From Massowah to Kassala--The Start--The Habab--Adventures
of M. Marcopoli--The Beni Amer--Arrival at Kassala--The
Nubian Mutiny--Attempt of De Bisson to found a Colony in
the Soudan.
On the afternoon of the 15th October, all our preparations being
apparently complete, the mission, composed of Mr. H. Rassam, Lieut.
W.F. Prideaux, of her Majesty's Bombay Staff Corps, and myself,
started on its dangerous enterprise. We were accompanied by a nephew
of the Naib of Arkiko; and an escort of Turkish Irregulars had been
graciously sent by the Pasha to protect our sixty camels, laden
with our personal luggage, stores, and presents for the Ethiopian
monarch. We also took with us several Portuguese and other Indian
servants, and a few natives of Massowah as muleteers.
On a first march something is always found wanting. On this occasion
many of the cameleers were unprovided with ropes: boxes, portmanteau-bags,
were strewed all over the road, and night was far advanced before
the last camel reached Moncullou. A halt was in consequence absolutely
necessary, so that the actual start was only made on the afternoon
of the 16th.
From Moncullou our route lay N.W. across the desert of Chab, a
dreary wilderness of sand, intersected by two winter torrents,
generally dry: but by digging in their sandy beds it is possible
at all seasons to obtain some muddy water. The rapidity with which
these torrents fill up is most astonishing.
During the summer of 1865, we had made a trip to Af-Abed, in the
Hababs' country. On our return, whilst crossing the desert, we
experienced a very severe storm. We had just reached our encamping-ground
on the Southern bank of one of these water-courses, and half the
camels had already crossed the dry bed of the river, when, on a
sudden, a tremendous roar was heard, shortly afterwards followed
by a fearful rush of water. In the former empty bed of the torrent
now dashed a mighty stream, tearing down trees and rocks, so that
no human being could possibly cross. Our luggage and servants were
still on the opposite bank, and although we were only a stone's
throw from the party so suddenly cut off from us, we had to spend
the night on the bare ground, with no other covering than our
clothing.
In the very centre of the desert of Chab, arises, Amba Goneb, a
conical basaltic rock several hundred feet high, an advanced sentry
detached from the now approaching mountains. On the evening of the
18th, we reached Ain, and from the glaring and dreary desert passed
into a lovely valley, watered by a small winding stream, cool and
limpid, shaded by mimosas and tamarinds, and glowing with the
freshness and luxuriance of topical vegetation. [Footnote: The
distance from Massowah to Ain is about forty-five miles.]
We were fortunate enough to leave the cholera behind us. Apart from
a few cases of diarrhoea, easily checked, the whole party was in
excellent health; every one in high spirits at the prospect of
visiting almost unknown regions, and above all at having at last
bid adieu to Massowah, where we had spent in anxious expectation
long and dreary months.
From Ain to Mahaber [Footnote: From Ain to Mahaber (direction E.
by N.) about twenty miles.] the road is most picturesque; always
following the winding of the small river Ain, here and there
compressed to only a few yards by perpendicular walls of trachyte,
or basalt; further on expanding into miniature green plateaus,
bordered by conical hills, covered to the very summit by mimosas
and huge cactuses, alive with large hordes of antelopes (the agazin),
which, bounding from rock to rock, scared by their frolics the
countless host of huge baboons. The valley itself, graced by the
presence of gaudy-feathered and sweet-singing birds, echoed to the
shrill cry of the numerous guinea-fowls, so tame, that the repeated
reports of our fire-arms did not disturb them in the least.
At Mahaber we were obliged to remain several days awaiting fresh
camels. The Hababs, who had now to supply us, frightened by the
presence of the hairy nephew of the Nab and the Bashi-hazouks, made
themselves scarce, and it was only after much parley and the repeated
assurance that every one would be paid, that the camels at last
made their appearance. The Hababs are a large pastoral tribe,
inhabiting the Ad Temariam, a hilly and well-watered district, about
fifty miles north-west of Massowah, included between longitude 38.39
and latitude 16 to 16.30. They represent the finest type of the
roving Bedouins; of middle height, muscular, well made, they claim
an Abyssinian origin. With the exception of a darker hue of the
skin, certainly in other respects they do not differ from the
inhabitants of the table-land, and have but few characteristics of
the aboriginal African races. Some fifty years ago they were a
Christian tribe--nominally, at least--but were converted to
Mohammedanism by an old Sheik, still alive, who resides near
Moncullou, and is an object of great veneration all over the Samhar.
Once their doubts removed, their suspicions lulled, the Hababs
proved themselves friendly, willing, and obliging.
Gratitude is no common virtue in Africa, at least as far as my own
experience goes. Its rarity brings back to my memory a fact that I
will here record. On our previous trip to the Ad Temariam, I had
seen several patients, amongst them a young man, suffering from
remittent fever, and I gave him some medicine. Hearing of our
arrival at Mahaber, he came to thank me, bringing as an offering a
small skin of milk. He apologized for the absence of his aged
father, who also, he said, wished to kiss my feet, but the distance
(about eight miles) was too much for the old man's strength.
I may as well mention here that a young commercial traveller, Mr.
Marcopoli, had accompanied us from Massowah. He was going to Metemma,
_viâ_ Kassala, to be present at the annual fairs held at that
place in winter. He took advantage of our short stay at Mahaber,
to proceed to Keren, in the Bogos, where he was called by business,
intending to join again our party a few stages ahead. We looked
at our map, and estimated the distance from our halting-place to
the Bogos at the utmost eighteen miles. As he was provided with
excellent mules, in four or five hours he naturally expected to
reach his destination. He accordingly started at daybreak, and
never halted once; but night was far advanced before he perceived
the lights of the first village on the Bogos plateau: so much for
travellers' maps. The poor man's anxiety had been great. Soon after
dark he perceived--or, as I suspect, imagination worked to a high
pitch of excitement through fear, conjured to his fancy the phantom
of some huge animal--a lion, a tiger, he did not know very exactly;
but, at all events, he saw some horrid beast of prey, glaring at
him through the brushwood, with fiery and bloodshot eyes, watching
all his movements for a suitable opportunity to fall upon his
helpless prey. However, he reached Keren in safety.
He found that we were expected by the Bogos people, who believed
that we were proceeding by the upper route. Flowers were to be
strewed in our path, and our entrance was to be welcomed by dances
and songs in our praise; the officer in command of the troops was
to receive us with military honours, the civil governor intended
to entertain us on a large scale: in a word, a grand reception was
to be offered to the English friends of the mighty Theodore. The
disappointment was no doubt great when Mr. Marcopoli informed the
Bogosites that our route lay in an opposite direction to their fair
province. On that the military commander decided on accompanying
Mr. Marcopoli back, and paying us his respects at our halting-place.
Marcopoli was delighted; he had a too vivid recollection of _his
lion_ not to be overjoyed at the idea of having companions with
him.
Late in the evening they started, the Abyssinian officer and his
men having before marching indulged in deep draughts of tej to keep
out the cold. On their way down, the "warriors" cantered about in
the most frantic manner; now riding at a full gallop up to poor
Marcopoli, the lance in rest, and dexterously wheeling round when
the weapon almost touched his breast; then charging upon him at
full speed and firing off their loaded pistols quite close, and
only a few feet above his head. Marcopoli felt very uncomfortable
in the society of his bellicose and drunken escort, but not knowing
their language, he had nothing to do but to appear pleased.
Early in the morning, at our second stage from Mahaber, these
specimens of Abyssinian soldiers made their appearance, and a batch
of more villanous-looking scoundrels I have never seen during my
stay in Abyssinia: evidently Theodore was not very particular as
to whom he selected for such distant outposts, unless he considered
the roughest and most disorderly the fittest for such duties. They
presented us with a cow they had stolen on the road, and begged us
not to forget to mention to their master that they had come all the
distance from Bogos to pay their respects to his guests. After
having refreshed themselves with a few glasses of brandy and partaken
of a slight collation, they kissed the ground in acknowledgment of
the pleasant things they had received in return for their gift, and
departed--to our great satisfaction.
On that 23rd we started from Mahaber, going due west, and following
for eight miles longer the charming valley of Ain. Afterwards, we
diverged to the left, going in a south-west direction, until we
reached the province of Barka; when again our route lay west by
north, until we came to Zaga. From this point to Kassala the general
direction is west by south. [Footnote: The distance from Mahaber
to Adart on the frontier of Barka is about fifty miles; from Adart
to Kassala about 130 miles.] From Mahaber to Adart the road is very
pleasant; for several days we continually ascended, and the more
we advanced into the mountainous region the more agreeable and
pleasant did we feel it, and we enjoyed the sight of splendid and
luxuriant vegetation.
On the 25th we crossed the Anseba, a large river flowing from the
high lands of Bogos, Hamasien, and Mensa, and joining the river
Barka at Tjab. [Footnote: Tjab, lat. 17 10', long. 37 15'.]
We spent a pleasant day in the beautiful Anseba valley, but aware
of the danger of remaining after sunset near its flowery but malarious
banks, we pitched our tent on a rising ground at some distance, and
the next morning proceeded to Haboob, the highest point we had to
gain before descending into the Barka through the difficult pass
of Lookum. After this abrupt descent of more than 2,000 feet, the
roads generally slope towards the low land of Barka.
From Ain to Haboob [Footnote: The Anseba, at the point we crossed,
is about 4,000 feet above the level of the sea; Haboob about 4,500.]
the country is well wooded, and watered by innumerable small streams.
The soil is formed of the detritus of the volcanic rocks, specially
of feldspar; pumice abounds in the ravines. The channels of the
rivulets are the only roads for the traveller. This mountain chain
is, on the whole, a pleasant spot, more delightful for the reason
that it rises between the arid shores of the Red Sea and the flat,
hot, and level plains of the Soudan. The province of Barka is a
boundless prairie, about 2,500 feet above the level of the sea,
covered at the time of our journey with half-dried grass some five
or six feet high, and dotted here and there with small woods of
stunted mimosas.
From Barka to Metemma we find alluvium as the general formation.
Water is scarce; even a month after the rainy season all the rivers
are dried up, and water is only obtained by digging in the sand of
the dry beds of the river Barka and its tributaries. When we passed
through these plains many spots were still green; but a few months
later we should have crossed a parched-up prairie little better
than the desert itself.
Our pretty songsters of Ain were no more to be seen. The guinea-fowl
was seldom met with, and only a few tiny antelopes wandered over
the solitary expanse. Instead, we were aroused by the roar of the
lion, the laugh of the hyena, and we had to protect our sheep and
goats, as the spotted leopard was lurking around our tents.
On the 31st of October we reached Zaga, a large sloping plain
situated at the junction of the Barka and the Mogareib. Water can
be obtained at that spot by digging wells in the dried-up beds of
the rivers, in sufficient quantity to have induced the Beni Amer
to make it their winter encamping-ground.
We had that day made a very long march, on account of the absence
of water on the road. Starting at two P.M., we only reached our
halting ground (the bed of a dried-up winter torrent, a few hundred
yards below the Beni Amer's camp), a couple of hours before daybreak.
We were so sleepy and tired that during the latter part of the stage
it had been with great difficulty that we managed to keep in the
saddle; and no sooner did our guide give us the grateful intelligence
that we had arrived, than we stretched on the ground the piece of
tanned cowhide we carried with us, and covering ourselves with our
cloaks, lay down to rest until daybreak. I offered to Mr. Marcopoli
to share my "bedding," as his own had not arrived, and in a few
minutes we both fell into that deep slumber that follows the
exhaustion of a long weary march. I remember my disgust at being
violently shaken by my bed companion; who, in a faint and trembling
voice, whispered into my ear: "Look there!" I understood at once
his look of anguish and terror, for two splendid lions, not more
than twenty paces from us, were drinking near the wells that had
been sank by the Arabs. I thought, and told my companion, that as
we had no fire-arms with us; the wisest plan was to go to sleep and
remain as quiet as possible. I set him the example, and only woke
up late in the morning, when the sun was already high up and pouring
its burning rays over my uncovered head. Marcopoli, with an absent
terrified look impressed on his countenance, was still sitting near
me. He told me that he had not slept, but kept watching the lions:
they had remained for a long time, drinking, roaring and beating
their sides with their tails; and even when they departed he kept
listening to their dreadful roar, sounding more distant as the first
rays of day appeared.
We had, no doubt, had a narrow escape, as that night a lion had
carried away a man and a child who had strayed from the Arab
encampment. The Sheik of the Beni Amer, during the few days we
remained at Zaga, with true Arab hospitality, always placed at
night a strong guard around our tent, to watch the large fires that
they kindle in order to keep at a respectful distance these unwelcome
night rovers.
We had agreed with the Hababs that we would exchange camels at this
spot, but none could be obtained for love or money. It was lucky
for us that the Bedouins had by this time found out that all white
men are not Turks, otherwise we should have been cast helpless in
the very centre of Barka. The Beni Amers could never be induced
even to acknowledge that they had camels, though more than 10,000
were grazing under our very eyes.
The Beni Amers are Arabs, speak the Arab language, and have preserved
up to the present day all the characteristics of their race. A
roving Bedouin of the Yemen and a Beni Amer are so much alike that
it seems hardly credible that the Beni Amers possess no record of
their advent on the African coast, or of the causes that induced
them to leave the land of their ancestors. Their long, black, silky
hair has not acquired the woolly texture of that of the sons of
Ham, and the small extremities, the well-knit limbs, the straight
nose and small lips, the dark bronzed complexion, distinguish them
alike from the Shankallas and the Barias, and from the mixed races
of the plateaus. They wear a piece of cloth a few yards in length,
folded round the body, with an elegance peculiar to the savage.
Even with this dirty rag, they must be admired, like the Italian
beggar, not only for their beautiful forms, but also for the look
of impudence and roguery displayed in the bright glare of their
dark eyes. The Beni Amers retain to a high degree that nuisance so
well described by a distinguished traveller in the East, and, like
their brethren of the Arabian shore, they are _une race bavarde
et criarde_. They pay a nominal tribute to the Egyptian Government,
and the reason we could not obtain camels was that, troops being
moved about, they feared that on their arrival at Kassala they would
be pressed into the Government service, and not only receive no
pay, but most likely in the end lose the greater number of their
camels. This tribe roams along the banks of the Barka and its many
tributaries. Zaga is only their winter station; at other times they
wander over the immense plains north of Barka in search of pasture
and water for their innumerable flocks. All over the district of
Zaga camps appeared in every direction; the herds of cattle,
especially camels, seemed without number: this all indicates that
they form a wealthy, powerful tribe.
We encamped near their head-quarters, where resides the Sheik of
all the Beni Amers, Ahmed, surrounded by his wives, children, and
people. He is a man of middle age, conspicuous among his cunning
followers by a shrewd and crafty look. He was friendly to us, and
presented us with a few sheep and cows. His camp covered several
acres of ground, the whole enclosed by a strong fence; the wigwams
are built in a circle a few feet from the hedge; the open space in
the centre being reserved for the cattle, always driven in at night.
The chief's small circular wood and grass huts contrasted favourably
with the dwellings of his followers. The latter, constructed in a
circle, are formed by thrusting into the ground the extremities of
small branches; a few pieces of coarse matting thrown over them
complete the structure. They cannot be more than four feet high,
and their average circumference is twelve feet; nevertheless, some
eight or ten unwashed faces were seen peeping through the small
door, staring with their black, frightened eyes at the strange white
men. Small-pox was raging at the time with great virulence; fever
also was daily claiming many victims. I gave medicine to several
of the sufferers, and good hygienic advice to Sheik Ahmed. He
listened with all becoming respect to the good things that fell
from the Hakeem's lips: he would see; but they had never done so
before, and with Mussulman bigotry and superstition he put an end
to the conversation by an "Allah Kareem." [Footnote: "God is merciful"]
On the 3rd of November we were again on the march. On the 5th we
arrived al Sabderat, the first permanent village we had met with
since leaving Moncullou. This village--in appearance similar to
those of the Samhar--is built on the side of a large granitic
mountain, cleft in two from the summit to the base. Numerous wells
are dug in the dried-up bed of the water-course that separates the
village. The inhabitants of this divided village often contend
between themselves for the possession of the precious fluid; and
when the rushing waters have disappeared, human passions too often
fill with strife and warfare the otherwise quiet bed of the stream.
On the morning of November 6 we entered Kassala. The Nab's nephew
had preceded us, to inform the governor of our arrival, and present
him with a letter recommending us to the care of the authorities,
written by the Pasha of Egypt. To honour us according to his masters
firman, the governor sent all the garrison to meet us a few miles
from the town, with a polite apology for his absence, due to sickness.
The senior partner of the Greek firm of Paniotti also came to welcome
us, and afforded us the hospitality of his house and board.
Kassala, the capital of Takka, a walled town near the River Gash,
containing about 10,000 inhabitants, is on the model of most modern
Egyptian towns, public as well as private buildings being alike of
mud. The arsenal, barracks, &c. are the only structures of any
importance. Beautiful gardens have been made at a short distance
from the town, near the Biver Gash, by the European portion of the
community. Just before, and immediately after the rains, the place
is very unhealthy. During those months malarious fever and dysentery
prevail to a great extent.
Kassala, formerly a prosperous city, the centre of all the trade
of the immense tract of country included from Massowah and Suakin
to the Nile, and from Nubia to Abyssinia, was, at the date of our
arrival, almost deserted, covered with ruins and rank vegetation,
destitute of the most common necessaries of life, the spectre of
its former self, haunted by its few remaining ghost-like and
plague-stricken citizens. Kassala had just gone through the ordeal
of a mutiny of Nubian troops. Pernicious fevers, malignant dysenteries
and cholera had decimated both rebels and loyalists; war and sickness
had marched hand in hand to make of this fair oasis of the Soudan
a wilderness painful to contemplate. The mutiny broke out in July.
The Nubian troops had not been paid for two years, and when they
claimed a portion of their arrears, they only met with a stern
refusal. Under these circumstances, it is not astonishing that they
became ready listeners to the treasonable words and extravagant
promises made to them by one of their petty chiefs, named Denda, a
descendant of the former Nubian kings. They matured their plot in
great secresy, and every one was horrified one morning to learn
that the black troops had broken out in open mutiny and murdered
their officers, and, no longer restrained, had followed their natural
inclinations to revel in carnage and plunder. A few Egyptian regulars
had, luckily, possession of the arsenal, and held it against these
infuriated savages until troops could arrive from Kedaref and
Khartoum. The Europeans and Egyptians gallantly defended their part
of the town. They erected walls and small earthworks between
themselves and the mutineers, and continually on the alert, though
few in number, they repulsed with great gallantry the assault of
the fiends thirsting for their lives and property. Egyptian troops
poured in from all directions and relieved the besieged city. More
than a thousand of the mutineers were killed near the gates of the
town; nearly a thousand more were tried and executed; and those who
attempted to escape the vengeance of the merciless pasha and fled
for safety to the wilderness, were hunted down like beasts by the
roving Bedouins. Though order was now restored, it was no easy
matter to obtain camels. It required all the power and persuasion
of the authorities to induce the Shukrie-Arabs to enter the town
and convey us to Kedaref.
We heard at Kassala the miserable end of Le Comte de Bisson's mad
enterprise. It appears that the Comte, formerly an officer in the
Neapolitan army, had married at an advanced age a beautiful,
accomplished and rich heiress, the daughter of some contractor; it
was "a mariage de convenance," a title bought by wealth and beauty.
In the autumn of 1864, De Bisson reached Kassala accompanied by
some fifty adventurers, the scum of the outcasts of all nations,
who had enrolled themselves under the standard of the ambitions
Comte, "on the promised assurance that power and wealth would be,
before long, their envied portion." De Bisson's idea seems to have
been to personify a second Moses: he came not only to colonize, but
also to convert. The wild roving Bedouin of the Barka plains would,
he believed, not only at once and with gratitude acknowledge his
rule, but would soon, abandoning his false creed, fall prostrate
before the altar he intended to erect in the wilderness. About a
hundred town Arabs were induced to join the European party,--a
useless set of vagabonds, who adorned themselves with the regimental
uniform, accepted the rifle, pistol, and sword, drew their rations,
were punctual in their attendance and always ready to salaam, but
showed much dislike to the drill and other civilized notions the
Comte and his officers endeavoured to impress upon them.
Their departure from Kassala for the land of milk and honey was
quite theatrical; in front rode on a camel, a gallant captain (who
had taken his discharge from the Austrian service,) playing on the
bugle a parting "fanfare;" behind him, the second in command, mounted
on a prancing charger, and followed by the European part of the
force, who with military step, and shoulder to shoulder, marched
as men for whom victory is their slave. Behind came Le Comte himself,
clad in a general's uniform, his breast covered with the many
decorations which sovereigns had only been too proud to confer on
such a noble spirit; next to him rode gracefully his beautiful wife,
looking handsomer still in the picturesque kepi and red uniform of
a French zouave; behind, closing the march, the well-knit Arabs,
with plunder written in their dark bright eyes, marched with a quick
elastic step and as much regularity as could be expected from men
who abhorred order and had been drilled for so short a time. Need
I say that the expedition failed utterly? The Arabs of the plains
declined to accept another pontiff and king in the person of the
gallant and noble Comte. They were even vicious enough to induce
those of their brethren who had accepted service, to return to their
former occupations, and _forget to leave_ behind them on their
departure the arms, clothes, etc., which had been dealt out to them
on their entering the Comte's service.
The return to Kassala was humble: there was no trumpet this time;
the brilliant uniforms had given way to soiled and patched raiments:
even the general adopted a civilian's dress; the lady alone was
still smiling, laughing, beautiful as ever; but no Arab in gaudy
attire closed the hungry-looking and worn out cortege. De Bisson
had failed: but why?--Because the Egyptian Government had not only
afforded none of the assistance that had been promised to him, but
all at once stopped the supplies he considered himself entitled to
expect. A claim of I do not know how many millions was at once made
on the Egyptian Government. A commissioner was sent out, who it
appears took a very different view of the question, as he declared
the "Comte's" pretensions absurd and unreasonable. The Comte soon
afterwards, with his wife, returned to Nice, leaving at Kassala the
remnant of his European army; the few who had not succumbed to fever
or other malarious diseases.
At the time of the mutiny of the Nubian troops, a few not in hospital
or on their way to Khartoum or Massowah, fought well; two even paid
with their lives their gallant attempt at a sortie, and they had
gained for themselves, by their bravery in those difficult times,
the respect they had lost during the long days of inaction.
De Bisson was instrumental in spreading the most fallacious reports
as to the condition of the captives held by Theodore, and even when
an army was already marching to their rescue, "correct" accounts
appeared of the repulse of the British by Theodore; at another time
a mendacious report was spread that a great battle had been fought
in Tigré between Theodore and a powerful rebel--a battle which was
said to have lasted three days without any marked success having
been gained by either side; and that Theodore, having perceived in
the enemy's camp some Europeans, had sent orders for our immediate
execution; the fulfilment of the sentence resting with the Empress,
who was residing at Gondar, and that his (De Bisson's) agent was
using his influence to stay the execution. Absurd and ridiculous
as were these reports, they were not the less productive of great
distress to the families and friends of the captives.
During the five days we spent at Kassala, I am happy to say that I
was able to relieve many sufferers; amongst them our host himself,
and one of his guests, a young, well-educated Egyptian officer,
laid at death's door by a severe attack of dysentery.
A Nubian colonel called on us one morning; he strongly advised us
to stop before it was too late. He had heard much about Theodore's
doings, and assured us that we would meet but with deceit and
treachery at his hands. On our telling him that we were officers
and bound to obey, he said, nothing more, but bid us good-by in a
sorrowful voice.