February the 6th was a market-day in Zegi. In the morning we mounted
our mules and went to visit St. George’s Church. Hyli was studying
in the theological school attached to this round, thatched place
of worship, which resembled in all respects the others that we had
seen in the country. When the Chief Priest had received a suitable
offering, our Abyssinian friend took us to his house, and here, for
courtesy’s sake, we were obliged to drink _tedj_—a vile, bitter
draught. We had escaped it on other occasions. The composition of it
has been mentioned elsewhere. Hyli was very anxious that we should
stay and eat a meal with him—doubtless it would have consisted
chiefly of raw meat smothered with red pepper and sour _teff_
bread—but we managed to excuse ourselves from this ordeal. On our
way back to camp we passed through the market-place, which was now
thronged. I do not know whether any European had been seen there
before; but in any case we were objects of the utmost curiosity,
and the people pressed around us so thickly that we had a difficulty
in making our way through them.
In the afternoon I returned to the market for the purpose of obtaining
snap-shots. It is held on the top of a stretch of rising ground,
under the shadow of some half a dozen big trees. Under each tree was
a large stone. On market-days a priest from each of the different
churches stands on the stone allotted to his parish. These men are
striking figures, clad in their ecclesiastical vesture, of which
a large white turban and a shama with a broad red border are the
conspicuous features. The parishioners from the different districts
squat around their pastor near the stone, and the priest takes
tithe in kind upon the spot when any member of his flock completes a
purchase or a sale. Our people bought some grain and two sheep. The
ruling prices were: for an ox (without the hide), seven shillings;
for a sheep, two shillings.
[Illustration: MARKET DAY AT ZEGI.
_See p._ 162.]
In one of the photographs which I obtained, the curious plaits in
which the married women wear their hair are clearly shown. Stern
thus describes the manner in which the _coiffure_ is preserved
from disarrangement at night. “The woman whose hair has undergone
the tedious process of plaiting, must also have it protected from
becoming dishevelled while she sleeps; and as this cannot so easily
be done in a country where a bullock’s hide or a mat forms the bed,
necessity has contrived a bowl-shaped stool, in which the neck is
wedged. . . . In Abyssinia, where the women are particularly proud of
their copper-coloured charms, very few, even on a journey and with
fifty pounds weight on their backs, will forget to take the wooden
pillow and the hollow grease-filled gourd,” from the contents of
which the hair is “dressed.”[100]
I purchased a leopard’s skin in the market for a dollar, but it was
not a good specimen. During the afternoon I received a visit from
another Abyssinian artist, who presented me with two pictures in
return for a black lead-pencil and a part of a blue one. And I had
a constant stream of patients, who claimed attention very freely. I
am bound to say that the maladies from which the majority of them
suffered fully justified the allegation of Dr. Stecker, to which I
have already referred.
The letter from the Ras to the Fituari’s son was delivered early in
the morning. In the evening we heard that no sooner had he received
it than he disappeared, and nobody seemed to know his whereabouts. No
doubt it was his intention to declare afterwards that he had not
been in the village when we arrived. If his conduct came to the
Ras’s knowledge, I have little doubt the vainglorious youth was
flogged—this has been the penalty inflicted on other Habashes
who have shown rudeness to travellers provided with the King’s
safe-conduct letter.
Our tents at Zegi were in a pleasant position, under a spreading fig
tree; these trees are found throughout Abyssinia and in the “rain
country,” and give abundant shade. I have never seen them growing
thickly, in a clump.
We made an early start on the morning of February the 7th, and trotted
ahead at a good speed, as the donkeys were very fresh after their
rest. The country is similar to that which we traversed in approaching
Zegi. At eleven o’clock we reached the bank of the Abai. At the
ford where we were to cross, it is a broad river, more than a hundred
yards in width, as I should judge. The water was running in a fairly
rapid current, and I was told that the stream is perennial. The banks
of the river are steep, and the bed is stony. The water, at that
season of the year, was almost clear. But during the rains, when the
stream is in flood, it brings down vast quantities of the deposits
of the white ants and other detritus. The flat island of Dek has been
formed by siltage of alluvial soil thus brought, and it is matter in
solution which renders the course of the Abai traceable in Lake Tsana.
At the ford we found that the water came just above a man’s
knee. The crossing gave us little trouble, and there was no serious
mishap. The larger loads and our valises—of the “Wolseley”
pattern—were wetted, but the sun soon dried them. One donkey
collapsed, and fell with his burden into the stream about two yards
from the further bank; but there were many to help, and he was soon
put on his feet again. He was not carrying anything which would be
ruined by a soaking. The rise beyond the ford was steep, and the
drippings from the wet animals made it slippery, so we had to throw
earth on it to give them a foothold, as in crossing the Gelda.
After passing the Abai, we entered a flat district full of the long
dry grass, of which we had seen so much on the north side of the
lake. The country hereabouts is full of the kind of gazelle called
_oribi_. We had not elsewhere in Abyssinia found these creatures
in herds. Game birds abound in this region, which appeared to be
almost deserted. We passed scarcely any villages, and those which
we saw consisted of only five or six huts.
Our camping-ground was an open space not far from a papyrus swamp. We
should not have selected this spot by choice, as the proximity of
marshy soil was a danger to health. But we were obliged to halt there
because no water was to be had for a considerable distance on the road
ahead. All around were ruins of houses built of stone, with thatched
roofs that had fallen in. The number of them showed that a town or a
large village must have existed here at one time. Stone dwellings are
not usual in this region, and I inquired what the name of the place
was and tried to learn its history, but could get no information.
Dupuis and Crawley went out with their rifles, and added three
oribis to the store in the larder. I stayed in camp “on duty,”
and after treating a patient sat reading outside my tent. My servant
rushed up to me, and said that I was wanted to shoot a snake that
had crept under some brushwood. I hastened to unpack my gun and
ran after the boy, and soon came to where our men, in a state of
great excitement, had formed a cordon round a patch of dry grass,
to which they had set fire. Finally the snake came out, and all our
fellows shouted at it. They were in mortal terror of it, as a fact,
and certainly it looked “an ugly customer.” It was too big to be
stopped by shot unless I could make sure of hitting it in the head,
and this I was not able to manage before it crawled under a saddle
belonging to one of the soldiers. The saddle was lifted by the aid
of a long pole, and in a moment the snake’s head was smashed by
the same means. I measured it, and found that it was just over two
yards in length. The back was brown and the belly white, and the
skull had the typical shape of the adder family. Generally speaking,
we saw fewer reptiles in Abyssinia than we had expected.
After this incident, I strolled round the camp with my gun, and
presently noticed a little grey animal scampering among the stones
of a ruined house. It was of the same colour exactly as the stones,
but presently I believed I could discern an eye, and, being anxious
to ascertain what creature it was, took aim and fired. I walked up
to the spot but found nothing, looked around and wondered how the
animal could have vanished. At the moment I heard the rustling of a
leaf beyond the tumbledown wall on the left, and, guided by the sound,
discovered the animal just dead. It was a specimen of the hyrax—an
interesting creature to biologists, which Huxley described as “the
type of a distinct order, in many respects intermediate between the
_Ungulata_, on the one hand, and _Rodentia_ and _Insectivora_ on
the other.”[101] It is found only in Syria and Africa. I thought
the skin worth preserving, and one of the soldiers flayed it for me.
On Sunday, February 8, our road lay, for the most part, at some little
distance from the lake, which was out of sight till the end of the
journey. We plodded on through long grass and past burnt patches. The
track is only about a foot wide, and in consequence the loads of the
donkeys extended beyond it on either side. When they were among the
tall growth they had to sweep it aside from their burden as they went,
and this tired them greatly.
We reached the edge of the lake at two o’clock, after an unbroken
journey of six and a half hours, and pitched our camp. About two
hundred yards from the shore five hippos were standing, well clear
of the water. They looked for all the world like rocks, even when we
brought field-glasses to bear on them. After lunch Crawley had the
Berthon boat put together, and I rowed him towards the hippos. When we
were within a hundred yards of them, I considered that the range was
quite short enough to give the marksman an opportunity of displaying
his skill, and he got no nearer. He began practice at once, but the
boat was pitching rather sharply, and this made aiming with the
rifle almost chance-work. Presently the sport became like firing
at disappearing targets, for the hippos rose only once in two or
three minutes to breathe. If they had taken my friend seriously,
we should probably not have left Lake Tsana, and I felt relieved
when he had had enough of the pastime and we rowed ashore.
Various small offerings of milk and bread reached us from the hamlets
around. The milk is always sour. The Habashes do not drink it when
it is fresh, and as a consequence they never wash the gourds in which
they keep it, because it “turns” sooner in a dirty receptacle. At
a few places we were able to have the cows brought into camp, and
stored the milk in our own vessels, but this was impossible when we
only remained one night on a camping-ground.
That evening Johannes, the interpreter, had a touch of fever. On
the previous night his tent had been close to the papyrus swamp,
and this, no doubt, accounted for the attack.
On the following day, February 9, our road lay through more broken
country and more pleasing scenery. The track led us up hills, and
down them, and between them, and sometimes close beside the lake. I
saw no trees in this region but mimosas; the ground was covered
in places by mimosa scrub, in others by dry grass. We made a march
of seventeen miles, as we reckoned, a longer distance than we had
travelled on the previous day. The donkeys were tired out at the
end of the journey. Some stood still and refused to move, others
lay down under their burdens in the path. We camped on the shore
of the lake, at a spot very similar to that which we had chosen for
our last halting-place.
The interpreter’s fever had yielded considerably to the usual
quinine treatment, and he seemed very little the worse for his long
ride in the heat.
In the evening the wind rose and presently blew hard enough to make
me wonder whether my tent would collapse or not. I observed that
very soon enough wash was knocked up in the deeper water to stop
the headway of a rowing-boat. The lake would be a perfect place for
fishing and sailing in the dry season. But without experience and
watchfulness, risks would arise—quite apart from the humours of
the hippopotami.[102]
On Tuesday, February 10, after a journey of about twelve miles through
tall grass that impeded our baggage-train, we reached the village of
Delgi, and pitched our camp upon the same ground which we had chosen
for our first halting-place beside the lake. To the best of my belief,
we were the only Europeans who had ever completed the circuit of this
lovely reservoir of the Nile—the distance in all is one hundred
and sixty to one hundred and seventy miles. Those who love regions
beyond the outposts of our civilization, where the tourist ceases
from troubling, could not seek isolation amid sweeter surroundings
than this sunlit lake, these tropical mountains, and the quaint,
quiet hamlets of a primitive people, who as yet, thank Heaven,
have not been infected with “Yankee hustle.”
The level of the surface of the water had sunk perceptibly since we
were here a month ago, and many rocks were now visible which had then
been covered. But I do not think the variation between the maximum
height in the rainy season and the minimum in the dry is very great;
I doubt if it exceeds eight or ten feet.
At midday we noticed that the climate into which we had come in the
north-west corner of the lake was distinctly warmer than that of the
other parts. We remembered the Soudan, towards which our faces were
set, and knew that in the heat there we should think longingly of the
waterside, in spite of all the worries inseparable from travelling
in Abyssinia.
The “Sultan” of Delgi came to camp to welcome us as soon as
he heard of our arrival. It was pleasant to meet this cheery,
genial old Habash again, and his visit put us in good spirits. He
brought us a couple of chickens and some bread, and we showed our
hospitality by offering him chartreuse. He drank half a pint at a
draught without “turning a hair,” seemed none the worse for it,
and wanted more. A man who remains sober after that performance must
have a sound head and a strong body, but I do not recommend even
the hardiest of my readers to attempt the feat. The Abyssinians who
survive have inured their stomachs to excesses of abstinence from
food as well as gluttonous excesses, an unwholesome and repulsive
diet and the abuse of condiments, and they have constitutions _à
toute épreuve_. I may mention that the children, who would be the
first to suffer from bad climatic conditions, and the women seemed,
as a body, fairly healthy, though they eat raw flesh like the men
and suffer from the consequent parasitical trouble.
Nothing was mentioned or seen of the “Deputy” who had tried to
prevent us from reaching the lake. But we made kindly inquiry for
the “Sultan’s” wife, who had shown us goodwill and sent us
bread and _tedj_ on our first arrival, and were glad to hear that
the lady was in good health. At nightfall we saw that the grass was
blazing in two places, and it was interesting to observe with what
extraordinary swiftness the flames ran over the ground when the
breeze from the lake fanned them.
[Illustration: INTERVIEWING THE SULTAN OF DELGI.
_See p._ 170.]
[Illustration: THE SULTAN OF DELGI, AN OLD PRIEST, AND SLAVE CARRYING
THE SHIELD.
_See p._ 170.]
We had determined to show our liking for the “Sultan” by treating
him handsomely when we gave the customary presents. He came into
camp next day (February 11) as soon as we had finished breakfast,
and we arranged the gifts on the table. They were a revolver, a
folding-chair, a bottle of chartreuse, and a red silk cummerbund for
his consort. He appeared to be well pleased and thanked us, through
Johannes, with all the formalities of the country. We suggested
that he should come for a row in the Berthon boat, but he backed
out of this immediately. Then he had his new folding-chair carried
to the shore, and sat there surrounded by his bodyguard, a force
which would have had a great success in a pantomime. He followed
our movements with much interest while we put the boat together,
but he was plainly apprehensive when Crawley tested in still water
the electric current-meter which he had used in calculating the
outflow from the lake into the Blue Nile. It made a buzzing noise,
and I think he suspected that it might “go off” at any moment. He
remarked that it was _a watch_ for the water, but he soon retired,
followed by his comedians under arms.
Everything in camp that could be cleaned in water was washed in the
lake during the day, and the ground near our tents looked like an
improvised laundry. It was strewn in all directions with articles
spread out to dry. Those boys who had no change of garments, stayed
in the water while their clothes were aired in the sunshine, and
enjoyed it.
Both Christians and Mussulmans received an ox on this day in order
that they might make biltong for the journey. We bought flour and
grain and sheep and fowls, and laid in as large a stock of provisions
as we could carry for use in the uninhabited borderland between
Delgi and Gallabat.
February 12 was our last day beside Lake Tsana, and the prospect of
leaving it filled me with regret. The “Sultan” came into camp
again, and in answer to one or two questions gave us the following
information: that the rainfall on the margin of the lake in the wet
season is not great; the heavy rains descend upon the heights around,
and the floods are carried down the rivers and khors in overwhelming
torrents, so that all the watercourses are then impassable. This
circumstance, of course, has a very important bearing on the
possibility of a commercial development of the region.
Before quitting the subject, I will bring to the reader’s notice
Dr. Stecker’s thoughtful conclusions as to the present relation
of the River Abai to Lake Tsana:—
“I made another extremely interesting discovery in the Gorgora
mountains, viz. of a remarkable shell, which by its character reminds
one of the oyster.[103] We found both the shells and the living
creatures in abundance on the shore. With lemon juice they taste like
genuine oysters. But it is remarkable that I had already found this
species in the Blue Nile, and that I found it later on the island of
Dek, enclosed in unmistakable volcanic rock (tuff). I can only offer
this explanation, that, at a time when Lake Tsana already existed,
a great eruption took place in the south. According to my view the
lake had its origin in tertiary times as a consequence of a great
volcanic movement in the north (at the Gorgora range). The Abai,
which was previously an unimportant stream, and described the great
curve which is indicated on my map by arrows, and now carries it
round Dek and Dega, was forced in consequence to the south-western
and southern shores, though its original course can still be
traced quite distinctly. The second volcanic movement took place,
according to my opinion, in the south, and the islands of Dek[104]
and Dega in Lake Tsana owe their origin to it, as do a whole series
of islands beside the eastern shore of the lake and the masses of
rock of volcanic origin which encumber the course of the Blue Nile
and lie scattered in the whole valley of that river.”[105]
The moon was full that night, and the lake and the mountains formed
a glorious scene, which left in the mind a longing to behold it
again. Lake Tsana has that haunting, attractive power which some
places possess, and which prompts one to return to them in spite of
all that commonsense says about obstacles and discomfort.
On February 13 we made an early start upon our return journey to the
Soudan, and reached the top of the plateau at half-past ten. We saw
nothing, after all, of Hyli’s men; I did not hear why they failed
to join us. As we now retraced our steps over the same ground that we
had traversed on the way to the lake, I shall not give any detailed
account of our progress. In one day’s journey we covered a distance
which had given us an arduous two days’ climb on the upward march,
and we came again into the region of the Soudanese heat. The sequence
of vegetation according to altitude was strikingly apparent during
the descent. Throughout the first half of it we were in the cactus
country, then in the bamboo zone, and, finally, among the mimosas and
desert scrub. The heat proved trying to man and beast. We Europeans
felt fagged and dull; I had three fever patients among our followers
in the evening; and the donkeys straggled into camp jaded and spent.
An incident of the journey will show the nature of the road. A little
while after we had passed the long and narrow gorge which has already
been described, I caught sight of my valise and some other luggage
stacked on a bank. Upon asking why it was there, I found that the
donkey which had carried the load had slipped from the path and had
fallen and rolled about ninety or a hundred feet. The beast seemed
none the worse for the adventure, and the boys were bringing up the
baggage piecemeal from the ledge which had stopped the donkey. I
have no doubt that its burden saved it; a rider might have performed
the same service if his remains had kept in place. A mirror and a
candle-globe which “accomplished the descent” were not injured.
In spite of the steepness and roughness of the path—the mountains
are genuine _sierras_ (saws)—I believe that no great trouble and
expense would be needed to make this approach to Western Abyssinia
easy and safe, but it would be impossible for camels.
On the following day we reached the banks of the River Gerar, on
which there is a thick growth of bamboos. Many of these had fallen
across the track. We were not so much impeded by them as we should
have been but for our previous experience of this part of the road. We
sent men ahead with axes to clear the path as well as they could. In
the evening we lost one of our baggage animals for the first time;
two donkeys fell on the road exhausted. We left them while we moved
on into camp, in the hope that they would recover. One was brought in
later, but the other was found to be in such a helpless and pitiable
state that nothing remained but to put it out of its misery, and it
was shot. Our camp was beside the hot springs which have already
been mentioned. We found in the neighbouring huts apparently the
same company that we had seen on the upward journey. I was not able
to learn anything about the people.
On the following day we left the valley of the Gerar, crossed a high
ridge, and then followed the course of the Shemal Warhar. When we
reached the place where we had pitched our camp before, we found the
trees charred and the ground blackened by fire. There was no shade,
and the water in the pools was very low. So we marched about three
miles to another camping-ground called Ananta. Here water and shade
were plentiful.
On February 16 we reached the bank of the Gundar Warhar. From
midday till three o’clock the thermometer showed a temperature
of 98° F. We had now entered the region in which robber bands are
active. On the 17th we passed two parties of traders and heard from
them our first news of the world outside Abyssinia. This was that
Slatin Pasha had arrived at Gallabat on a tour of inspection. We
thought of Gallabat—by contrast—as a centre of civilization. Our
halting-place was a pleasant, shady spot beside the river-bed,
in which water was abundant. In the afternoon Crawley shot a
water-buck. I secured a much smaller prize in the form of another
civet-cat. We heard that a large crocodile had been seen in a pool
about two hundred yards from camp, but saw nothing of the beast. At
night we were much plagued by mosquitoes and the beetles which
swarm on one and do not bite, but are malodorous in death—a most
perplexing pest.
On the 18th the temperature rose to 101° F. in the shade. We made a
short march, but one of our donkeys succumbed and had to be left for
the vultures. We found that the grass about our former camping-ground
had been trodden down and a part of it burned. The water, too, was
much lower in the pools, the dry season being now far advanced,
though it was still abundant to meet all the requirements likely
to arise in that country before the rains. At this time of the year
the trees cast their leaves, so that there is much less shade along
the track. On the 19th we reached the “warsha,” which is the
first from Gallabat on the road to Abyssinia and the last on the
return journey. The ground was in a filthy state, and it was evident
that many people had encamped at the place since we left it. Water
was plentiful; it was drawn from a deep pool. To our horror, just
as we had settled to rest in our chairs, we saw some of our boys
and camp-followers washing their persons and their clothes in the
water which we were to drink! One of them was a leprous trader. We
raised some first-class trouble about this, and posted a sentry
by the pool. But all we could do was to boil and filter the water
thoroughly—and think of the other people who had bathed in it since
we last tasted it. On Friday, February 20, we arrived at Gallabat.
I will not dilate on the traveller’s delight in seeing again a
batch of envelopes addressed to him in familiar handwriting. It is
one of the pleasures which is becoming rare, but a trip into Western
Abyssinia still provides an opportunity for it. In the town I met
the Doctor of Kassala. He was then making a tour of inspection with
the object of discovering cases of leprosy. The Egyptian Government
has wisely ordained that lepers shall be compulsorily segregated;
there is a hospital for them at Gallabat, which serves as a receiving
station. An attempt is being made to form a colony of these stricken
people, where they may cultivate the land and live by their labour.
The water which we had drunk at “Warsha No. 1” punished us
rather severely for our rashness. And while suffering from this
inward infirmity, I saw the camels that were waiting to wreak their
eccentricities upon us during the remainder of the journey. It
was our intention to follow the upper course of the river Atbara
through Sofi to Kassala. This was formerly a frequented route, but
the Dervishes had destroyed all the villages that stood beside it,
and, as a consequence, the disused track had become impassable. It
was then being repaired, but the work was still some way short of
completion, and it seemed that we might be compelled, after all,
to return as we had come by the road through Gedaref. However,
our chief telegraphed to Mr. Flemming, asking him to send a gang
of men, if possible, to the spot where the track was in the worst
condition, and this he did. So we were able to carry out our plan,
and had the satisfaction of being the first travellers who journeyed
by the repaired highway from Gallabat to Kassala.
On February 22 we paid off the escort and followers who had gone
into Abyssinia with us. Johannes received as presents a revolver
and a watch, the others a gift of money. We found that nearly all
preferred a settlement by means of drafts on Colonel Harrington at
Addis Abbiba. If they carried cash through the “rain country”
they would run a great risk of losing both their money and their
lives. Before we bade farewell to Johannes, he told us that we
had on one occasion, unconsciously, been in no small danger in
Abyssinia. At a certain village a rumour was spread that King
Menelek had sold the lake to the British. The supposed transfer
was by no means to the taste of the Habashes—and we represented
the English interest. Disregarding the niceties of French grammar,
Johannes remarked that he had _beaucoup de peur_ at the time. In
our case ignorance was bliss.
On this day we said good-bye to Zodi. He had decided to return
to his own country with Johannes. We all wished that he could have
finished the journey with us, but felt that we should not be justified
in discharging him finally in a country where he was ignorant of
the language. He took his leave of us, bowing to the ground and
addressing us in his own tongue. His face bore an expression which it
is difficult to describe; he was showing his spotlessly white teeth
in a smile, but he was half crying nevertheless. I have always wished
that I could have engaged him as my servant. He was an excellent and
faithful lad, and I believe that he did us valuable service when
we were near Zegi, and the Fituari’s son was inclined to give
trouble. Zody, as a native of the lakeside (Korata), was able to
influence his neighbours on the opposite shore when a Habash from
another district might have been disregarded or set at naught.
My two companions went out with their rifles in the afternoon, and
there was no slight commotion in Gallabat when they were heard firing
at antelopes in the distance. During our absence, as I have already
mentioned, an Abyssinian band had raided two villages and carried off
thirty-eight men and boys into slavery. The noise of the discharges
made the natives think that the slave-raiders were at their work
again. The very serious political consequences which these incursions
will certainly cause sooner or later have been alluded to before.
It may interest my readers, if, before saying the last word
about Gallabat, I give a brief account of the battle which took
place there in March, 1889, between King John of Abyssinia and the
Dervishes. Perhaps no incident in modern history so strangely combines
the oriental and the mediæval atmospheres, or so oddly illustrates
the effect of weapons of precision in warfare of the biblical type. A
detailed narrative has been given by Mr. Augustus Wylde.[106]
The Dervishes had invaded Abyssinia in 1887, at a time when the
forces of the Negus were scattered. They defeated Tecla Haimanot
and devastated the region to the north of Lake Tsana. In 1888 they
renewed the invasion, but in the meanwhile the King of Godjam’s army
had been reinforced and his troops had been rearmed. The Dervishes
suffered a severe defeat. The Negus completed his preparations in the
winter of 1888-9, and gave notice to the Khalifa of his intention to
march upon Omdurman. The Dervishes massed about seventy thousand men
at Gallabat, where they occupied a large zareba which was protected
by a dyke and some redoubts. They also had artillery in the fort
where the scorpions have now become so formidable. But they were
badly supplied with small-arms, whereas King John’s men had a
plentiful stock of effective rifles of a French pattern.
The Dervish position was surrounded by the Abyssinian army. The
Khalifa’s men were crowded in their enclosure, and, owing to its
construction, could not fire from it without exposing themselves. The
Abyssinian marksmen did terrible execution, and finally a body of
King John’s horse, supported by a hot rifle-fire at short range,
burned the thorns of the zareba at several points and filled up the
ditch. The position was then “rushed,” and only a few of the
Dervishes, aided by the smoke and the confusion, escaped.
“Facing King Johannes’s bodyguard,” says Mr. Wylde, “one small
redoubt, strongly fortified and held by the black slave soldiers of
the Dervishes, still held out, and their rifle-fire was doing some
execution. The King, getting angry that it had not been taken in the
rear by the troops that had entered the sides of the fortifications,
and who were engaged in plundering, went forward to attack it with
his followers. The gaudy dresses worn by his staff, with their silver
shields and the bright silks, drew the fire of the defenders. King
Johannes was struck by a bullet that traversed the lower part of
his arm and entered the intestines near the navel, taking into the
wound a part of his dress. He still gave orders, and kept on the
field till the redoubt was rushed and those in it all killed.”
The King died about twenty-four hours after he was wounded. Quarrels
with regard to the succession immediately commenced among the Rases,
and instead of following up their victory, they retired at once
into Abyssinia with their captives and plunder, in order to serve
the interests of their respective factions.
“On the 11th, in the afternoon, old Ras Areya, the King’s uncle,
a man nearly eighty years of age, who had played a wonderful part in
Abyssinian history, was left with a few followers to bring back the
King’s body for burial. The body had been cut in half so that it
could be carried more easily, and was put in a clothes-box so that it
could be laden on a mule. Only a few of the King’s devoted servants
remained behind, with a few priests and their armed servants. On
the 12th, while following the Taccazze road, the sad and mournful
procession was overtaken by a few Dervishes and some Arabs, who
had returned on the night of the 10th to reconnoitre Gallabat, and
when they found it abandoned they had followed one of the lines of
retreat to find out what was going on and the reason the Abyssinian
victory had not been followed up.”[107]
Ras Areya could have escaped, but died, with a few of his soldiers and
the bravest of the King’s servants, defending all that remained of
his liege. He “was last seen standing alongside the box containing
the King’s body, after having expended all his ammunition, with
his shield and sword in his hands.” He was speared by a Dervish
from behind. The Khalifa made no attempt to invade Abyssinia in
force after the battle of Gallabat.
Mr. Wylde received this information from a priest who was present
and who escaped, though he was badly wounded. I was told that the
King died in a small hut, attended by two monks and four nuns, who
tried to keep his death secret, and that an old woman, a servant of
the nuns, being captured later by the Dervishes, revealed, in order
to save her life, the line of retreat of the party that was bearing
away the King’s body.
The encounter took place at night, and such a scene in the moonlight
seems more like an imagined passage in an epic than an occurrence
in the closing years of the last century. I do not know whether the
nuns accompanied Ras Areya, nor what their fate was. The Dervishes
cut off the King’s head and carried it to the Khalifa at Omdurman.
There are numerous graves around Gallabat of those who fell in
the engagement. These are mounds, on which are laid agates brought
from the bed of the Atbara. The tombs of the Soudanese have upon
them a calabash, or more usually a pair, containing grain and
water—presumably to satisfy the needs of the dead man’s shade. I
do not know how the custom of solacing the deceased thus is reconciled
with the doctrine of Islam.