the waters that descend
from the heights, and which being here collected into one mighty stream,
with enormous power, force their way down through a narrow channel. The
defile was here encompassed by rocky walls about a hundred feet high,
half of which consisted of sandstone, while the other half was formed by
a thick deposit of marl; and a little further down it was not more than
six feet wide, and the floor and the walls were as smooth as if they had
been cut by the hand of man; but the course of the defile was rather
winding and not at all in a straight line, forming altogether a pass
easily to be defended by a very small power, and affording the Tuarek
a stronghold against any designs of conquest on the side of the Turks,
although it does not form the frontier, but is regarded as entirely
belonging to Fezzán. At the narrowest point Tuarek as well as Arab
travellers had recorded their names.
Where the channel began to widen there were some curious narrow gaps or
crevices on both sides, the one to the right, with its smooth rounded
surface, bearing a great similarity to the famous Ear of Dionysius in
Syracuse. The walls contained strata of chalk and ironstone, and Overweg
found here some interesting petrifactions. The crevice to the left was
less deep, and rather resembled a cell or chamber.
Having here waited some time for the boat to come up, we started
together, but had still to get through two more narrow passes of the
wady, and at four o’clock in the afternoon entered another very narrow
defile, the steep cliffs forming it being covered with inscriptions.
At length, after a descent of altogether four hours, we emerged into
the open plain some 600 feet below, and had a wide view of the high
precipitous cliffs of the plateau, stretching out in several buttresses
into the plain, which is interrupted only by detached hills. Amongst
these was a rather remarkable one upon a terrace-like base, and opening
with three caverns towards the roadside. Ascending the terrace, I found
the westernmost of the caverns vaulted, as if by art, in the shape of
a large niche, but it was a little filled with sand; I found, however,
no inscriptions nor anything but four round holes, about nine inches in
diameter, hollowed out in a slab on the terrace in front of the cavern.
Beyond this hill, where Hatíta told us that he had once passed the heat
of the day with ʿAbd Allah (Clapperton) and the tabíb (Oudney), the
country is quite open towards the north. About sunset we encamped in the
deep Erazar-n-Tese; there were a few talha-trees and some herbage.
The following day our route lay over the dreary plain, where nothing
but the varied form of the rocky buttresses projecting from the plateau
into the plain interrupted the monotony of the prospect. Near the slope
the country seems a little less desolate, and the valley Támelelt, which
extends between two of the promontories, has even a great reputation
among the natives. In the afternoon we entered a sandy region, when we
began to ascend gradually till we reached the summit of the sand-hills.
We then continued on the higher level, where chalk protruded to the
surface. After a long march we encamped on stony ground, covered only
with a scanty growth of sebót.
On the 10th we descended a good deal from this higher ground. At first
the descent was gradual; but beyond the valley In-kássewa, which, running
through high rocky ground, is not so poor in herbage, we descended about
two hundred feet by steep terraces, having before us the peculiarly
serrated crest of the Akakús, and in front of it some lower offshoots
covered with sand. The bottom of the plain was a broad and entirely naked
level, with hard calcareous soil, surrounded by irregular half-decayed
hilly ridges. It forms the boundary between Fezzán and the country of the
Hogár. The character of the country underwent no change till we reached
the valley Telíga, where, at an early hour in the afternoon, we encamped
near a group of talha-trees, not far from the well, and remained for the
next two days at an elevation of 1,435 feet.
The valley is very shallow, now and then interrupted by some sand-hills
and adorned with some fine specimens of the ethel-tree, while broad
strips of herbage cover the more favoured spots. It runs north-west,
nearly parallel with the range of the Akakús, which remained at a
distance of three miles. It joins the valley Ilághlaghén, which again
unites with the Titábtarén; and this valley runs towards a favoured spot
called Sérdales, which we were unfortunately prevented from visiting, as
Hatíta thought we should be annoyed by the begging propensities of the
people. Copious springs, from which the whole locality takes the name
of el Awenát, irrigate and fertilize the soil, and support a village
of about the same size as Tigger-odé, inhabited by about a hundred
families, while in the gardens corn, melons, and ghédeb are produced in
tolerable quantity. The water of the springs is said to be warm. We saw
a party of Hágara from that place, who called on our friends; they were
fine men and neatly dressed.
The water of our well was not very good; from being at first discoloured,
it gradually acquired a taste like that of ink, and when boiled with
tea became entirely black. Late in the evening our best and most steady
servant, Mohammed from Gatrón, was wounded, but whether stung by a
scorpion or bitten by a snake he knew not, and was much alarmed. We
applied spirits of hartshorn to the wound; but he was very ill for the
next twenty-four hours, and totally disabled, so that we were obliged to
bind him on the camel during the next day’s march.
_July 13._—There had been much talk for some days to the effect that
we travellers, together with Hatíta, should take the nearer but more
difficult road to Ghát across the range, while our luggage should go by
the longer but smoother road round the mountains; but it was at length
decided that we should all go by the longer road, and none but the
Sfaksi, who was anxious to overtake the caravan as soon as possible,
took the more difficult path, which, for geological observations,
might have proved the more interesting. Going sometimes on pebbly, at
others on sandy ground, after five miles we reached the shallow valley,
Ilághlaghén, running from east to west, and handsomely overgrown with
bushes; and after another stretch of about the same length, we entered
the range of mountains, consisting of remarkably cragged and scarred
rocks, with many narrow defiles. Altogether it presented a very curious
spectacle.
When the rocks assumed a smoother appearance, we suddenly descended into
a deep ravine, which, at the first glance, appeared to be of a volcanic
nature; but, on closer inspection, all the black rocks composing these
dismal-looking cliffs, proved to consist of sandstone, blackened by
the influence of the atmosphere; further on it was disposed in regular
strata very much like slate. The western and highest part of the range
seems to consist of clay-slate. The valley changed its character in some
degree after its junction with a side-valley called Tipérkum, which bears
distinct marks of great floods occasionally descending along its channel
from the mountains. Here we collected some firewood, as we were told that
further on we should find none, and then entered a defile or glen with
an ascent of about a hundred feet above the bottom of the valley. Beyond
this the scene grew more open, and irregular plains, interrupted by steep
buttresses, succeeded each other.
At half-past four o’clock in the afternoon we had gradually begun to
change our direction from north-west by west to south. The valley was
bordered by a deep chasm and craggy mountain to the right, and a range
of grotesque promontories towards the left, the slope of which was
broken into a variety of terraces, with several cones rising from them.
At length, turning round the edge of the mountain range, we entered the
broad valley of Tánesof, having before us the isolated and castellated
crest of Mount Ídinen, or Kasr Jenún, and on our left the long range of
the Akakús, beautifully illuminated by the setting sun, and forming a
sort of relief in various colours, the highest precipitous crest, with
its castles and towers, being white, while the lower slope, which was
more gradual and rugged, disclosed regular strata of red marl. Towards
the west the valley, about five miles broad, was bordered by sand-hills,
whence the sand was carried by the wind over its whole surface. We
ourselves encamped at length on sandy soil without the least herbage,
while at the distance of about two miles a strip of green was seen
running along the valley.
[Illustration: SKETCH OF THE IDINEN.]
Starting at an early hour the next day, we kept along the broad barren
valley straight for the Enchanted Castle, which the fanciful reports
of our companions had invested with great interest. Notwithstanding,
or perhaps in consequence of, the warnings of the Tuarek not to risk
our lives in so irreligious and perilous an undertaking as a visit to
this dwelling of the demons, I made up my mind to visit it, convinced
as I was that it was an ancient place of worship, and that it might
probably contain some curious sculptures or inscriptions. Just at noon
the naked bottom of the valley began to be covered with a little herbage,
when, after another mile, beyond a depression in the ground which had
evidently at one time formed a considerable water-pond, talha-trees and
ethel-bushes broke the monotony of the landscape, while between the
sand-hills on our right a broad strip of green was seen, coming from
the westernmost corner of the Ídinen. Keeping still on for about five
miles, we encamped in the midst of a shallow concavity of circular shape,
surrounded by herbage, and near a large mound crowned by an ethel-tree.
At some distance south-east we had the well Táhala, the water of which
proved very good. As it was too late to visit the Ídinen to-day, I sat
down in the shade of a fine talha, and made the subjoined sketch of it.
In the evening we received a visit from two men belonging to a caravan
laden with merchandise of Ghadamsíyin (people of Ghadámes), which was
said to have come, by the direct road through the wady, in thirty days
from Tripoli.
_July 15._—This was a _dies ater_ for me. Overweg and I had determined to
start early in the morning for the remarkable mountain; but we had not
been able to obtain from the Tuarek a guide to conduct us from thence to
the next well, whither the caravan was to proceed by the direct road.
Hatíta and Utaeti having again resisted all our solicitations for a
guide, I at length, determined as I was to visit the mountain at any
cost, started off in the confidence of being able to make out the well
in the direction indicated to me. By ill-luck, our provision of zummíta
(a cool and refreshing paste on which we were accustomed to breakfast)
was exhausted the day before, so that I was obliged to take with me dry
biscuit and dates, the worst possible food in the desert when water is
scarce.
But as yet I needed no stimulus, and vigorously pushed my way through
the sand-hills, which afforded no very pleasant passage. I then entered
a wide, bare, desolate-looking plain, covered with black pebbles,
from which arose a few black mounds. Here I crossed the beginning of
a _fiumara_ richly overgrown with herbage, which wound along through
the sand-hills towards the large valley-plain. It was the abode of a
beautiful pair of maraiya (_Antelope Soemmeringii_), which, probably
anxious for their young ones, did not make off when roused by my
approach, but stopped at a short distance, gazing at me and wagging their
tails. Pursuing my way over the pebbly ground, which gradually rose till
it was broken up by a considerable ravine descending from the western
part of the mount, I disturbed another party of three antelopes, which
were quietly lying down under the cover of some large blocks. At last
I began to feel fatigued from walking over the sharp-pointed pebbles,
as the distance proved to be greater than I had originally imagined,
and I did not seem to have got much nearer to the foot of the Enchanted
Mountain. In fact it proved that the crest of the mount formed a sort of
horseshoe, so that its middle part, for which I had been steering all
the time, in order to gain a depression which seemed to afford an easy
ascent, was by far the remotest. I therefore changed my course and turned
more eastward, but only met with more annoyance, for, ascending the slope
which I hoped would soon convey me to the summit, I suddenly came to the
steep precipice of a deep ravine, which separated me from the crest.
Being already fatigued, the disappointment, of course, depressed my
spirits, and I had to summon all my resolution and energy in order to
descend into the ravine and climb the other side. It was now past ten
o’clock; the sun began to put forth its full power, and there was not
the slightest shade around me. In a state of the utmost exhaustion I at
length reached the narrow pinnacled crest, which was only a few feet
broad, and exhibited neither inscriptions nor sculptures. I had a fine
prospect towards the south-west and north-east, but I looked around in
vain for any traces of our caravan. Though exposed to the full rays
of the sun, I lay down on my high barbacan to seek repose; but my dry
biscuit or a date was quite unpalatable, and being anxious about my
little provision of water, I could only sip an insufficient draught from
my small water-skin. As the day advanced I feared that our little band,
thinking that I was already in advance, might continue their march in
the afternoon, and, in spite of my weakness, determined to try to reach
the encampment. I therefore descended the ravine, in order to follow its
course, which, according to Hatíta’s indications, would lead me in the
direction of the well. It was very hot, and being thirsty, I swallowed
at once the little water that remained. This was about noon, and I soon
found that the draught of mere water, taken upon an empty stomach, had
not at all restored my strength.
At length I reached the bottom of the valley. Hatíta had always talked
as if they were to encamp at no great distance from the mountain; yet,
as far as I could strain my view, no living being was to be seen. At
length I became puzzled as to my direction, and hurrying on as fast as
my failing strength would allow, I ascended a mound crowned with an
ethel-bush, and fired my pistols; but I waited in vain for an answer:
a strong east wind was blowing dead against me. Reflecting a moment
on my situation, I then crossed the small sand-hills, and, ascending
another mound, fired again. Convinced that there could be nobody in this
direction, at least at a moderate distance, I bethought myself that our
party might be still behind, and, very unluckily, I kept more directly
eastward.
The valley was here very richly overgrown with sebót, and to my great
delight I saw at a distance some small huts attached to branches of the
ethel-tree, covered on the top with sebót, and open in front. With joy
in my heart I hastened on towards them, but found them empty; and not a
living being was to be seen, nor was there a drop of water to be got. My
strength being now exhausted, I sat down on the naked plain, with a full
view before me of the whole breadth of the wady, and with some confidence
expected the caravan. I even thought, for a moment, that I beheld a
string of camels passing in the distance. But it was an illusion; and
when the sun was about to set, not being able to muster strength enough
to walk a few paces without sitting down, I had only to choose for my
night’s quarters between the deserted huts and an ethel-tree which I saw
at a little distance. I chose the latter, as being on a more elevated
spot, and therefore scrambled to the tree, which was of a respectable old
age, with thick tall branches, but almost leafless. It was my intention
to light a fire, which promised almost certain deliverance; but I could
not muster sufficient strength to gather a little wood. I was broken down
and in a feverish state.
Having lain down for an hour or two, after it became quite dark I arose
from the ground, and, looking around me, descried, to my great joy, a
large fire south-west down the valley, and, hoping that it might be that
of my companions, I fired a pistol, as the only means of communicating
with them, and listened as the sound rolled along, feeling sure that
it would reach their ears; but no answer was returned. All remained
silent. Still I saw the flame rising towards the sky, and telling where
deliverance was to be found, without my being able to avail myself of the
signal. Having waited long in vain, I fired a second time—yet no answer.
I lay down in resignation, committing my life to the care of the Merciful
One; but it was in vain that I tried to sleep, and, restless and in a
high fever, I tossed about on the ground, looking with anxiety and fear
for the dawn of the next day.
At length the long night wore away, and dawn was drawing nigh. All was
repose and silence, and I was sure I could not choose a better time for
trying to inform my friends, by signal, of my whereabouts. I therefore
collected all my strength, loaded my pistol with a heavy charge, and
fired—once—twice. I thought the sound ought to awaken the dead from their
tombs, so powerfully did it reverberate from the opposite range and roll
along the wady; yet no answer. I was at a loss to account for the great
distance apparently separating me from my companions, who seemed not to
have heard my firing.
The sun that I had half longed for, half looked forward to with terror,
at last rose. My condition, as the heat went on increasing, became more
dreadful; and I crawled around, changing every moment my position,
in order to enjoy the little shade afforded by the leafless branches
of the tree. About noon there was of course scarcely a spot of shade
left—only enough for my head—and I suffered greatly from the pangs of
thirst, although I sucked a little of my blood till I became senseless,
and fell into a sort of delirium, from which I only recovered when the
sun went down behind the mountains. I then regained some consciousness,
and crawled out of the shade of the tree, throwing a melancholy glance
over the plain, when suddenly I heard the cry of a camel. It was the
most delightful music I ever heard in my life; and raising myself a
little from the ground, I saw a mounted Tarki passing at some distance
from me, and looking eagerly around. He had found my footsteps in the
sandy ground, and losing them again on the pebbles, was anxiously
seeking traces of the direction I had taken. I opened my parched mouth,
and crying, as loud as my faint strength allowed, “Áman, áman” (Water,
water), I was rejoiced to get for answer “Íwah! íwah!” and in a few
moments he sat at my side, washing and sprinkling my head, while I broke
out involuntarily into an uninterrupted strain of “El hamdu lilláhi! el
hamdu lilláhi!”
Having thus first refreshed me, and then allowed me a draught, which,
however, I was not able to enjoy, my throat being so dry, and my fever
still continuing, my deliverer, whose name was Musa, placed me upon his
camel, mounted himself in front of me, and brought me to the tents. They
were a good way off. The joy of meeting again, after I had been already
despaired of, was great; and I had to express my sincere thanks to my
companions, who had given themselves so much trouble to find me. But I
could speak but little at first, and could scarcely eat anything for the
next three days, after which I gradually recovered my strength. It is,
indeed, very remarkable how quickly the strength of a European is broken
in these climes, if for a single day he be prevented from taking his
usual food. Nevertheless I was able to proceed the next day (the 17th),
when we kept more towards the slope of the Akakús, and here passed a
broad lateral valley, rich in herbage, called Ádar-n-jelkum, after which
we descended about a hundred feet, from the pebbly ground into sandy soil
forming a sort of valley called Ighelfannís, and full of ethel-trees and
sebót. In such a locality we encamped two hours after noon, near splendid
ethel-trees; but the strong north-easterly wind, enveloping ourselves and
baggage in thick clouds of sand, banished all enjoyment.
_July 18._—We continued our march with the sure expectation of soon
reaching Ghát, the second great station on our journey. The valley after
some time became free from ethel-trees, and opened a view of the little
town, situated at the north-western foot of a rocky eminence jutting
out into the valley, and girt by sand-hills on the west. Its plantation
extends in a long strip towards south-south-west, while another group,
formed by the plantation and by the noble-looking mansion of Háj Ahmed,
appears towards the west. Here we were joined by Mohammed Sheríf, a
nephew of Háj Ahmed, in a showy dress, and well mounted on a horse; and
we separated from Hatíta in order to take our way round the north side of
the hill, so as to avoid exciting the curiosity and importunity of the
townspeople. But a good many boys came out of the town, and exhibited
quite an interesting scene as they recognized Yakúb (Mr. Richardson),
who had visited this place on his former journey. Many people came out
to see us, some offering us their welcome, others remaining indifferent
spectators.
Thus we reached the new plantation of Háj Ahmed, the Governor, as he is
called, of Ghát, and found, at the entrance of the outbuilding, which had
been destined for our use, the principal men of the town, who received us
with great kindness and politeness. The most interesting among them was
Háj Ahmed himself, a man of grave and dignified manners, who, although
a stranger to the place, and a native of Tawát, has succeeded, through
his address and his mercantile prosperity, in obtaining for himself here
an almost princely position, and has founded in reality a new town,
with large and splendid improvements, by the side of the old city. His
situation as Governor of Ghát, in reference, and in some degree in
opposition, to the Tuarek chiefs, is a very peculiar one, and requires,
on his part, a good deal of address, patience, and forbearance. I am
convinced that when we first arrived he did not view us with displeasure,
but, on the contrary, was greatly pleased to receive under his roof
a mission of Her Britannic Majesty’s Government, with whose immense
influence and power, and the noble purpose of whose policy, he was not
entirely unacquainted; but his extraordinary and precarious situation
did not allow him to act freely, and besides I cannot say that he
received from us so warm an acknowledgment as his conduct in the first
instance seemed to deserve.
[Illustration]
Besides him, the chief parties in our first conversation were his nephew
Ahmed Mohammed Sheríf (the man who came to meet us), a clever but forward
lad, of pleasant manners—whom in the course of my travels I met several
times in Sudán—and Mohammed Káfa, a cheerful, good-humoured man. Our
quarters, of which the accompanying woodcut gives the ground-plan, were
certainly neither airy nor agreeable, but the hot sand wind which blew
without made them appear to us quite tolerable.