Tidings of war. Two months’ hunting. Yolo antelopes. Reed-rats.
Habits of the Aulacodus. River oysters. Soliman’s arrival.
Advancing season. Execution of a rebel. Return to Ghattas’s
Seriba. Disgusting population. Allagabo. Alarm of fire. Strange
evolutions of hartebeests. Nubian cattle raids. Traitors
among the natives. Remains of Shol’s huts. Lepers and slaves.
Ambiguous slave-trading. Down the Gazelle. The Balæniceps again.
Dying hippopotamus. Invocation of saints. Disturbance at night.
False alarm. Taken in tow. The Mudir’s camp. Crowded boats.
Confiscation of slaves. Surprise in Fashoda. Slave caravans on
the bank. Arrival in Khartoom. Telegram to Berlin. Seizure of my
servants. Remonstrance with the Pasha. Mortality in the fever
season. Tikkitikki’s death. Θάλαττα. θάλαττα.
The first boats had reached the Meshera early in the year, and the
number of soldiers in the Seriba kept continually increasing by the
arrival of fresh contingents from Khartoom. The firms of Ghattas and
Kurshook Ali seemed both to have a sharp look-out for business, for one
of them had collected forty and the other seventy-eight fresh idlers
as recruits. Their arrival gave new life to the Seribas; friends and
relatives who had not met for years exchanged greetings and recounted
mutual experiences, whilst news from Khartoom was eagerly circulated
and as eagerly received.
For myself there was a collection of little notes sent by a friend at
Khartoom that could not do otherwise than excite my keenest interest.
They were six months old, but not the less on that account did they
stimulate my curiosity: in them I read, in sentences that were almost
as crisp and brief as telegrams, of the startling events of the
previous autumn. Naturally I turned to my letters from home, hoping to
gather further particulars of the strange occurrences that had thus
been partially unfolded, but I found that these letters had all been
written a year ago, whilst peace still prevailed throughout Europe,
and that they only referred to ordinary and commonplace topics. So
incomplete, therefore, were the intimations that I received of all that
had transpired since November 1869, that the events all remained an
enigma to me which I could very imperfectly comprehend. It is true that
I had come across slave-traders in the west who had recently arrived
overland from Khartoom, and who had plenty to tell of what was going
on in the Soudan, but not a syllable fell from their lips about the
great war of the Franks, for who besides myself was interested in the
least in the fall of the Emperor of the French, or who cared either to
hear or to relate the victories of the Germans? Although when I visited
Khartoom many months had elapsed since the fall of Magdala, yet near as
it was to the seat of war, the intelligence of the Abyssinian campaign
even then had scarcely reached the town.
Meagre as were the details of my latest intelligence, it may be
imagined that they roused me to the greatest excitement, so that it was
with the most feverish expectation that I awaited the arrival of a son
of Kurshook Ali, who would bring definite tidings as to whether there
was peace or war in Europe.
As it had been my intention to return home immediately after my
Niam-niam tour, I had given no orders in the previous year for any
quantity of fresh stores to be sent me from Khartoom; consequently the
boats that now arrived had brought me nothing beyond the few articles
that I knew would be necessary on my passage down the river; these
inconsiderable things, meanwhile, had been left at the Meshera; but
after the hardships of the last few months, I felt that the possession
of the merest trifles would be an incalculable boon to me. Pending the
arrival of this little addition to my present means, I had still to
endure some weeks of poverty; then for a short period after receiving
it I enjoyed a brief season of comparative comfort until once more,
when the scanty stock was exhausted, I relapsed for the rest of my
sojourn in the country into a state of destitution more distressing
than ever.
The two months that I spent in Khalil’s huts were passed almost
entirely in hunting. Not only was the abundance of game about the
valley of the Dyoor a great inducement to sport, but such was my
nervous condition that continual exertion was the only thing that
made my life endurable. I found walking to be the best antidote to
depression and the most effectual remedy for headache and languor; and
it was only during the hours that I passed in the wilderness that any
of my former energy returned. Whenever I found myself within the walls
of my hut I was conscious of nothing but weariness and dejection and
was only fit for lounging on my bed; it was but rarely that my love of
sketching from nature in any degree diverted me or gave me its wonted
amusement.
[Sidenote: ANTELOPE-HUNTING.]
Khalil had lent me a capital gun, a weapon specially suited for
antelope-shooting, that did me good service. During the months of
March and April I brought down as many as five-and-twenty head of the
larger kinds of game, including amongst them specimens of nearly all
the different species of antelopes that the fauna of the country could
boast. The number of caama and leucotis antelopes appeared little short
of inexhaustible. The flesh of the leucotis served as a substitute for
beef and mutton, both of which at that time were exceedingly scarce in
all the Seribas. I had no butter or lard of any description, but the
meat was very palatable when simply boiled in water. The lean goats’
meat, with its soapy flavour, was the only alternative, and that after
awhile became utterly loathsome to me. For a long time I had had no
vegetables at my meals, and indeed for months I had lived without any
vegetable diet at all with the exception of some sorghum cakes.
During this period I met with an antelope (_A. arundinacea_) of a
species that I had never seen before. The Bongo called it “yolo,”
and although it appeared to me to differ from the leucotis merely by
having horns of about one-third the length, the natives insisted that
it was quite distinct; upon closer investigation I could not help
acknowledging that the people were right, and that several marks of
distinction did really exist: in the first place, the head of the
“yolo” is all of one colour; in the next, it is deficient in the black
stripe along the hind leg which is always seen in the leucotis; and
the lower joints in the hind legs are never black, but of the same
brown colour as the rest of the body. Again, the two animals are
distinguished by their habit, for while the “yolos” are found only
in pairs frequenting the bush forests in the vicinity of the rivers,
the leucotis are observed in groups (sometimes even in large herds
of several dozen), and haunt, not the forests, but the open valleys
through which the rivers flow. It was highly interesting to notice the
keen accuracy with which the instinct of the natives had taught them
to discriminate between species of which the general resemblances were
so predominating; the droppings of the animals as they move from place
to place are quite sufficient to enable these observers of nature to
distinguish one kind of antelope from another.
[Illustration: Hunting reed-rats.]
[Sidenote: HUNTING REED-RATS.]
I was informed that the end of February was the best time of the year
for hunting reed-rats (_Aulacodus Swinderianus_). Accordingly one day
I arranged an excursion to the Dyoor, and engaging a number of natives
who were used to the sport to bring their lances and to beat up the
game, I set off under their guidance to the spot that they considered
the most promising. At that season of the year, when all the grass was
so thoroughly dry, it did not seem as though it could be a matter of
much difficulty to kill almost unlimited numbers of these reed-rats,
if only they could be got at; and so in fact it proved: in the course
of the day we killed no less than ten, but nearly all of them were so
damaged by the merciless use of the lances or by the teeth of the dogs
that they were of no use at all for any scientific purpose. The method
of hunting, it must be confessed, is somewhat rough. As soon as a spot
is discovered frequented by the animals, a ring of the tall grass is
set alight, so that escape is rendered impossible, and every one of the
poor brutes within the circle of flame is compelled to show itself. The
reed-rats invariably keep in concealment until the very last moment,
and when finally they make an attempt to escape they get their feet so
scorched and their coats so singed that it is very difficult to secure
a perfect specimen; they are in this respect like the wild hares of
the deserts, which are subject to the delusion that however close at
hand then pursuers may be, they may still be safe by remaining quiet
in their hiding-places; as soon as they are obliged to quit them they
get killed by stones and clubs. In many parts where the grass that had
survived the steppe-burning was unusually thick, the Dyoor had only to
thrust in their spears at random and they had every chance of spearing
one of the reed-rats. The case is pretty much the same in the various
pools full of fish left by the subsidence of the river.
The Aulacodus finds a habitat in all the tropical regions of the
continent; it is ordinarily found in the neighbourhood of brooks and
rivers, burying itself in deep holes amidst the reeds; when, however,
it is in search of its food it will wander away to a considerable
distance from its place of concealment, and thus allow the hunters
a chance of killing it. The larger rivers are the natural channels
for the wanderings of the creature, its movements in the water being
assisted by its hind feet being furnished with webs; but these webs,
it is to be observed, are not perfectly developed; they do not stretch
across from toe to toe in straight lines, but go in curves that vary
considerably in their stretch. On account of this peculiarity Th. von
Heuglin has suggested that the reed-rat found on the Gazelle River
should be classified as _A. semipalmatus_, to distinguish it from the
species of the Zambesi and Gambia, which is entirely wanting in the
webbed foot.
A full-grown reed-rat is never less than twenty inches in length, but
a third of this must be assigned to the rat-like tail, which is coated
over with thin hair, nearly black on the top and light grey underneath.
The snout, throat, breast, and belly are covered with hair almost as
prickly as the bristles of a young hedgehog, light grey in colour; on
the back and sides the colour is shaded down to a brownish hue, that
is to say, the grey hairs are tipped with a lightish tan-brown. In
February the half-grown animals shed their bristles and acquire an
entirely new coat. The skin is about an eighth of an inch thick, but is
quite soft, and may easily be torn; it is lined with a uniform layer
of fat. The meat is excellent when roasted; it is rich, and without
being sweet and insipid like that of the rock rabbit, it is free from
any unpleasant flavour; in quality it is about equal to poultry, whilst
in taste it may be described as being intermediate between veal and
pork. As a cloven-footed animal, without horns and non-ruminant, the
Nubians of course consider it to be unclean; but the Mohammedans of
the steppes and deserts are not so scrupulous; to the Baggara and the
Foorians a roast reed-rat is as great a delicacy as a hare is to the
Bishareen and Hadendoa. Amongst the natives of the Nubian towns and
Nile-valley the Far-el-boos (as the reed-rat is called in Arabic) gives
rise to a good deal of mutual banter, and in times of dearth they
jocosely charge one another with eating reed-rats on the sly.
[Illustration: Far-el-boos. (_Aulacodus Swinderianus._)]
[Sidenote: THE FAR-EL-BOOS.]
The food of the Aulacodus consists, I believe, of the aromatic
rhizomes of certain kinds of grass that grow in the depressions of the
rivers; but as I only judge from the green finely-minced particles that
were contained in the stomach, I am unable to speak positively on this
point. The natives esteem the contents of the stomach as a special
delicacy; and my dogs, that were generally dainty enough to reject rats
and mice, greedily devoured all the entrails.
Tikkitikki, armed with his bow and arrows, was an eager participator in
our sport. He declared that reed-rats are never found in the land of
the Monbuttoo, but are perfectly well known to all the Niam-niam, who
call them “remooh,” or “alimooh.” In common with many other Africans,
the Niam-niam often adopt the practice of burying their stores of
ivory (either as a protection from the disasters of war or from the
chance of fire) in the damp soil of the swamps, which are the haunts
of the Aulacodus; the ivory forms just the substance that meets the
requirements of the animal for sharpening and grinding down its front
teeth, and consequently gets gnawed in every direction.
Khalil required 300 bearers to convey his stores from the Meshera,
but as these could not be collected in a day, and as the prevailing
scarcity made it impossible to maintain any others beyond the soldiers
that were already in the Seribas, the new-comers were turned out to
pick up what they could for themselves from amongst the neighbouring
Dinka until the entire troop could be got together. A good many days
elapsed before the great caravan was complete; and, in the meantime,
the soldiers who had already started were having continual conflicts
with the Dinka, who were resolved not to part with their corn without a
struggle.
[Sidenote: DIFFICULTIES OF TRANSPORT.]
On the 4th of March 200 of Ghattas’s Bongo bearers arrived at the
Seriba on their way to carry corn to the Turkish camp. All their loads
put together would hardly have amounted to twenty ardebs. Hopelessly
stupid are the people; it roused my indignation to think how, in spite
of the hard and level roads that were established during the dry
season, they had never introduced a single vehicle of any description
into the country. Thirty hand-barrows or three bullock-waggons would
have amply sufficed to convey the whole of the corn, and yet they
employed these 200 bearers, who, during the twenty-four days that they
would be on their journey to their destination and back, would, at the
very lowest computation, consume as much as forty ardebs of durra,
just double the quantity they had to deliver. The extortions of the
Government are thus, in the course of the year, three or four times as
great as they need be; the troops may require some 600 ardebs of corn,
but in procuring this, at least another 600 ardebs would be wasted,
to say nothing about the reckless and lavish expenditure of time and
strength which is thrown away upon the proceedings. I cannot help
repeating these details, in order to show to what a senseless system
of robbery these negro-countries are exposed as soon as ever they come
within the grasp of Mohammedan rule.
In March the natives employ themselves in fishing. Towards the middle
of the month the numerous backwaters and swamp-channels that have been
left by the Dyoor are separated into independent basins by means of
dams, that may be seen thrown up in all directions across the intricate
ramifications of the water; when these basins have been thoroughly
drained, the fish are left lying above, or just embedded in the mud
and slime, and may easily be taken with the hand. All the inhabitants
of the district were in some measure concerned in the fishing of the
Dyoor, and it afforded me a pleasant diversion, when I was out on my
hunting-excursions, to stop awhile and watch the artifices by which
they contrive to entrap the fish.
At the part of the river which, being deep, was frequented by
hippopotamuses, the right-hand bank was more than fifteen feet high,
and rose perpendicularly from the water; the upper section of the
soil of the bank was a ferruginous clay which went down to a depth
of eight feet, below which was a broad white stripe some four feet
thick, resting upon the gneiss that apparently was the substratum of
the entire alluvium of the river-valley. The white stripe of the soil
had a chalky look, and contained fragments of quartz; it consisted of
a crumbling product of felspar, such as may frequently be seen, under
similar circumstances, in the hollows of other river-courses and brooks
throughout the country.
In all parts of the dry sandy bed may be found the shells of the
river-oyster (_Etheria Cailliaudii_), which is wanting in none of the
affluents of the Upper Nile, and is known to the Niam-niam as the
“mohperre.” In the deeper parts of the bed of the Dyoor these oysters
exist in groups, adhering firmly to blocks of swamp-ore that, having
become detached from the top of the banks, have fallen into the river,
and so are permanently under water. While the Etheria is young, the
shell is almost circular, but as it increases in age, it becomes
elongated and irregular, and occasionally attains the extraordinary
length of eighteen inches. The flavour of this mollusk is rather sweet
and mawkish, and to me particularly unpleasant.
On the 20th, my temporary abode was very considerably enlivened by the
arrival of Soliman, the owner of the Seriba, the eldest son of the late
Kurshook Ali. He was quite a young man, and entirely inexperienced in
the management of the extensive property that he had recently inherited
from his father. It is matter of notoriety that whenever an Oriental
proceeds on his travels he takes a large supply of his luxuries with
him; thus it happens that his valuable baggage, consisting of clothes,
weapons, and harness, as well as his horses, makes it especially worth
while to waylay him and plunder him of his wealth. From this disaster
Kurshook Ali had been spared during his life, but no sooner was he
dead than, as I have already had occasion to mention, his successor
in office appropriated all his effects and proceeded to dispose of
them in the open market to the best bidders. It was on this account
that the son of the deceased Sandjak had been induced to undertake
this laborious journey in person, and he arrived at the Seriba with
the double purpose of saving whatever residue there might be of his
father’s property and of exacting an account from Ahmed Aga of what
already had been sold.
[Sidenote: SOLIMAN.]
With much pleasure I still remember my first meeting with Soliman, and
can yet recall the eager curiosity with which I turned the conversation
to the position of the European Powers. As he was the chief of a great
mercantile firm, and consequently associated with the more educated
class of Khartoomers, I quite hoped that he would be able to give me
some decisive political intelligence; but all the information that I
could obtain from him was that when he left Khartoom in January, no
announcement of peace had reached that town.
Old Khalil, who had never been out of the negro-countries for fifteen
years, was just as ignorant of political matters as the lowest of
his countrymen; not only had he to ask what was the name of the
Governor-General of Khartoom, but he seemed to be quite unconscious
that Egypt was in any degree an independent country. Most of the people
were quite unacquainted with the name of the Khedive in power, and
I heard some of them ask what the Pasha was called in Cairo; of one
thing, however, they said they were perfectly sure, namely, that Abdul
Aziz was the sovereign who ruled over all the believers, and that all
the kings of the Franks were his vassals; it was true, they confessed,
that the Emperor of Moscow, some years ago, had the audacity to pretend
that he was independent; but now, thanks to the fidelity of the great
Sultan’s vassals, he was very glad to eat humble-pie, just as it had
happened before with Buonaparte, the “Sultan-el-Kebir.”
Such was the ignorance of the Soudanese; and the few sentences that I
have recorded will serve for an epitome of their political knowledge.
When they heard me talking to Soliman about peace and war in the
land of the Franks, they wanted to learn what sort of people the
Prussians (the “Borusli”) were. Soliman answered them with the greatest
_naiveté_. He described Prussia as a “country with very few people,”
meaning to imply that it was about the smallest of the great Powers.
“And have these few people,” they went on to inquire, “made the great
Emperor of the Franks a prisoner? Do you mean that they have taken the
Emperor, whose likeness is stamped on all the gold money?” “O yes,”
answered Soliman, “he was a big rascal; and heaven has rewarded him
according to his deserts.”
It was on the 30th of March that the people arrived from the Meshera,
and no one can tell how delighted I was to get the few stores that
had been sent me from Khartoom. Provided as I was with a new stock
of paper, I again set about my botanical work which had so long been
suspended, and renewed my investigations with redoubled ardour; it was
the opening of the third spring-tide in which it had been my singular
happiness to gather the tribute of Central Africa to lay upon the altar
of science. The period of my return to Europe was getting near, and
I was eager to make a collection of all the bulbs and tubers that I
could; I was very careful to dig them up before they had thrown out any
of their fresh shoots, and was very successful in procuring a large
number, which I deposited in Berlin in a state of perfect vitality;
amongst them were many rare plants, and particularly some specimens
of the _Cycadeæ_ from the country of the Niam-niam. In consequence,
however, either of the defective construction of the plant-houses, or
of the inexperience of the gardeners, many of these subsequently died.
[Sidenote: METEOROLOGICAL EVENTS.]
The meteorological events of 1871 deviated in some degree from their
normal rule. The seasons were not at all sharply defined, as they had
been in the two preceding years. Throughout March there was a perpetual
struggle between directly contrary winds; first the north-east wind
contended violently with the south-east wind, and only desisted to
commence a conflict just as furious with the south-west. About the
middle of the month the days were extremely hot, and the dominant
north-east wind raged with almost the intensity of a simoom, that
threatened to convert the land into a desert. On two separate days
there were some slight showers, but the first heavy rain was that which
fell on the 31st. In April there were six slight falls, and four very
heavy falls, of rain, the south-west wind being generally prevalent,
although there were several days when the rude, rough Boreas still
struggled vehemently for the mastery. In May there were five showery
days and three that were thoroughly wet.
The reappearance, for the first time, of various plants and animals
marked, as it were, the separate stages of the advancing season, and
prompted me to make a sort of farmer’s calendar of the different
events. It was on the 16th that the wind suddenly veered to the
south-east and some drops of rain fell, the first that had occurred
since the passing shower on the 11th of February. The direction of the
wind seemed now to be settled, and in the course of the night I heard
a cricket chirping on the grass. Before many days had past the cicadas
put in an appearance, and in the middle of the day the air resounded
with their shrill tones, clear almost as the ring of metal, At the
beginning of April the humidity of the atmosphere rapidly increased,
whilst the heat remained intense, the average temperature being not
less than 81° Fahr. This unhealthy concurrence of hot atmosphere with
damp had the effect of bringing out an angry eruption all over my body,
causing an irritation so violent that my rest at night was completely
destroyed. Heat and moisture together are never beneficial to the
health, except there is a complete protection from the chance of taking
cold.
The 3rd of April, three days after the first decidedly heavy rain,
is noted in my register as being the first day upon which the floor
of my hut was covered with those uncomfortable visitors which never
wait for a welcome; I mean particularly those strange _Arachnidæ_, the
Galeodes (or scorpion-spiders), with their great venomous mandibles,
and the whole family of scorpions proper. My poor negroes were terribly
punished by them, and from head to foot there was not a portion of
their body that enjoyed immunity from their attacks. It was after a
very heavy rainfall that, on the evening of the 18th, I saw the first
winged white ants (sexual males) issue from the clay pyramid of their
“gontoor.”
Towards the middle of the month the stores of corn were so nearly
exhausted that Khalil was obliged to decline showing any hospitality
to the Gellahbas that passed through the Seriba. Soliman himself was
compelled to quit the place, and his old Vokeel took a trip to his
Bongo Seribas to gather together what additional supplies he could. For
myself, I was suffering privation almost as severe as I had endured in
the previous May upon the shores of the Nabambisso, on some days being
unable to obtain a single handful of durra-corn; still, distressing
as my condition was, I could not at once make up my mind to retrace
my steps to Ghattas’s head Seriba. I was quite aware that I should be
better off there for provisions than anywhere else, but the disaster of
the 2nd of December had left such an impression upon my mind that the
very name of the place was hateful to me; and I felt that I should for
my own part much prefer to drag out four months in a starving Seriba
and a barren wilderness, rather than to enjoy meat and milk at the cost
of residing amidst the scenes of my disappointment and misfortune.
[Sidenote: AN EXECUTION.]
One day, just about this time, a former Bongo chief, who had escaped to
the mountains on the southern frontier, having been captured after a
long pursuit, was brought back by Kurshook Ali’s people to the Seriba.
He had clandestinely murdered many of the Nubians, and had instigated
the natives to revolt against their conquerors. His condemnation
and execution now followed forthwith. I heard nothing of the matter
until it was all over, but my negroes, who had been witnesses of the
whole proceeding, gave it as their opinion that the punishment was
well-deserved. They described to me the mode of carrying out the
sentence. The delinquent, they said, had been taken out a considerable
distance into the forest, dragging after him a long sheyba that was
fastened to his neck; all at once he had been felled to the ground by a
tremendous blow, directed just below the knees, from one of those huge
swords four feet long that have been made for centuries at Solingen
near Düsseldorf, and are still manufactured for the especial use of the
African Bedouins and Arabs; two more heavy blows had then cut off his
arms; and last of all, the attack had been levelled at his head, which
was hacked, rather than cleanly severed, from his body.
There are always to be found in this country those who are singularly
dexterous in the use of the swords that I have mentioned. They use them
for performing amputations in their own barbarous way. If mortification
from an ulcer or any other cause seems to be setting in, so that a hand
or a foot is deemed incurable, the limb is fastened to a block of wood,
and with one blow of the sword the part affected is severed almost
within a hair’s breadth of the part that is sound. Instances far from
unfrequent have been known where the sufferers have had the fortitude
to perform the operation, hazardous as it is, upon themselves. The
custom is of great antiquity amongst the Arabs, and probably is not to
be disassociated from the ancient Gospel precept, “If thy right hand
offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee.”
Reluctant as I was, I found myself compelled at last to yield to the
urgent solicitations of my hungry Bongo and to set off for Ghattas’s
Seriba. We started on the 21st. We found the Dyoor, which had risen
during the last few days, somewhat subsiding again, but the whole
breadth of the bed was still covered with water, although only two and
a half feet deep; in the two previous years it had not begun to rise
until a fortnight later. Aboo Guroon’s Seriba was just in the same
miserable condition of want as the district we had left, and we found
the natives eagerly engaged in collecting the bitter berries of certain
kinds of the Capparideæ, of which, after soaking them repeatedly in
boiling water, they manage to make a sort of pap. The berry of the
_Boxia octandra_ is likewise used for a similar purpose, having been
first dried in the sun to remove the astringent cotyledons and then
pounded in a mortar.
As we continued our journey, we could not be otherwise than surprised
at the large flocks of maraboo-storks that we saw congregated amidst
the burnt grass in the low steppes adjacent to the bed of the Molmul:
most probably they were searching for the bodies of the snakes,
lizards, and mice that had been killed in the recent conflagration.
With the 4th of May came the commencement of the general sowing of the
crops; men’s hearts revived, and they began to anticipate happier times.
[Sidenote: MISERY AND DIRT.]
Ghattas’s granaries still contained some corn; and a small number of
cattle, the residue of his once enormous herds, was yet to be seen in
his farmyard. But in spite of my sense of these material comforts, the
crowded Seriba was most repulsive to me: changed indeed it was in a
way; but in its essential character it had remained true to its old
composition. Certain it was that the swarms of rats that had infested
the huts and undermined the soil had been all but exterminated by the
fire; the crowds of red-headed lizards (_Agamas_) that used to frisk up
and down the old rotten palisade were no longer to be seen; the horned
beetles (_Scarabæus nasicornus_) and their grubs that had once covered
every dung-heap were totally annihilated; it was man alone who was
unchanged, and the same revolting forms, infected with syphilis, scabs,
and boils were spreading their putrid miasma around. Tottering along
betwixt the crooked, tumble-down straw hedges and amidst the heaps of
garbage and of refuse might still be seen the wretched fever-stricken
beings, with shorn heads covered with scabs and every limb a mass of
festering matter; everywhere prevailed the moaning and groaning of a
lingering death; the people were not so much what they were accustomed
to call themselves and each other in their curses, “dogs and the
sons of dogs,” they were rather sons of _dirt_, born and bred in an
atmosphere of abscess and corruption.
I found my former garden ragged and barren as a wilderness; the only
surviving memorials of what it had been were the tomatoes flourishing
persistently upon the fertile soil, and the sunflowers that gloried
in the tropical sun. Some of the sunflowers rose in great pyramids
of foliage to a height of over ten feet, and with their huge disks
of blossoms ever turned towards the full glare of light, presented
an appearance that was very striking. In this strange world their
splendour could not but irresistibly attract me, and I often sat
down on the ground before them, and while gazing on their brightness
recalled the fading memories of the past and conjured up anew the
recollections of my distant travels, looking back upon the scenes I had
passed, as a traveller looking through the back window of his carriage
might take a retrospect of the country he had left behind.
[Illustration: BONGO VILLAGE, NEAR GEER.]
In order to obtain a short reprieve from my melancholy and unpleasant
surroundings and to finish up with a few days’ quiet enjoyment of
nature, I resolved, towards the end of May, to take a farewell trip to
Geer, and so to pay a parting visit to the Bongo. I had become quite
attached to this people, and had determined to take a young Bongo boy
back with me to Europe. My new _protégé_ was named Allagabo.[95] He
seemed to me to be sharper and quicker in ability than many of his
race, even of those who were considerably older than himself; and I
intended him accordingly to be properly educated; his family lived in
Geer, and whilst I was there I received various visits from his father,
uncle, and aunt, to all of whom I made what presents I could, and
immortalised them in my portfolio. They no longer exercised any right
over Allagabo, as he had been stolen from his home a long time before
by the Dinka, and disposed of by them to the controller of the Seriba
in exchange for some cattle; the boy’s good fortune was quite a matter
of congratulation to his relatives, as they were fully convinced he
would lead a much happier life with me than he could possibly expect in
his savage home. His mother, some years previously, after one of the
regular cattle-exchanges, had been carried off as a slave to Khartoom;
she was the only one of his relations for whom Allagabo had any
yearning, and later, when he had grown accustomed to his European life
and begun to confide in me, he used to tell me that the image of his
mother haunted him in his dreams and hovered over him with tears in her
eyes. I made many inquiries for her in Khartoom, but never succeeded
in learning anything about her. For his father, Allagabo had little
affection or respect. When I was making presents I had noticed that he
was always urging me to hand my gifts by preference to his uncle,
saying that his father did not deserve them, and upon my asking him
the reason, he told me that once during the time when he was suffering
from one of the diseases of childhood, his father had been utterly
indifferent to his condition, but that his uncle had helped to nurse
him with the greatest tenderness.
[Sidenote: A BONGO VILLAGE.]
In Geer I made numerous additions to my album. Here, too, I sketched
the accompanying illustration of the village life of the Bongo. The
huts and granaries are built round an immense butter-tree. On the left
is one of the memorial graves which I have already described,[96] and
on the right, a woman pounding corn in one of the native portable
mortars; in the foreground are three Bongo women in attitudes in which
they may frequently be observed, the sitting figure having a child
suspended from her back in a leather bag; all round the village are
sireh-fields, with their crops standing some twelve feet high, whilst
the harp-shaped frames for drying the sesame rise up conspicuously
above them.
The appearance of the first new moon after my return from my pleasant
little trip was saluted with the usual nonsensical firing of guns,
which threatened to cause a disaster similar to that over which I have
already poured out my Jeremiad. It was the same old story; bullets
were whizzing and whirring in all directions, when one of the straw
roofs took fire; the flames were extinguished with much difficulty,
and before any very serious damage had been done, but my powers of
endurance were exhausted; I would not abide the chance of further
repetition of the peril, and insisted upon preparations being at once
taken in hand for sending off the boats to Khartoom.
An accidental circumstance favoured my design. Intelligence had
casually reached me that Abdel Mesih, a son of Ghattas, was making
a tour amongst the eastern Seribas of the Rohl, and intended very
shortly to come on to us. To me the information was very opportune, as
it gave me a handle, which I did not fail to use, to induce Idrees,
our controller, to hurry on his movements in my behalf. I made him
understand how much worse it would be for him if Abdel Mesih should
arrive before I had taken my departure; for most certainly if I had
the chance I should report upon the negligence that had caused the
burning-down of the Seriba, and should demand compensation for all my
losses. The consequences, I warned him, would be that his master would
at once remove him from his post, and that he would have to go back to
his place in Khartoom a poor beggarly slave. My threats answered their
purpose admirably; they put Idrees into a frightful state of alarm;
he lost no time in pushing matters forward, and on the 4th of June
everything was ready for the march to the Meshera.
[Sidenote: THE DINKA COUNTRY.]
Our party consisted of fifty soldiers and rather more than 300 bearers.
We started along our former road to the north-east, through the
low-lying country of the Dinka, which I had previously traversed during
the month of March; but so advanced was the season now that the whole
region presented quite a new aspect. Bulbous plants of every variety
shed their enlivening hues over the splendid plains, which were adorned
by noble trees, park-like in their groupings. There was a descent in
the land, but it was scarcely perceptible. We were only aware that we
were approaching the limits of the rocky soil, when, on emerging from
the bush, we saw stretching far before us the first great steppe that
marked the commencement of the Dinka country. Scattered at intervals
over the plain were some very remarkable groves. These were not only
singularly compact, but their outline was as sharply defined as if it
had been drawn by compasses, each cluster seeming to form itself around
some unusually tall tree that was a common centre for the rest. The
fantastic forms of the wild Phœnix and the candelabra-Euphorbia were
the most conspicuous amidst these striking groups.
Our first night-camp was pitched at a deserted murah belonging to the
Ayarr tribe. The deep holes that remained where wells had formerly
been sunk, allowed us to make a very interesting inspection of the
character of the soil; we had advanced exactly 7000 paces from the
extremity of the rock, and on looking into the holes I could see that
the ferruginous swamp-ore was here covered by a homogeneous layer of
grey sandy soil, ten feet in thickness. These steppes are scarcely at
all above the level of the Gazelle,[97] and, consequently, from July
to the end of the rainy season they are constantly under water; traces
of the inundation were apparent in the empty shells of the water-snail
(_Ampullaria_) that were scattered about, and in the pools I found some
of the little tortoises (_Pelomedusa gehafie_, Rüpp.) that have their
home in the Gazelle itself.
On the following day we crossed the territory of the Dwuihr; the
country retained the same character of level steppe broken by clumps of
trees, but in consequence of the recent showers the roads in parts had
become quite marshy. There were many detached huts scattered about.
As we advanced, our attention was attracted by a herd of hartebeests
sporting together scarcely 500 paces from our path, and apparently
quite unconscious of the proximity of a caravan nearly half a league
in length. So regular were their evolutions as almost to suggest the
idea that they were being guided by some invisible hand; they ran in
couples like the horses in a circus, and kept going round and round a
clump of trees, whilst the others stood in groups of three or four
intently watching them; after a time these in turn took their place,
and, two at a time, ran their own circuit in the same fashion. How
long these movements might have continued, I cannot say; but my dogs
soon afterwards made a dash in amongst the antelopes and sent them
flying in all directions. The circumstance that I have now related may
appear somewhat incredible; but I can only say that I had ample time
to witness it, and that I was as much surprised at it as my readers
can possibly be. I can only imagine, in explanation, that it was
pairing-time, and that the animals were blind to all external danger.
I remembered that I had witnessed something similar, three months
previously, upon the Dyoor. A party of three of us were rambling over
a plain covered with short grass, when we saw two little Hegoleh-bocks
(_A. Madoqua_) chasing each other upon one side of us; they kept up
that peculiar grunting that belongs to their kind; a moment after, and
they were on the other side of us; in another moment they were back
again; and by watching them we found that they kept making a circle
round the spot on which we were standing, and, although we shouted and
tried to scare them, they persisted in twice more performing their
circuit about us.
Our next task was to cross a swampy brook overgrown with the
Habbas-mimosa, and the Bongo bearers made a diversion in the day’s
proceedings by instituting a _battue_ in the long steppe-grass in which
they succeeded in killing four ichneumons.
The following section of our march was through bush-thickets abundant
in pools; and, to judge by the numerous traces that we noticed, it must
have been a district that was much frequented by elephants.
The ever-recurring swamps seriously impeded our third morning’s march,
which was across the forest of the Alwady. The first villages that we
reached belonged to the district of Teng Teng; here we deviated from
the road that led directly towards the Meshera, and turned eastwards
through more populous parts, hoping that provisions might be foraged
up with less difficulty for the large troop of bearers. The natives,
according to their wont, withdrew as we approached, so that, although
the region was really well cultivated and thoroughly inhabited, it was
now quite deserted; and the large murah belonging to a Dinka chief
named Dal Kurdyook was reduced to a condition hardly better than a
wilderness, except that the well-kept soil was covered with some
hundreds of the great wooden pegs that are used for tethering the
cattle.
[Sidenote: A CATTLE-RAID.]
Hardly was the baggage down from off the bearers’ backs before the
command was issued for a cattle-raid. Off and away was every one who
had arms to carry. Unless meat could be had, the bearers must starve.
There was no corn left; and as to grubbing in the earth for roots, the
days’ journeys were far too arduous to permit any extra fatigue for
such a purpose. Meat must be got.
It was a strange sensation, and sufficiently unpleasant, to find myself
left alone with my few helpless servants in the deserted murah; the
Dinka might fall upon us at any moment; and against their thousands
what chance had we? In the course, however, of little more than an hour
my suspense was at an end. The marauders had made good use of their
time, and now came back in triumph with fifteen cows and 200 sheep
and goats. The leader of the band had the reputation of being one of
the most adroit hands at cattle-stealing that the Khartoom companies
had ever had in their service, seeming to put his party, almost by
instinct, upon the right track for securing their prey. His experience
made him quite aware that the bulk of the herds had all been cleared
far away from the murahs and despatched to the most inaccessible of the
swamps of the Tondy; they had had twenty-four hours’ start, and it was
useless for a caravan, with its own baggage to look after, to think of
going in pursuit of them. Still, one thing was certain; although all
the large herds were gone, yet there must have been cows with their
calves that were left behind for the support of the households that
were in hiding close in the neighbourhood; against these the plot was
laid, and succeeded by a very simple stratagem. The marauders marched
out a little way to the south, turned short off into the forest, and
then, having arranged themselves in a semicircle embracing the murah,
proceeded in unbroken line right through the bush, driving everything
before them. The result was, that within half a league of the place of
encampment the whole of the reserve of Dal Kurdyook’s cows, as well
as other animals, fell into the hands of Ghattas’s people. A portion
of the sheep and goats was spared to be driven onwards with us to the
Meshera, but all the rest were slain and consumed off-hand the very
night on which they were captured. Such a wholesale slaughter, or
such a lavish feasting, as took place in Dal Kurdyook’s murah I never
witnessed before or since. When we took our departure on the following
morning the layer of white ashes that covered the ground was literally
dyed with the blood of the victims.
On the fourth day of our march, at a spot near the residence of Kudy,
we re-entered our former road. The country was alternately wood and
cultivated land. It was enlivened by numerous hamlets, and altogether,
although it was neither rocky nor undulated, it had a general aspect,
to which the detached clumps of trees contributed, not unlike Bongoland.
[Sidenote: KUDY AND TAKE.]
Kudy was a Dinka chief, a close ally of Ghattas’s marauders, and one of
those characters, not uncommon in Central Africa, who have gained an
inglorious notoriety for their treachery and infidelity to their own
countrymen. How he managed to maintain his position in the place after
his confederates had taken their departure, I cannot imagine, as his
authority did not in the least extend beyond the immediate vicinity.
The incidental meeting of our party with their ally of course put
it into their heads to set out on another cattle-raid, and Kudy was
appointed to the command. He had only to lead them out for a couple of
leagues to the south-west of his residence to a region where Ghattas
some years ago maintained a Seriba, and the object was effectually
accomplished. Quite early in the day they came back with an immense
number of sheep and goats, and nearly every bearer had a kid upon his
shoulders. The quantity of corn, however, was very insignificant.
Everything was done in the quietest way possible; there was not the
least excitement. The people were so accustomed to these raids that the
execution of them was quite a matter of routine.
On the following morning we reached the murah of Take, another Dinka
chief, and while we made a halt our people effected yet another raid.
Just as on the previous day, the produce in the way of corn was next to
nothing, but large numbers both of goats and sheep were driven in, the
whole of which were killed and cooked forthwith for the benefit of the
soldiers and bearers.
In spite of the good understanding that existed between the Khartoomers
and both these chieftains, every village throughout the district was
utterly deserted, and with the exception of the families of Take and
Kudy themselves we did not see a single human being.
The march of the sixth day led us through the territory of the Rek, a
district remarkable for its wide sandflats. All along I had noticed
that the pasture-lands were cropped so closely by the cattle that it
might almost be fancied that they had been mown with a scythe; but
although the grass was so short, it had, in consequence of the recent
rains, a bright green look that was very refreshing.
Next day at noon we encamped beneath the sycamore by the wells of
Lao. By some misunderstanding my people had come to the conclusion
that we were to halt here for the night. Accordingly they unpacked
all my things, and I was about settling myself in an empty hut when
the tidings were told that the caravan had already renewed its march.
By the time that I was again prepared to proceed the whole train was
out of sight, so that under the guidance of a man who knew the proper
route we had to follow in the rear as rapidly as we could. While we
were on our way a violent storm came up from the west, and, bursting
over our heads, soon put the whole locality under water. To add to our
discomfort, our road happened to be through a wood and it was growing
dusk, so that we had to go on stumbling into the continuous puddles,
that were often very deep. In getting through these places I was at a
great disadvantage; my heavy boots prevented me from keeping up with
the light ambling trot of the natives, as I had constantly to stop and
pull on first one and then the other, as they were half-dragged off my
feet by the tenacious clay. Except a genuine African traveller, no one
could imagine what ponderous lumps of mud stuck to the soles.
As we toiled along through the miry forest in the thick of the
drenching rain, we were startled by hearing a volley of firearms in the
direction of the caravan. Pitiable as had been our plight before, we
felt it was worse than ever now; we did not doubt but that the party in
advance had been attacked in retribution by the ill-treated Dinka. With
throbbing hearts we reached the outskirts of the wood, every moment
expecting to catch sight of the enemy who would cut us off at once
from the main procession; but seeing the fires burning hospitably in
the neighbouring villages we were soon reassured, and on rejoining our
people found that the sounds that had alarmed us had been caused simply
by the soldiers discharging their guns so that they might not become
foul through the charges getting damp.
[Sidenote: REMAINS OF SHOL’S VILLAGE.]
Early next day, the eighth of our march, long before reaching the
spot, we saw the tall columns of smoke rising from the murah of
our old friend Kurdyook, the husband of the murdered Shol, and on
approaching had the satisfaction of surveying the scene, which had
long been strange to us, of a well-filled cattle-park. The very lowing
of the herds was a welcome sound. Kurdyook himself soon appeared, and
expatiated in very bitter terms upon the lamentable fate of his wife.
We passed close to the spot where her huts had stood, and where our
caravan had been so hospitably entertained on taking leave of her. The
great Kigelia alone remained undisturbed in its glory; the residence
was a heap of ashes, and there was nothing else to tell of poor old
Shol’s former splendour than the strips and shreds of a great torn
spirit-flask.
Very little rain had fallen here. The river had scarcely risen at all;
we were able consequently to get down with dry feet to the edge of
the Meshera, where, about noon, we were conveyed across to the little
island upon which the Khartoomers pitched their camp. Between Ghattas’s
Seriba and this spot I had counted 216,000 paces, showing that the
entire distance we had walked was about eighty miles.
Except that the island which served for the landing-place had been
completely cleared of trees the general appearance of the Meshera
during the last two and a half years had undergone little alteration;
the growth of the papyrus had diminished rather than otherwise, and the
ambatch was still altogether wanting.
Not only attacks from the neighbouring tribes of the Afok and Alwady,
but continuous outbreaks of cattle-plague had decimated the herds left
by Shol, and there had been a great scarcity of corn. Boats, however,
laden with durra had arrived from Khartoom, and, as a considerable
portion of it was consigned to me, I availed myself of the opportunity
to start a flourishing business with the natives, who in exchange for
the corn brought me milk enough to make into butter. The milk was
conveyed to me in separate bottle-gourds, and in order that I might get
five pounds of butter I had to dole out in small quantities as much
corn as would fill a wine-cask.
Before setting sail I had a good deal of squabbling with Ghattas’s
people. I did not want to be brought into the close quarters which the
limits of a boat’s deck necessitated with either lepers or slaves,
and protested that if I did not shoot the first that came on board,
I would at least take good care to report them to the Government. My
endeavours in this way to secure my comfort were very far from being
so successful as I wished. I had previously written to Kurshook Ali to
engage the same boat which had brought him into the country to carry
me back to Khartoom, making it an express stipulation that the boat
should not convey any slaves. We had come to terms, and everything was
apparently quite settled, when it turned out that the boat was not
going to return until late in the year. To defer my departure so long
was out of the question. Slaves or no slaves, it was all-important
to me to be at Khartoom as soon as possible; and when I found that
Ghattas’s people were this year going to ship only a limited number, I
came to the resolution that, under the circumstances, I would take my
chance with them. I knew that Sir Samuel Baker was on the Upper Nile,
and did not doubt that his presence would have the effect of making
the Government take the most strenuous measures against any import of
slaves. I represented as strongly as I could to the people the danger
they were incurring by having such property on board, but I might just
as well have remonstrated with the winds. In spite of all I could say
twenty-seven slaves were shipped, not avowedly as slaves, but so nearly
in that capacity as at once to bring them under suspicion of being
destined for the market. Undesirable as their company was, still I was
thankful to be free from contact with any lepers; making the best,
therefore, of an unpleasant business, I went on board on the afternoon
of the 26th of June.
[Sidenote: MY OWN SLAVES.]
I confess that I felt a little tongue-tied, through not being myself
entirely free from blame. I could not deny that I had three slaves
of my own: these were Tikkitikki the Pygmy, Allagabo the Bongo, and
Amber the Niam-niam. The other Niam-niam youth I left behind in the
Seriba, after having gained him his freedom and seen him duly admitted
into the Mohammedan sect by circumcision, the only means by which his
social position could be secured. With regard to these lads I profess
I had not the least squeamishness in carrying them away with me, and I
felt none of that misgiving which other travellers have expressed when
they have been tempted to a like proceeding. I felt that I could not
leave them to a doubtful fate after they had been serving me faithfully
for nothing, and attending me for two whole years in the desert; and
I had no kind of idea that I was reducing myself to the level of a
slave-dealer by determining to retain them and to introduce them to
European civilisation, for if I left them behind I was quite aware that
they would be immediately consigned to the ordinary lot of slavery.
Rather was I disposed to compare myself with those noble-minded
Orientals who, although they look upon the regular slave-dealer’s
calling as the vilest and most degrading of all professions, yet do
not consider the possession of slaves to be in itself illegitimate or
inconsistent with the purest morality.
It may be well to transcribe here my original diary of the passage down
the Gazelle. It will not, I believe, be without interest, if it be only
to show that the length of the river has hitherto been much exaggerated
on all previous maps:—
“_June 26th._—Sailed for about four hours, until evening,
along the Kyt. A light breeze. The Kyt channel from eight
to ten feet deep; its bottom one great mass of valisneria.
“_27th._—Dull, cloudy day. A contrary N.N.E. wind has
prevented us from getting beyond the mouth of the Dyoor.
“_28th._—Slow progress, on account of the continued N.N.E.
wind. In the afternoon a more favourable breeze. The boat’s
crew affirm that after passing the mouth of the Dyoor the
water becomes whiter. I cannot say that I can perceive
any difference; the water is clear and colourless, and
free from any flavour of the swamps, as if it had been
distilled. Elephants to be seen marching about the shore,
considerably in front of the demarcation line made by the
trees. To the west of the channel are columns of smoke from
some adjacent murah. Acacia-forests (none of the trees
more than forty feet high) line both sides of the land
subject to inundation; nowhere do these exceed a width of
two miles. We proceed through clumps of ambatch, and make
a wide bend to the west round an island which the sailors
call Gyerdiga. Continued sailing at night under a good west
wind.
“_29th._—Quite early at a place where the river is not 500
feet across; the contracted spot enclosed by bush-forest.
Soon afterwards we pass the mouth of the Bahr-el-Arab.
There is a favourable breeze from the south-east. In the
afternoon we reach the first Nueir villages. Some of the
great _Balæniceps rex_ are standing on the white ant-hills;
have they been there ever since I last saw them there,
two years and more ago? At evening a negro is dying from
dysentery; according to custom, the poor creature is thrown
overboard before life is really extinct. I fear my own
feelings of satisfaction at getting home again make me
somewhat callous to this horrible proceeding.
“_30th._—A clouded sky, and the wind contrary. We
heave-to in a backwater that is overgrown with grass for
seventy-five feet from either bank: a solitary doom-palm
marks the spot. Again sail on throughout the night, the
breeze having once more become favourable.
[Sidenote: DOWN THE GAZELLE.]
“_July 1st._—At 8 o’clock A.M. pass the Nueir villages, at
which we stayed for a day on our passage out. It is unsafe
to land now; a Vokeel of Kurshook Ali’s was murdered not
long since. The district is full of bushes; white ant-hills
and low acacia-hedges are frequent. A hippopotamus is
leaning against a great stem upon the bank; we approach
within thirty paces of the flesh-coloured brute, but it
makes no attempt to get into the water. A bullet is fired,
but seems to take no effect; the great beast totters about
as though it needed support. All the crew assert that it
is hopelessly ill, and has gone, as usual, on the land to
die; no one, however, explains why it still stands upright.
Large herds of Dinka cattle graze on the northern bank.
Towards evening we arrive at the lake-like opening by the
mouth of the Gazelle, where the water is a mile across. A
tremendous gale gets up from the N.N.E.; the boat is tossed
about on the muddy bottom of the river and dashed against
the floating islands of grass. The mast and sail-yards
creak as though they must snap in two; the boatmen shout
according to their habit, but the Reis cannot join them
because he is hoarse with a cold. There is an incessant
invocation of the saints of the Nile: a mingled outcry of
‘ya Seyet, ya Sheikh Abd-el-kader, Aboo Seyet, ya Sheikh
Ahmed-el-Nil.’
“_2nd._—A good west wind carries us betimes past the mouth
of the Gazelle. I am surprised to find the floating grass
in almost the same condition as in the winter of 1869;
the water, however, is higher now, and consequently the
entrance to the main stream is easier.”
From these contemporary notes it will at once be inferred that the
entire length of the Gazelle was navigated by us in four and a half
days of very moderate sailing. If the stream is from 136 to 140 miles
long, as nearly all the existing maps have represented it, we must
have sailed at a rate of about thirty miles a day; but for my part I
feel sure that this estimate of our speed must be reduced by at least
one-quarter.
All the comfort of our future progress was marred by the incessant
plagues of flies, and all its regularity was interrupted by the same
grass-obstructions that had impeded us on our former voyage. Before we
could enter the side channel known as the Maia Signora, we had to make
our way by a narrow cut of water that rushed along like a wild brook,
and forced itself through the masses of vegetation on either side of
the river, which here, I should suppose, was about half a mile wide.
The depth of the fairway varied from six feet to eight feet, and the
boat nowhere touched the bottom. The best plan that I can devise for
rendering the stream permanently navigable would be to erect dams at
certain intervals, and it appears to me that the small depth of water
would render the project far from difficult of accomplishment.
We spent the 3rd in sailing along the channel of the Maia Signora,
which was 300 feet in width. Towards evening we re-entered the
main-stream. At night we continued to drift along, borne gradually
onward by the slow current; but, in case of being surprised by sudden
gusts of strong wind, we did not hoist a sail. The open channel was
about 500 feet in width, but on the northern side it was divided from
the actual shore by a growth of grass that was scarcely less than
3000 feet across. The morning brought us in sight of the huts in the
Shillook district of Tooma.
[Sidenote: A HYÆNA-WOMAN.]
A horrible association will be for ever linked to my memories of that
night. Dysentery is a disorder to which the negroes, on changing their
mode of living, are especially liable, and an old female slave, after
long suffering, was now dying in the hold below. All at once, probably
attacked by a fit of epilepsy, she began to utter the most frightful
shrieks and to groan with the intensest of anguish. Such sounds I had
never heard before from any human being, and I hardly know to what I
may compare them, except it be to the unearthly yells of the hyænas
as they prowl by night amidst the offal of the market-towns of the
Soudan. Beginning with a kind of long-drawn sigh, the cries ended
with the shrillest of screams, and were truly heartrending. From my
recess in the bow of the boat, that was partitioned off by a screen
of matting, I could not see what was going on, and conscious that I
was quite powerless to accomplish any alleviation for the sufferer, I
tried to shut out the melancholy noise by wrapping myself closely round
in my bed-clothes. Presently I was conscious of the sound of angry
voices; then came a sudden splash in the water amidst the muttered
curses upon the “marafeel” (the hyæna), and all was still. The inhuman
sailors had laid hold upon the miserable creature in her death-agonies,
and, without waiting for her to expire, had thrown her overboard. In
their own minds they were perfectly convinced that she was a witch or
hyæna-woman, whose existence would inevitably involve the boat in some
dire calamity.
It was about five o’clock in the afternoon when we passed the mouth of
the Gazelle. Nearly all next day a contrary north wind prevailed, and
was so strong that we were obliged to put in upon the right-hand bank.
From the spot where we lay-to I counted as many as forty villages on
the opposite shore. The district was called Nelwang, and the whole of
the surrounding region belonged to the once powerful Shillook chieftain
Kashgar, now no longer formidable, as he had lately been reduced to
subjection and his entire dominion converted into a regular Egyptian
province. Of this altered condition of things we had received no
intelligence, and consequently we were in no little trepidation when
we saw the natives crossing the river in large numbers just above the
place where we were stopping. But we need not have been under any
apprehensions. It was soon manifest that the Shillook party had no
hostile intentions, and were gathered together merely for a hunting
excursion in the forests beyond the right bank of the river.
On observing the crowd of Shillooks our first impulse had been to make
our way into the middle of the stream. It was past noon, and we were
intently watching the movements of the hunters, when our attention
was suddenly attracted by four men, dressed in white, shouting and
gesticulating to us from the opposite bank. We could not imagine what
Mohammedans were doing in this part of the country, and without loss
of time pushed across and took the men on board. They proved to be
Khartoom boatmen sent by the Mudir of Fashoda to inform us that his
camp was close at hand, and that it was requisite for all boats coming
down the river to stop there and submit to a rigid investigation as to
what freight and passengers they were carrying. Our long sail-yard had
been observed from the camp, and active measures had been immediately
taken to prevent us from continuing our voyage without undergoing the
prescribed scrutiny.
We had not long to wait before an unaccustomed surging of the water
made us aware that a steamer was quite close upon us; in a few moments
more the “Remorquer,” No. 8, was alongside, and a rope thrown out by
which we had to be towed down to the camp.
However elated I might be at the prospect of being now so soon restored
to intercourse with men of a higher grade than those with whom I had
been long associated, I must confess that this our first greeting from
the civilized world rather jarred upon my sensibilities, and in the
sequel resulted in some bitter disappointment.
For nearly a couple of hours we were quietly towed down the river
until, at a spot just above the mouth of the Sobat, we came to a side
arm of the main stream, called the Lollo. Turning off abruptly into
this we found ourselves proceeding in a direction that was quite
retrograde as compared with that in which we had just come, and in
another couple of hours reached the Mudir’s temporary camp in the
district of Fanekama. His force consisted of 400 black soldiers, fifty
mounted Baggara, and two field guns.
The Lollo flows almost parallel to the main-stream at a distance
varying from a quarter of a league to two leagues. It is said to be
about eighteen leagues in length; its current is extremely weak, and
its depth from ten to fifteen feet; in many places it was from 800 to
1000 feet in width, and consequently at this season as wide as the
main-stream itself: during the winter, however, it dwindles down to a
mere shallow khor.
[Sidenote: FANEKAMA.]
The little steam-tug was an iron boat of 24 horse-power: its sides
were so eaten up by rust that they were like a sieve, and the decrepit
old captain, almost as worn-out as his vessel, was everlastingly
patching them up with a compound of chalk and oil. Besides this,
there were lying off Fanekama three Government boats and two large
“negger” belonging to Agahd’s company that had come from the Meshera
Elliab on the Bahr-el-Ghazal; these had been conveying no less than
600 slaves, all of whom had been confiscated. Notwithstanding that Sir
Samuel Baker was still on the upper waters of the river, the idea was
quite prevalent in all the Seribas that as soon as “the English pasha”
had turned his back upon Fashoda, the Mudir would relapse into his
former habits, levy a good round sum on the head of every slave, and
then let the contraband stock pass without more ado. But for once the
Seriba people were reckoning without their host. The Mudir had been
so severely reprimanded by Baker for his former delinquencies that
he thought it was his best policy, for this year at least, to be as
energetic as he could in his exertions against the forbidden trade;
and his measures were so summary, and executed with such methodical
strictness, that unless I had known him I could scarcely have believed
him to be a Turk. He was now especially anxious to show off his
authority before me as the first witness who would have the power of
reporting his activity and decision to the world at large.
The first thing was to get all slaves whatever carried on shore,
that is to say all who were black and who were not Mohammedans; no
distinction was made in favour of such as had come after having already
been in Khartoom, although they might have been reported in the list of
the crews that had worked the boats up the river.
Among the 600 slaves now brought in Agahd’s boats there were
representatives of no less than eighteen different tribes. The
small-pox, however, had raged so frightfully among them that fear
of contagion alike for myself and my people deterred me from taking
advantage of the unusual opportunity offered for ethnographical
investigation. It must not be supposed that these 600 slaves had been
the only passengers on Agahd’s boats; in addition to them there had
been 200 Nubians, and thus it may be imagined that the most crowded
cattle-pens could hardly have been more intolerable than the vessels
throughout their voyage.
Many of the black soldiers under the Mudir’s command, recruited as they
had been at Khartoom from slaves previously confiscated, made very
fair interpreters to assist in classifying the new arrivals according
to their race and nationality. Everything about the slaves had to be
registered. Their number, the number of tribes that they represented,
their age, their sex, the way they had been purchased, the place where
they had been captured, the circumstances under which they had fallen
into the hands of the Khartoomers, and all particulars of this sort
had to be entered in a book. Then each of the Nubians was separately
questioned about his own home, his name, his rank, his trade or
profession, the number of his slaves, and the price he had paid for
them respectively; to each of the traders there was then handed a copy
of his own affidavit, to which he was obliged to affix his seal.
[Sidenote: A MINUTE INVESTIGATION.]
An inventory was next taken of all property, so that it might be
retained at the pleasure of the Government, guns, ammunition, and ivory
being expressly specified. The three Arab clerks entered into such
minute details, and made their reports so prolix, that it was necessary
for them to apply an amount of patient industry of which I could hardly
have believed them capable.
Besides these notaries the Mudir kept a number of smiths and carpenters
perpetually employed in the fabrication of the iron fetters and wooden
sheybas to bind the Reis and all the men that were not absolutely
indispensable for the navigation of the boat. Every possible precaution
seemed to be taken, and even seals were made for the use of those who
had none of their own with which to attest their affidavits. It took
two days to complete our inspection; but when it came to an end, three
soldiers were sent on board as a guard, and we were allowed to proceed.
Free from the polluted air of Fanekama, I began to feel that I could
breathe again.
A day and a half brought us to Fashoda, where I was equally surprised
and gratified to hear of a kindness that had been intended to be shown
me. Dyafer Pasha, the Governor-General, immediately on hearing of the
destitute condition in which I had been left by the burning down of
Ghattas’s Seriba, had despatched to me such a munificent supply of
provisions of every description as would have kept me well for months
not only with the means of subsistence, but with many of the elegancies
of a civilised life. Had this liberal contribution reached me before I
left Bongoland, I think I should have been vastly tempted to defer my
return to Europe for another year; but it was not to be; the supplies
had been placed under the charge of a company of soldiers who were
going up the Gazelle to reinforce the troops already stationed in Dar
Ferteet; but the change of wind and the condition of the water had
delayed their progress till it was too late to proceed, and they had
been obliged to stay at Fashoda until the commencement of the winter.
The condition of the unfortunate slaves had become far worse since
their confiscation; the very measures that ought to have ameliorated
their lot had been but an aggravation of their misery. The supply of
corn was rapidly coming to an end; they had, in fact, hardly anything
to eat, and the soldiers on guard never dreamed of making the least
exertion to provide in any way for their needs, resorting to the use of
the kurbatch much more freely than their former masters, who had now
lost whatever interest they might have had in their welfare.
My powers of endurance were sorely tried. Incessant on the one hand
were the murmurs and complaints; incessant on the other were the
scoldings and cursings. If some luckless negro happened to be blessed
with a tolerably good and robust constitution so that he kept fat
and healthy under all his hardships, he was continually being made a
laughing-stock and jeered at for being “a tub;” if, on the contrary,
a poor wretch got thin till he was the very picture of misery, he
was designated a “hyæna,” and perpetually bantered on account of his
“hyæna-face.” I used to have whole kettles full of rice and maccaroni
boiled for the poor creatures, but it was, of course, utterly beyond
the compass of my resources to do much towards supplying their wants.
On approaching the district of Wod Shellay, we perceived countless
masses of black specks standing out against the bright coloured sand.
They were all slaves! The route from Kordofan to the east lay right
across the land, and was quite unguarded; the spot that we now saw was
where the caravans are conveyed over the river on their way to the
great _dépôt_ at Mussalemieh. Once again did the sight remind me of
Katherine II.’s painted villages in South Russia, although this time in
a somewhat different sense.
[Sidenote: ARRIVAL AT KHARTOOM.]
At length towards sunset, on the 21st of July, we reached the
Ras-el-Khartoom. Our entire journey from the Meshera had been
accomplished in twenty-five days, six of which had been consumed
in stoppages at Fanekama, Fashoda, and Kowa. Upon the whole I
congratulated myself on getting so quickly to the end of the trouble.
With a quickened pulse I set out alone on foot for the town. Evening
was drawing on, and although I met numbers of people, there was no one
to recognise me; in my meagre white calico costume I might easily have
passed for one of those homeless Greeks, who, without a place to rest
their heads, have been forced to seek their fortune in the remotest
corners of the earth. I made my way at once to a German tailor named
Klein, who had been living for some years in Khartoom, and by the
vigorous prosecution of his trade had contributed in no small degree
towards the promotion of external culture in the town. He soon provided
me with some civilised garments, and I felt myself fit to make my
appearance before my old friends, at least such as remained, for some I
grieved to learn were dead, and others had left the place.
I found Khartoom itself much altered. A large number of new brick
buildings, a spacious quay on the banks of the Blue Nile, and some
still more imposing erections on the other side of the river, had
given the place the more decided aspect of an established town. The
extensive gardens and rows of date-palms planted out nearly half
a century back, had now attained to such a development that they
could not be altogether without influence on the climate; in spite
of everything, however, the sanitary condition of Khartoom was still
very unsatisfactory. This was entirely owing to the defective drainage
of that portion of the town that had been built below the high-water
level. In July, when I was there, I saw many pools almost large enough
to be called ponds that could never possibly dry up without the
application of proper means for draining them off; stagnant under the
tropical sun, they sent forth such an intolerable stench that it was an
abomination to pass near them. When it is remembered that Khartoom is
situated in the desert-zone (for the grassy region does not begin for
at least 150 miles farther to the south) there can appear no necessary
reason why it should be more unhealthy than either Shendy or Berber;
all that is wanted is that the sanitary authorities should exercise a
better management and see that stagnant puddles should be prevented.
As I have already intimated, I found that not a few of my former
acquaintances during my absence had fallen victims to the fatal
climate; but no loss did I personally deplore more than that of the
missionary Blessing, who died just a fortnight before my arrival;
Herr Duisberg had left Khartoom, and since his departure Blessing had
managed all my affairs, and it was from him that I had received my last
despatches in the negro-countries. I found his young widow perfectly
inconsolable, and the sight of her grief made me feel doubly what a
blank his death had left.
On the day after my arrival I telegraphed to Alexandria to announce
my safe return. The message reached its destination in the course of
two days; the charge for twenty words was four dollars. The telegram
had to be written in Arabic, and in the compressed yet lucid form of
that language ran as follows:—“German Consulate-General, Alexandria.
Arrived July 21st. Telegraph to Braun at the Berlin Academy that he
may inform my mother. Nothing else necessary.” The telegraph had only
been established during the last few months, and as yet was scarcely
in full working order. The officials were young and inexperienced at
their work, and the direct line of communication was broken in two
places by the messages having to be conveyed across the river; as a
further defect, the Morse system was partially in use, and it was only
beyond Assouan that the needle-system had been adopted. Except for the
conciseness of its forms of expression, Arabic is extremely unsuitable
for telegraphy; the deficiency of vowel symbols makes proper names
all but undecipherable to any one who is previously unacquainted with
them. But with all its temporary shortcomings, the establishment of the
telegraph will ever rank as pre-eminent amongst the services rendered
by the Government of Ismail Pasha.
[Sidenote: MY SERVANTS’ DILEMMA.]
Dyafer Pasha, to whom I was so much indebted for his liberal intentions
on my behalf, received me with his unfailing cordiality, and gave me a
lodging in one of the Government buildings that was at his disposal;
but notwithstanding all his generosity to myself I could not feel
otherwise than very much hurt at the unscrupulous manner in which he
acted towards my servants. Their faithfulness to myself had made me
much interested in them, and I now felt intensely annoyed when I found
that, without any communication with me, they had been seized, thrust
into irons, and set to work in the galleys, leaving me with no one but
my three negro lads, and without the services of anybody who knew how
to cook. The fact was that, although I had not been made acquainted
with it, they had been in possession of some slaves on their own
account, representing them as being consigned to their care by friends
in the upper district, who wanted to forward them to their homes. It
was, I found, quite out of my power to prevent the controllers of the
different Seribas all along my route from making presents of slaves to
my servants; any protest on my part was always practically useless,
and only tended to produce an irritating disagreement between us. At
the time of our embarkation at the Meshera I imagined that they were
accompanied only by the wives of two of them, one of their children,
and two young boys who had been so long with them that I quite regarded
them as a recognised part of their belongings; but it turned out in
reality that they had no less than fifteen slaves, which they were
surreptitiously carrying with them. The whole lot were now confiscated
in one common batch; no distinction was made—men, wives, and children
were all included in the general fate. This was as illegal as it was
unjust, for every slave who has borne any children is reckoned as a
wife, although there may have been no regular marriage.
Four separate appeals did I take the trouble to make to the Pasha for
the emancipation of my servants. Even at last my success was only
partial, for I could not obtain the restitution of freedom either
to the women or the children, although their confiscation had been
specially illegal. The Pasha was on the point of starting for Egypt,
but I could not permit any circumstance of the kind to prevent my
doing everything in my power to assist my servants, who had shown
such fidelity for a period of three years. I could not find it in my
heart to leave them to fight out their cause for themselves with the
arbitrary and disorderly administration that I knew well enough would
follow the Pasha’s departure. I resolved, therefore, to take the men on
with me to Cairo. I incurred a considerable extra expense by travelling
with so large a retinue; but I would not be daunted, and after a world
of trouble I succeeded ultimately in obtaining redress for their
grievances.
I told the Pasha that, grateful as I was for all his hospitality
and kindness to myself, I could not help being extremely annoyed at
the trick that had been played me. Nothing, I assured him, could
obliterate the impression that he had looked upon me as an easy dupe:
his proceedings in this respect were quite an insult. I gave him my
opinion that if he wanted to suppress the slave-trade he must see that
the laws were carried out all over the country, and not merely along
the river. Repressive measures, that were enforced at isolated and
uncertain intervals, were of no use at all, and only served to inflame
the population with increased hatred to the Franks. For what good, I
asked him, was it to lay an embargo upon the boats when (to take only
one example) the Mudir of Kordofan quietly allowed the slave-trade to
be carried on in his province to such an extent that in a single year
no less than 2700 slave-dealers had made their way to Dar Ferteet;
and whilst they were there not only had the Egyptian commander raised
no objection to their proceedings, but had so far coalesced with his
officers as practically to become a professional slave-dealer himself.
[Sidenote: EXPOSTULATION.]
The ill-feeling and smothered rage against Sir Samuel Baker’s
interference, nurtured by the higher authorities, breaks out very
strongly amongst the less reticent lower officials. In Fashoda,
and even in Khartoom, I heard complaints that we (the Franks) were
the prime cause of all the trouble, and if it had not been for our
eternal agitation with the Viceroy such measures would never have
been enforced. Yet they need to be instructed that it was never the
intention either of Wilberforce or any of our modern philanthropists
that men should, under any pretext, be robbed of their wives, or
parents of their children, or even that slaves should be wrested from
the hands of the traders merely to be distributed amongst the soldiers,
or to be compelled to become soldiers themselves. And, as I pointed
out to the officials, the very reproaches they made tended to lower
the Viceroy, just because they implied that his commands were only
influenced by external pressure from foreign Powers. I tried further to
make them see that it was quite impossible for any ruler to maintain
proper authority unless his subordinates, whose duty it was to support
him, did their utmost to contribute to his dignity.
On the 9th of August I once again took my passage on board a Nile boat,
this time under more comfortable and less ambiguous circumstances.
With a favourable wind and high water our voyage was very rapid. On
the fourth day we reached Berber. Here I found excellent quarters
in the house of my friend Vasel, and for the first time, after many
months, had the enjoyment of intercourse with a well-educated
fellow-countryman. Vasel had been a benefactor to the land by erecting
a large portion of the telegraph lately opened between Assouan and
Khartoom, and, in spite of his exertions in a climate that had been
fatal to so many Europeans, had hitherto enjoyed unbroken health.
The deaths during the last fever-season had been more than usually
numerous. In Khartoom, in 1870, almost all the resident Europeans had
been fatally attacked, and amongst them Dr. Ori, the renowned Italian
zoologist, after successfully withstanding the deleterious atmosphere
for ten successive years. Soon afterwards Thibaud, the head of the
French vice-consulate, was carried to the grave, followed in the course
of a week by the whole of his family. He had spent forty-three years
of his life at Khartoom; as an associate of Arnaud’s, and in company
with Werne and Sabatier, he had taken part in the memorable expedition
that in 1841 was sent out by Mehemet Ali to discover the sources of
the Nile, and in the prosecution of their task ascended as far as
Gondokoro. To the melancholy death of Blessing I have already referred;
and now, on reaching Berber, I learnt that my old friend Lavargue had
succumbed to fever only a short time before my arrival. He, too, had
been residing for many years in the Soudan.
And now the next to go was my little Tikkitikki. He had for some time
been marked by the unsparing hand of death, and here it was during
my stay at Berber that I had to mourn his loss. At Khartoom he had
been taken ill with a severe attack of dysentery, probably induced by
change of air and very likely aggravated by his too sumptuous diet. His
disorder had day by day become more deeply seated; my care in nursing
seemed to bring no alleviation, and every remedy failed to take effect;
he became weaker and weaker, till his case was manifestly hopeless,
and, after lingering three weeks, sunk at last from sheer exhaustion.
Never before, I think, had I ever felt a death so acutely; my grief
so weakened and unmanned me that my energies flagged entirely, so that
I could scarcely walk for half an hour without extreme fatigue. Since
that date two years have passed away, but still the recollection of
that season of bitter disappointment is like a wound that opens afresh.
[Sidenote: START FOR SAUKIN.]
The other two negro-boys, according to my intention, were to be
playmates and companions for my little Pygmy; but now that he had been
taken from me I took measures to provide for them in a different way.
The elder one, Amber, a true Niam-niam, I left behind in Egypt, under
the care of my old friend Dr. Sachs, the celebrated physician of Cairo;
my little Bongo, Allagabo Teem, was taken to Germany for the purpose of
receiving a careful education.
I was delayed in Berber by the sad circumstances of my little
_protégé’s_ death; but independently of that, my stay was prolonged by
waiting for a courier who, by the orders of his Highness the Khedive,
was on his way to meet me. The German Consul-General Von Jasmund, with
his accustomed solicitude for all who were in any way entrusted to his
protection, had procured me this favour. Fearing that I should be in
want, he had commissioned the courier to bring me money, medicines,
arms, and clothing of all description. Meanwhile I had amply provided
myself at Khartoom with everything of which I stood in need, and was
consequently anxious, if I could, to stop the progress of the envoy.
It was, however, several days, even with the help of the telegraph,
before I could find out how far he had advanced, or could succeed in
countermanding his orders.
On the 10th of September I was ready to start for Suakin. The route
that I took was the same, through the valleys of Etbai, by which I
had journeyed on starting three years previously. My little caravan
consisted now but of thirteen people. By the help of fourteen camels we
accomplished the journey in a fortnight, without any misadventure. Once
again I was in sight of the sea. It was with the truest interest that
I regarded the faithful few that were round about me, and as I looked
down from the summit of the Attaba, 3415 feet high, that enabled me
to gaze beyond the intervening stretch of land to Suakin and to catch
the extended deep-blue line of sea, my feelings could be understood by
none except by a wanderer who, like myself, had been lingering in the
depths of an untraversed country. On the 26th of September I embarked
at Suakin, and after a pleasant voyage of four days landed at Suez; by
the 2nd of November I had reached Messina.
Thus, after an absence of three years and four months, I was once again
upon the soil of Europe.
FOOTNOTES:
[95] Allagabo is the Arabic rendering of the Greek Theodore
(gift of God); by the Dinka the lad was called “Teem,”
_i.e._ “a tree,” because his native name was “Lebbe,”
which is the Bongo word for a species of mimosa.
[96] _Vide_ vol. i., chap. vii.
[97] The barometer gave an altitude of 1396 feet here, and
about the same at two other points on our route to
the Meshera, but as these were only single readings
I cannot vouch for their accuracy. Readings at the
Meshera taken in 1869, and repeated in 1871, gave 1452
feet as the height there.
APPENDIX I.
[Illustration]
TABLE OF HEIGHTS OF VARIOUS POINTS VISITED
DURING THE JOURNEY.
(COMPUTED BY DR. WILHELM SCHUR.)
During my journey I made use of three aneroids, all of which I brought
back safe to Europe; they were subsequently most carefully tested under
various conditions of temperature and pressure by Dr. Wilhelm Schur,
who undertook to estimate and reduce to standard measure the various
observations I had made. I here append only the final results of his
investigations, but for more complete details I would refer to the
Journal of the Geographical Society of Berlin (vol. viii., p. 228),
where he has described at length his method for ascertaining the proper
corrections of my registries, after allowing for the variations from
the mean condition of the barometer.
I very rarely failed three times in the course of a day to note the
readings of the aneroids, but these numerous observations were only
entered in my diary, and consequently perished with the rest of
my papers in the conflagration of the 2nd of December, 1870; only
those observations, therefore, that were made subsequently to that
ill-fated-day, and a few others that were sent home promiscuously in my
correspondence, were available for Dr. Schur’s deductions.
But altogether the following figures will suffice to give very
approximately a true conception of the heights of the regions that I
visited, and it may be of some interest to compare the results with
those obtained during the geometrical survey that is requisite for the
formation of the proposed railway between Suakin and Berber.[98]
In the approximate heights given below, Dr. Schur has reckoned 25
meters as being equivalent to about 82 English feet.
A.—POINTS BETWEEN THE RED SEA AND THE NILE ON THE ROAD
FROM SUAKIN TO BERBER.
-----------------------------------------------+--------------------
| Height above
| the sea.
+---------+--------
| Meters. | Eng. ft.
| |
1 Three hours W. of Suakin. | 212·1 | 695
2 Tamarisk wood, 7½ hours W. of Suakin. | 544·2 | 1785
3 Wady Teekhe, 11½ hours W. of Suakin. | 618·9 | 2030
4 First Attaba (pass), 13 hours W. of Suakin. | 924·5 | 3033
5 At the pools in the valley between the | |
two Attabas. | 913·5 | 2996
6 Second Attaba, highest pass. | 1041·7 | 3415
7 Upper Wady Gabet, below the Attaba. | 925·8 | 3037
8 Singat, summer camp in the great Valley | |
of Okwak. | 941·3 | 3088
9 Wady Sarroweeb, 4 hours E.S.E. of Singat. | 1037·7 | 3404
10 Wady Harrassa in Erkoweet, 8 hours | |
E.S.E. of Singat, near the summer camp. | 1137·8 | 3732
11 At the base of the high hill of Erkoweet, | |
on the N. side. | 1250·2 | 4101
12 Summit of the hill of Erkoweet. | 1676·1 | 5499
13 2 hours W. of Singat, 1 hour from O-Mareg, | |
E. of the small pass. | 1007·3 | 3304
14 3½ hours W. of Singat, W. of the small | |
pass. | 1072·5 | 3518
15 O-Mareg, summer camp in the valley. | 971·7 | 3188
16 Small Wady, 3 hours W. of the Mareg, | |
in front of the pass. | 949·5 | 3115
17 Near the wells in Wady Amet. | 810·1 | 2658
18 On the S. slope of the W. end of the | |
mountain O-Kurr, 5 hours W. of the | |
wells of Amet. | 803·3 | 2635
19 Small Wady, an hour W. of Wady Arab. | 739·9 | 2427
20 Grassy Wady W. of Wady Arab, an | |
hour from the great khor-bed. | 762·5 | 2501
21 Near the wells in Wady Kamot-Atai. | 735·3 | 2412
22 Wady 4 hours E. of Wady Habob. | 705·6 | 2314
23 Wady Dimehadeet. | 717·5 | 2354
24 Wady Habob, eastern arm. | 741·0 | 2431
25 Wady Habob, western arm. | 600·2 | 1969
26 Wady Kokreb, camping-place, 1871. | 694·5 | 2278
27 Wady Kokreb, camping-place S. of last. | 597·6 | 1960
28 Great Wady, an hour W. of Wady Kokreb. | 657·0 | 2155
29 5½ hours W. of small isolated hill near | |
Wady Derumkad (Upper Wady | |
Yumga). | 650·0 | 2132
30 Wady Yumga. | 587·6 | 1927
31 Wady Derumkad. | 581·4 | 1907
32 Small isolated hill, an hour W. of Wady | |
Derumkad. | 578·0 | 1896
33 Valley near the acacias S. of the wells | |
of Roway. | 590·2 | 1936
34 Below the small pass above the Wady | |
Laemeb. | 580·1 | 1903
35 End of rising ground in the upper | |
Wady Laemeb. | 532·8 | 1748
36 In the middle of Wady Laemeb. | 574·6 | 1885
37 In the middle of Wady Laemeb. | 513·9 | 1686
38 In the lower Wady Laemeb, 2 hours | |
E. of O-Feek. | 458·8 | 1505
39 Wady at the foot of the hill O-Feek, | |
southern side. | 498·6 | 1635
40 2 hours E. of the bush-forest at O-Baek. | 508·2 | 1667
41 O-Baek, bush-forest near the wells. | 476·3 | 1562
42 Rain-pool, 2 hours W. of O-Baek. | 459·0 | 1506
43 5½ hours W. of O-Baek. | 438·8 | 1439
44 Wady Eremit, camping place in 1871. | 464·4 | 1523
45 Wady Eremit, camping place in 1868. | 446·0 | 1463
46 Depression in Wady Aboo Kolod. | 399·8 | 1311
47 Wady Darrowreeb or Derreeb. | 414·0 | 1359
48 Wady Aboo Zelem. | 452·2 | 1483
49 Pools of Aboo Tagger, 2½ hours E. of | |
Berber (el Mekherif). | 403·6 | 1324
50 Town of Berber (el Mekherif) 30 feet | |
above the highest level of the Nile. | 417·0 | 1368
-----------------------------------------------+---------+--------
B.—POINTS ON THE NILE BETWEEN LAT. 9° AND 18° N.
-----------------------------------------------+-------------------
| Height above
| the sea.
+---------+--------
| Meters. | Eng. ft.
1 Above Wolled Bassal (from the boat). | 399·7 | 1319
2 Town of Matamma (from the boat). | 404·4 | 1326
3 Town of Shendy (from the boat). | 408·8 | 1341
4 Town of Khartoom, 20 feet above the | |
highest level of the Blue Nile. | 407·2 | 1336
5 Meshera, on the island on the Kyt, the | |
extremity of the Bahr-el-Ghazal. | 442·7 | 1452
-----------------------------------------------+---------+---------
C.—POINTS IN THE BAHR-EL-GHAZAL DISTRICT.
-----------------------------------------------+------------------
| Height above
| the sea.
+--------+---------
| Meters.| Eng. ft.
1 Ghattas’s chief Seriba in Dyoor-land. | 471·2 | 1545
2 Kurshook Ali’s chief Seriba on the | |
Dyoor. | 542·1 | 1778
3 Agahd’s small Seriba Dubor, in Bongoland. | 565·5 | 1854
4 Aboo Guroon’s small Seriba Danga in | |
Bongoland. | 543·7 | 1783
5 Bizelly’s small Seriba Doggaya-mor in | |
Bongoland. | 554·5 | 1818
6 Idrees Wod Defter’s Seriba in the Golo | |
district. | 703·6 | 2306
7 Seebehr Rahama’s chief Seriba in the | |
Kredy district. | 696·0 | 2282
8 Dehm Gudyoo, Agahd’s Seriba. | 846·3 | 2775
9 On the brook Gulanda between Dehm | |
Gudyoo and Dehm Bekeer. | 729·1 | 2391
10 Dehm Bekeer, Kurshook Ali’s Seriba. | 771·0 | 2528
11 Dehm Adlan, Seebehr Adlan’s Seriba | |
the Sehre district. | 747·1 | 2450
12 Agahd’s small Seriba Ngulfala, in | |
Bongoland. | 581·0 | 1905
13 Agahd’s small Seriba Moody, in Bongoland. | 575·0 | 1886
14 Take’s residence in the Dinka country. | 426·5 | 1399
-----------------------------------------------+--------+---------
D.—POINT BEYOND THE NILE DISTRICT.
-----------------------------------------------+----------------
| Height above
| the sea.
+-------+--------
|Meters |Eng. ft.
1 Munza’s residence in Monbuttoo-land, | |
Aboo Sammat’s Seriba. | 825·4 | 2707
-----------------------------------------------+-------+--------
FOOTNOTES:
[98] The position of this district with regard to the
points of the compass may be seen in the map of the
road from Suakin to Berber, which I published in vol.
XV. of Petermann’s ‘Geographical Communications,’
Table 15. 1869.
APPENDIX II.
[Illustration]
EIGHT ITINERARIES IN ILLUSTRATION OF THE DISTRICTS TO THE SOUTH AND
WEST OF MY ROUTE.
A.—IDREES WOD DEFTER’S ROUTE TO THE W.S.W., FROM DEHM
GUDYOO.
_First day._—Four hours to the village of the Kredy chief Mangirr, on
Agahd’s territory.
_Second day._—Six or seven leagues to some Kredy hamlets still on
Agahd’s territory.
_Third day._—Long day’s march of seven or eight hours to the deserted
villages of a former Kredy chief, named Koiye.
_Fourth day._—Eight leagues across an uninhabited district; night in
the wilderness.
_Fifth day._—Seven leagues to a small Seriba belonging to Idrees Wod
Defter on Mount Berangah.
_Sixth day._—Seven or eight leagues across an inhabited district to
the chief Seriba of Idrees Wod Defter, situated on a river flowing to
the north-west. The Kredy tribes of the district are called Bia and
Mehre; the local chief is named Gariaongoh.
_Seventh day._—Five hours’ march to the west to a subsidiary Seriba
belonging to Idrees, called Adya, after the Kredy tribe of the district.
_Eighth day._—Long day’s march of eight or nine leagues across the
wilderness.
_Ninth day._—Half a day’s march to Idrees’s most westerly Seriba in
Dar Benda, of which the chieftain is named Kobbokobbo. The Benda are an
independent nation, with their own dialect.
_Tenth day._—Seven or eight hours to the great river, said to flow
here in an easterly direction, and requiring to be crossed in boats
at all seasons; the population on the banks is composed of the
ivory-trading Aboo Dinga, and the land is called Dar Dinga, or Dar
Aboo Dinga. A king, known to the Nubians by the name of Ayah, to whom
several chieftains are tributary, resides to the north-west of Idrees
Wod Defter’s chief Seriba. Dar Dinga is also the resort for many slave
caravans under the management of the great dealers from Darfoor and
Kordofan. The companies of Seebehr Rahama, Seebehr Adlan, and Agahd,
likewise visit the country to purchase ivory from the chieftains.
B.—YUMMA’S ROUTE TO THE W.S.W. FROM DEHM
BEKEER TO THE RESIDENCE OF MOFIO.
_First day._—Six or eight leagues to the last villages of the Sehre:
they belong to Kurshook Ali’s territory, and the Sheikh is named
Sahtsy. His residence is situated on a small river, named the Ville or
Wille, that is said to flow in a north-western direction, and to belong
to the system of the river of Dar Dinga: it is at no part of the year
less than twenty feet deep.
_Second day to Eighth day (inclusive)._—Seven long days’ marches over
uninhabited wildernesses to the borders of Mofio’s territory, where his
behnky Boborungoo has his mbanga.
_Ninth day._—A short march over cultivated land to the residence of
the sub-chieftain Bakomoro.
_Tenth day._—A long march mostly through wild forest to the residence
of Kanso, a behnky of Mofio’s.
_Eleventh day._—The road turns to the north-west and leads by a long
day’s march to the behnky Abindee. A river flowing towards the north is
crossed here; it is named the Ngango, and after joining the Welle or
river of Sahtsy, flows into the great river of Dar Dinga, farther to
the north-west. In its lower course the stream is known as the Mboma.
_Twelfth day._—Half a day’s march to the mbanga of Gazima, the
sub-chieftain in command of the district and a brother of Mofio’s.
_Thirteenth and Fourteenth days._—Two days’ march to the residence
of Mofio, only a good day’s journey to the south-west of Idrees Wod
Defter’s chief Seriba. The river on which it is situated is said to be
called the Mbette, and to flow into the Mboma.
C.—ROUTE TO THE S.S.E. FROM DEHM BEKEER TO
SOLONGOH’S RESIDENCE.
_First day._—An ordinary day’s march across the Ngudduroo and the Djee
(leaving the Kokkuloo hill on the left) to the brook Biserry, which
has been followed by Nubians, and found to join the Wow. Unless the
rainfall has been very excessive, the brook may be waded even during
the Khareef. Mount Daragumba lies about two hours to the south of the
passage over the Biserry.
_Second day._—A good day’s march to the south-west across the
wilderness to a little brook, named the Kommoh, said to flow into the
Biserry.
_Third day._—The Dar (or inhabited land) of Solongoh’s territory is
reached towards evening. Night spent at the residence of Karya, the
chieftain’s behnky and brother.
_Fourth day._—The road bends more to the south, and leads by a long
day’s march to the mbanga of another sub-chieftain, named Ndundo, also
a brother of Solongoh.
_Fifth day._—South-west to Yagganda, a third brother and behnky of the
chieftain. Mount Yahre is passed on the east.
_Sixth day._—Across the Nomatina or Nomatilla, a copious river,
declared by the Niam-niam to be identical with the Wow, which in its
lower course in Bongoland they call the Nomatilla. Half-a-day’s journey
to the mbanga of Solongoh.
Two days’ march to the north-east from Solongoh lies Kurshook Ali’s
Seriba Aboo Shatter, in the land of the Bellanda, which for the most
part belongs to Solongoh. About half-way there stands the residence of
a behnky of the chieftain, named Ndimma; and a day’s journey north of
Kurshook Ali’s settlement lives another sub-chieftain, named Mamah;
consequently the Seriba forms an enclave in Solongoh’s territory.
Solongoh’s father was named Borrongboh or Bongorboh, and was the
brother of Mofio and Zaboora.
D.—YUMMA’S ROUTE TO THE SOUTH FROM DEHM
BEKEER TO YAFFATY AND INGIMMA.
_First and Second day._—Two days to the S.S.W., across uninhabited
frontier wildernesses.
_Third day._—Towards evening is reached the residence of the small
chieftain Yaffaty or Yapaty, the son of Zaboora, who had shaken off his
allegiance to his brother Mofio.
_Fourth day._—A moderate day’s march to the south to the residence of
Bogwa Riffio, a behnky and brother of Yaffaty.
_Fifth day._—Across the brook Mbomoo, flowing northwards, and said to
empty itself into the Nomatilla, to Boggwa Yango, a sub-chieftain of
Bombo.
_Sixth day._—An ordinary day’s march to the mbanga of the powerful
chief Bombo. A day’s journey to the north-west is the residence of
Nembo, and about the same distance to the north-east that of Nzembe,
both of these are brothers and sub-chieftains of Bombo.
_Seventh and Eighth days._—Through uninhabited wildernesses.
_Ninth day._—Across a great navigable river said to pass through the
territory of a chieftain named Sena, whose residence lies to the east
of the route; on this account the Nubians call the stream the river of
Sena. By the Niam-Niam it is called the Ware.
_Tenth day._—To the residence of a son of Ezo (not to be confounded
with the chief of the same name, who was the father of Ndoruma and
Ugetto) on the river of Sena, said to be identical with the river of
Wando (the Mbrwole).
_Eleventh and Twelfth days._—Through inhabited country, the territory
of the old, decrepit chieftain Ezo. Two long marches to the south of
the river is the residence of Ingimma, the most powerful of the sons of
Ezo.
_Thirteenth and Fourteenth days._—Half-a-day’s march beyond Ingimma’s
territory is the great River of Kanna, known as the Welle. After
crossing the river to the south of Ingimma’s residence, that of Kanna
is reached in two days’ journey to the east.
E.—ADERAHMAN ABOO GUROON’S ROUTE TO THE
S. FROM HIS CHIEF SERIBA TO THE NIAM-NIAM
AND MONBUTTOO.
_First day._—Eight hours to the south-west to Kurshook Ali’s Seriba
Nguddo.
_Second day._—Six hours to the south: night in the wilderness.
_Third day._—Half-a-day’s march to Aboo Guroon’s Seriba Mahah, on the
brook Lako.
_Fourth day._—Seven hours’ march to the S.S.W. to Gebel Reggeb, where
Aboo Guroon has his small Seriba Hibboo.
_Fifth day._—Half-a-day’s march to the south-east to the little Seriba
Mbellembey, the joint possession of Aboo Guroon and Ghattas. The local
chief of the Bongo in Mbellembey is named Ghirrah.
_Sixth day._—Half a day’s march to the south-east to Ghattas’s Seriba
Gebel Higgoo, on the southern frontier of the Bongo country.
_Seventh day._—To the south-west, leaving the territory of Mundo
(Babuckur) on the east. Eight hours across the wilderness to Aboo
Guroon’s Seriba on the northern frontier of the Niam-niam country. The
Seriba was under the control of a Niam-niam slave, named Fomboa, and
was destroyed in 1870 by Ndoruma. The name of the local chief was Ukweh.
_Eighth day._—To the south, across the Sway (Dyoor). Night-camp in the
wilderness on the Bikky.
_Ninth day._—A long day’s march of about nine hours across the
wilderness to the south-west, to the residence of Dukkoo, a brother and
sub-chieftain of Ndoruma.
_Tenth day._—A long march to the south and west, the residence of
Mbory, a behnky of Ndoruma. Half-way lies the spot where Ndoruma
attacked and defeated the united companies in 1870.
_Eleventh day._—A whole day’s march to the residence of Ndoruma on the
Barah, a brook that is said to empty itself into the Bikky. Ndoruma is
the most powerful of the reigning sons of Ezo.
_Twelfth day._—Half-a-day’s march to the mbanga of Gettwa or Ngetto, a
brother of Ndoruma and an independent chieftain; his lands lie to the
south of Ndoruma’s.
_Thirteenth day._—An ordinary day’s march to the south-east, to the
village of Mashmany, a behnky of Ngetto.
_Fourteenth day._—Long march to the south-east across uninhabited
country.
_Fifteenth day._—Half a day’s march to the territory of Malingde. In
the middle of the day is reached the village of Owra, a son of the
wealthy chieftain.
_Sixteenth day._—A whole day’s march to the south-east, to the village
of a local overseer under Owra, named Bazway.
_Seventeenth day._—Half-a-day’s march to the residence of Malingde or
Marindo, one of the numerous sons of Bazimbey.
_Eighteenth day._—A whole day’s march to the W.S.W., to the residence
of Malingde’s behnky Bahzia.
_Nineteenth day._—A long day’s march to the south-east, to the
villages of Malingde’s behnky Yaganda.
_Twentieth day._—Across uninhabited country: night in the wilderness.
_Twenty-first day._—Half a day’s march to the residence of Wando’s
behnky Bagbatta.
_Twenty-second day._—A long day’s march to the river of Wando
(Mbrwole): night on the banks. This stream is said to pass through the
territories of Sena and Indimma; in its lower course it bears the name
of the Ware.
_Twenty-third day._—Through the remainder of the border wilderness on
to the territory of Izingerria (in Munza’s dominions) near the villages
of his behnky Dedda.
_Twenty-fourth day._—Southwards to the numerous villages of
Izingerria’s territory.
_Twenty-fifth day._—In the same direction to the residence of one of
Izingerria’s behnkys.
_Twenty-sixth day._—A short march to the residence of Izingerria
himself.
F.—AHMED AWAT’S ROUTE TO THE S.W. FROM
NDORUMA TO EZO.
_First day._—A good day’s march to the west, to the residence of
Ndoruma’s behnky Komunda.
_Second day._—In the same direction to the residence of Tumafee,
another behnky of Ndoruma.
_Third day._—To the residence of Mbanzuro, a brother and sub-chieftain
of Ndoruma.
_Fourth day._—To the residence of Ndoruma’s behnky Byazingee.
_Fifth and Sixth days._—In a south-western direction across
uninhabited regions.
_Seventh day._—Half a day’s march to Baria’s territory: halt at the
border villages.
_Eighth day._—A day’s march through populous districts to Baria’s
residence, near which Ahmed Awat, Hassaballa’s head-controller, has
erected a Seriba. Baria is an old friend and ally of the company.
_Ninth day._—A good day’s march to the south, to the residence of
Sango, a brother and sub-chieftain of Ndoruma.
_Tenth and Eleventh days._—Across uninhabited country; two nights in
the wilderness.
_Twelfth day._—A day’s march to the abode of Ndenny, a son and former
behnky of the deceased Sena.
_Thirteenth day._—To the residence of Baziboh, the son of Sena, now an
independent chieftain.
_Fourteenth day._—To the Gangara mountains, the home of the A-Madi and
their kindred tribe the Imberry.
_Fifteenth and Sixteenth days._—Through populated districts to the
residence of the old chieftain Ezo.
G.—ROUTE FROM KURSHOOK ALI’S CHIEF SERIBA
ON THE DYOOR TO ABOO SHATTER, IN THE DISTRICT
OF THE BELLANDA.
_First day._—Eight hours’ march to the south-west and south, through
Hassaballa’s small Seriba to Kurshook Ali’s subsidiary Seriba Mittoo in
Bongoland.
_Second day._—Six. hours’ march to the south, to a second Seriba
belonging to the same company, and called Longo. A small Seriba of
Agahd’s lies to the east of the route: it is called Mbor, and is not
far from the left bank of the Dyoor.
_Third day._—Seven or eight leagues to the site of a former Seriba of
Kurshook Ali, named Murr.
_Fourth day._—Across the frontier wilderness on the south of the Bongo
territory: night in the wilderness.
_Fifth day._—A short march to the border villages of the Bellanda,
under the control of a behnky of the Niam-niam chieftain Solongoh.
_Sixth day._—Half-a-day’s march to Aboo Shatter, a lofty isolated
mountain, from the summit of which all the detached hills of southern
Bongoland and the mountains of Mundo (Babuckur) are said to be visible.
The local chief of the Bellanda, under Kurshook Ali’s jurisdiction, is
named Akoo, whilst the chief of the Niam-niam, tributary to Solongoh,
is said to be Bongurr. Six hours to the north-east of Aboo Shatter is
a second Bellanda Seriba, belonging to Kurshook Ali, called Dongoh:
it is said to be near the left bank of the Dyoor. Six hours farther to
the east, and beyond the river, is a third Seriba belonging to this
company, named Asalla. A few hours to the north of Asalla are Aboo
Guroon’s Bongo Seribas, called Gebel Regheb and Abooleghee by the
Nubians, after the Bongo Sheikh of the district. The native name for
Abooleghee is Karey, that of Gebel Reggeb being Hibboo.
H.—ROUTE TO THE SOUTH FROM KULONGO TO
GEBEL HIGGOO AND MUNDO.
_First day._—Five hours to the S.S.W. to Kurshook Ali’s small Seriba
Kileby. Four hours to the west of Kileby lies the small Seriba Ngorr,
belonging to the same company.
_Second day._—Seven hours’ march to Ghattas’s subsidiary Seriba Mboh,
of which the local chief of the Bongo is named Doliba. A deserted
Seriba of Kurshook Ali’s, of which the local chief was named Abrass,
is passed on the road. Two considerable brooks (the Molmul and the
Nyedokoo?) are crossed between Kileby and Mboh.
_Third day._—Six or seven hours to Ghattas’s Seriba Doggaia, of which
the local chief is named Bonyira.
_Fourth day._—Four hours’ march to Ghattas’s Seriba on Gebel Higgoo.
The Bongo district is called Longo, the local chief Higgoo. Three
hours to the east is a much frequented Seriba belonging to Ghattas;
it is situated on the so-called Gebel Shiteta (cayenne-pepper hill),
and called Roome by the Bongo. The local overseer of the district is
named Bomadioh. Sabby lies two days’ march east of Gebel Shiteta; after
crossing the Tondy the road leads on the first day through the village
of the Bongo sheikh Guiya, who is in Aboo Sammat’s territory. Mundo
lies only two leagues to the south of Gebel Higgoo; the route to the
Niam-niam lands across this mountainous region of the Babuckur leads
through a dangerous defile, where travellers are often attacked by the
natives. This is the Mundo visited by J. Petherick in February 1858,
the name of the places which he passed are given by him in the Bongo
dialect, and several of them, such as Yow, Dangah, Mabah, Murr, and
Lungo, are retained to the present time.
APPENDIX III
[Illustration]
LIST OF MAMMALIA OBSERVED DURING MY
TRAVELS FROM THE GAZELLE.
(WITH THEIR NATIVE NAMES).[99]
1. _Troglodytes niger._ Geoff. (Variety: _Schweinfurthii._ Gigl.)
Bongo: Dadda.
Niam-niam: Irangba or Manjarooma.
Monbuttoo: Nohzo.
Sehre: Sango.
2. _Colobus guereza._ Rüpp.
Bongo: Ndollo.
Niam-niam: Mbeggeh.
3. _Cercopithecus griseoviridis._ Desm.
Dyoor: Ngero or Angehro.
Bongo: Manga.
Niam-niam: Ngalangala.
Kredy: Ohlo.
4. _Cercopithecus pyrrhonotus._ Ehrb.
Dinka: Agohk.
Dyoor: Abworro.
Bongo: Gumbi.
Niam-niam: Gungbeh.
Golo: Toggwa.
Kredy: Nyagga.
5. _Cercopithecus pygerythrus._ F. Cuv.
Niam-niam: Ndumm.
6. _Cynocephalus Babuin._ Desm.
Dyoor: Bimm.
Bongo: Kungah.
Niam-niam: Bokkoo.
7. _Cynocephalus sp._
Sehre: Mbeeri.
Golo: Filli.
Kredy: Booroo.
8. _Otolicnus Teng._ Geoffr. (_Galago senegalensis._ F. Cuvier.)
Dinka: Londorr or Nehngby.
Dyoor: Anyoi or Anynai.
Bongo: Ndohr.
Niam-niam: Bakumbosso.
9. _Otolicnus Pelei._ Temm. (_Galago Demidoffii_ Fisch.)
Niam-niam: Mbottoo.
10. _Megaderma frons._ Geoffr.
11. _Vesperugo sp._
Bongo: Beeroo.
Niam-niam: Tooreb.
12. _Scotophilus leucogaster._ Geoffr.
13. _Nycteris hispida._ Geoffr.
14. _Phyllorrhina caffra._ Lund.
15. _Erinaceus sp._
Dyoor: Ohkoddo.
Bongo: Ndudoopirakpeh.
Niam-niam: Dunduleh.
Golo: Iddoo.
Kredy: Ohko.
Sehre: Mbarra.
16. _Sorex sp._
Dyoor: Ushull.
Bongo: Tondo, or Shondo.
Niam-niam: Ndelly.
Golo: Diffee.
Kredy: Djanje-kreie.
17. _Ratelus capensis._ G. Cuv.
Dyoor: Ogang.
Bongo: Nyirr.
Niam-niam: Torubale.
18. _Lutra inunguis._ F. Cuv.?
Niam-niam: Limmu.
19. _Canis familiaris._ L.
Dinka: Dyong.
Dyoor: Grook.
Bongo: Bihee.
Niam-niam: Ango.
Mittoo: Weehy.
Golo: Ovio.
Kredy: Kohno.
Sehre: Borro.
Monbuttoo: Nessy.
20. _Canis variegatus._ Cretschm. (_C. aureus auctorum._)
Dinka: Awaun.
Dyoor: Toh.
Bongo: Galah.
Niam-niam: Hoah.
Kredy: Glommu.
Golo: Ndaggeh.
Sehre: Ndeh.
21. _Canis pictus._ Desm.
Dinka: Kwaty.
Bongo: Well.
Niam-niam: Tiah.
Sehre: Sahr.
22. _Octocyon Lalandii._ H. Sm.?
Dinka: Paudey.
23. _Hyæna crocata._ Zimm.
Dinka: Angwee.
Dyoor: Utwomm.
Bongo: Heeloo.
Niam-niam: Wegge.
Mittoo: Moddaoo.
Golo: Mboo.
Sehre: Mboh.
24. _Viverra civetta._ Schreb.
Dyoor: Yuoll.
Bongo: Kurrukkoo.
Niam-niam: Teeya.
25. _Viverra genetta._ L.
Dinka: Augonn.
Dyoor: Anyara.
Bongo: Dongoh.
Niam-niam: Mbellee.
Golo: Nifah.
Kredy: Ndilly.
Sehre: Mehre.
26. _Herpestes fasciatus._ Desm.
Dinka: Agorr.
Dyoor: Gorr.
Bongo: Ngorr, or Dai.
Niam-niam: Nduttwah.
27. _Felis leo._ L.
Dinka: Kohr.
Dyoor: Moo.
Bongo: Pull.
Niam-niam: Mbongonoo.
Golo: Singilee.
Kredy: Ganye-kaza.
Sehre: Sirringinny.
28. _Felis leopardus._ Schreb.
Dyoor: Kwaty.
Bongo: Koggo.
Niam-niam: Mamah.
Kredy: Sellembey.
29. _Felis caracal._ L.
Dyoor: Nwoi.
Bongo: Mudyokpollah.
Niam-niam: Mobboroo.
30. _Felis serval._ Schreb.
Dinka: Dohk.
Bongo: Gregge.
Niam-niam: Ngaffoo.
31. _Felis maniculata._ Temm: Rüpp.
Dinka: Angow.
Dyoor: Bang, or Gwang.
Bongo: Mbira-oo.
Niam-niam: Dandalah.
Golo: Dahve.
Kredy: Lehje.
Sehre: Sahte.
Mittoo: Ngorroh.
32. _Sciurus leucumbrinus._ Rüpp.
Dyoor: Aiyeda.
Bongo: Remme.
Niam-niam: Bederry.
33. _Sciurus superciliaris._ A. Wagn.
Dinka: Allohl.
Dyoor: Anynai.
Bongo: Urenge.
Niam-niam: Bamumba, or Bakumbah.
Golo: Angah.
Sehre: Serenna.
34. _Mus decumanus._ Pall.
Bongo: Luny.
Niam-niam: Gwah.
35. _Mus alexandrinus._ Geoffr.
Dinka: Lohk.
Bongo: Higgeh-roo, or Rohpattah.
Niam-niam: Babilly.
Kredy: Ohtoh.
Sehre: Dyoo.
36. _Golunda pulchella._ Gray.
Dinka: Manyang.
Dyoor: Weeo.
Bongo: Yangah.
Niam-niam: Sikka.
Golo: Ngadze.
Mittoo: Gaggah.
37. _Meriones Burtonii._ A. Wagn.
Dinka: Maval kondo.
Dyoor: Omadda.
Bongo: Mokokoh, or Higgehnyakkah.
Niam-niam: Zakadda.
Golo: Fyako.
Kredy: Iltee.
Sehre: Dyoo.
38. _Mus gentilis._ Brants.
Bongo: Mangbelle.
Niam-niam: Ndekkitelly.
39. _Aulacodus Swinderianus._ Temm.
Bongo: Bohko.
Dinka: Lony.
Dyoor: Nyanyahr.
Niam-niam: Remvo or Alimvoh.
Golo: Elle.
Sehre: Abattara.
Kredy: Mbadja.
Mittoo: Wohko.
40. _Lepus æthiopipus._ Ehrbg.
Dinka: Anyorr.
Dyoor: Ap-woio.
Bongo: Battah.
Niam-niam: Ndekutteh.
Kredy: Ohzo.
41. _Hystrix cristata._ L.
Dyoor: Shyow.
Bongo: Kehoa.
Niam-niam: Nzingeneh.
42. _Orycteropus æthiopicus._ Sundev.
Dyoor: Mohk.
Niam-niam: Kahre.
43. _Manis Temminckii._ Sund.
Dyoor: Kong.
Bongo: Konn.
Niam-niam: Bashishee.
44. _Elephas africanus._ Blum.
Dinka: Akonn.
Dyoor: Lyady.
Bongo: Kiddy.
Niam-niam: Mbarah.
Mittoo: Kiddy.
Golo: Offio.
Kredy: Morrongoh.
Sehre: Shah.