From Meroe to Khartoum.—Twenty-seventh Birth-day.—Desire to
Explore Central Africa.—Ascent of the White Nile.—Adventure
with the Savage Shillooks.—Visits the Natives.—Return to
Khartoum.—Crossing the Desert.—Parting with Friends.—Descent of
the Nile.—Arrival at Cairo.
The journey from Meroe to Khartoum on the Ethiopian Nile, Mr. Taylor
enjoyed very much, having little to do but amuse the sailors and be in
turn amused with stories of Mohammed, of Haroun-al-Raschid, and the
oriental wonders contained in songs and traditions. The climate gave him
health, his genial good-nature brought him friends, and his experience
would supply the necessities of life in after years. There were narrow
escapes from animals, men, and treacherous rapids; but he had become
accustomed to such things, and assumed enough of the Arab character to
exclaim with them, at each escape, “It is the will of Allah.” The day
before he arrived at Khartoum was Mr. Taylor’s twenty-seventh birthday.
Having letters to many of the officials of Khartoum, which was a military
and trading station at the junction of the Blue and the White Nile, he
received a cordial welcome, which made him feel at once that he was
among friends. He was then at the extreme outskirts of civilization.
All beyond was dark and unknown. Trading caravans consisting of Arabs
and natives often visited the interior, and small boats frequently went
farther up the Nile for purposes of traffic. But there was little known
about the people, the topography of the country, or of the course of the
Nile. There was a Catholic mission at Khartoum, where the missionaries
treated Mr. Taylor with great consideration and kindness. Some of them
had made exploring excursions into the wilds of Central Africa, and it
was his hope that he could get into some expedition with them during that
season. But in that he was disappointed. None of the missionaries were
intending to visit the tribes to the south that season, and no other
suitable opportunity presented itself. He did not give up the hope of
seeing the unexplored regions of the interior, until he had exhausted
every means in his power for procuring a fit escort. The unfortunate
combination of circumstances, which prevented him from searching for
the sources of the Nile, postponed the revelations which he would have
made, until they were unfolded by another newspaper correspondent, H. M.
Stanley.
So persistent was Mr. Taylor in his purpose to travel beyond the
boundaries of the known, that he resolved to go up the White Nile alone,
except a few servants. He had met Captain Peele, whose accounts of the
curiosities to be found farther inland made him the more anxious to get a
glimpse beyond. So he hired a boat, and amid the doubts of his servants
and the misgivings of his new-found friends, he set sail up the White
Nile. He could not hire the boatmen for a long voyage, as they feared
the fierce cannibals of the interior, and as they were going beyond the
protection of any military force. Trusting to his persuasive powers, he
started with them, deciding to go just as far as he could get them to
accompany him.
On a lone river, where no other sail was to be seen; in a wilderness,
where even the human beings were as the lions and hyenas; with no friend
of his own race near him, he sailed on, in confidence, never seeming
to think that he might die there alone and never be heard of by his
relatives again. Crocodiles, hippopotami, and giraffes flourished there,
and man was the plaything of both elements and beasts. Through the
wildest scenery, among the strangest birds and animals, he pursued his
course, trembling night and day lest his crew should at any moment refuse
to go farther.
At last they came to the country of the Shillooks. That wild tribe of
negroes was known to the boatmen through nursery tales and traditional
stories, wherein the savages were given very bad names; and when Mr.
Taylor informed them that he purposed to visit the village of those
horrid man-eaters, they regarded him with looks of the most profound
astonishment. But with a hardihood that by its boldness secured
acquiescence, he commanded them to row him to the banks of the Nile,
where the long rows of primitive huts were to be seen. Through captives
and merchants the kingdom of the Shillooks had become partially known,
and a kind of jargon, like the pigeon-English of the Chinese, served the
purposes of communication. One of Mr. Taylor’s company could talk with
them slightly, and with him as an interpreter, and another servant for a
protector, he walked boldly into the village of the savages, taking no
weapons, lest he should create suspicion. But they received him coldly
and with much show of suspicion and treachery. It was a most dangerous
experiment, and it is a matter of wonder that he was allowed to depart.
There were large numbers of armed men around him, brandishing spears and
clubs, and demanding of him all sorts of impossible presents. But with a
calmness and seeming confidence, Mr. Taylor smoked with the chief, and
exchanged presents with the subordinate officials, until they became
friendly and docile, laying down their weapons and conversing cheerfully
through the interpreter. Yet they laid a plan for plundering the party,
and would at the last perhaps have murdered the whole crew, had not Mr.
Taylor most adroitly and coolly foiled them in their designs.
All attempts to persuade his men to go farther were useless. No urging,
no promise of gifts, no threats would induce them to sail farther
south, as they believed that it was but a little way to “the end of the
world.” How eagerly he yearned for some chance to explore the country
beyond, he often mentioned in after life. He was at the centre of a
mighty continent. Locked and bolted it had been for all the ages, and
it appeared as if the door was now open and he had only to walk in to
discover its treasures. But alas! he could not go on alone. He could not
swim the length of the river, nor find his way among the elephants and
lions of the jungle. The boat turned back toward Khartoum, and he had no
choice but to return with it.
However, he made the most of the trip, and frequently visited the shore
and had some very pleasant and instructive interviews with the tribes
who live in that region. At one place he visited a village of the
Hassaniyehs, and contrary to the experience of many other travellers,
he was cordially invited to their circle and treated with sincere
hospitality. He mentioned in his book the dance of welcome which the
young women of the village performed before him, and described with
interesting detail their motions, features, forms, voices, and habits.
Thus, with visits to savages, interviews with wild beasts, and exquisite
views of the wildest scenery ever beheld by man, he floated back to the
friends and dwellings of Khartoum.
His stay in Khartoum, on his return, was brief, because of the
approaching sickly season; but every hour of his time, when awake, was
occupied in visiting and being visited. Native chiefs, Arab merchants,
holy men of the Moslem faith, Catholic priests, princesses, soldiers,
consuls, boatmen, and tame lions, seemed equally at home in his
presence; and his stay was a most delightful one for all concerned.
His parting with his friends at Khartoum was akin to the separation of
life-long friends, or the breaking of a family circle. To him the whole
world was kin.
[Illustration: SCENE IN NORTH AFRICA.]
From Khartoum he travelled in a caravan of camels, chartered by him
for an escort, leaving the Nile and striking into the desert. With
camel-drivers hard to control, with a burning sun overhead, and sands
nearly as hot beneath, he traversed the desert unharmed. Once he slept
with a deadly snake under his blanket, unconscious of his fearful danger
until he rolled up his blanket in the morning. The open air, the free
sun, sleeping on the sand, and eating the coarse food of the natives,
gave him a vigor and healthy delight which inconveniences and dangers
could not overcome. Sometimes the heat was so intense that the skin of
his face peeled off, and once or twice he felt the effects of “the desert
intoxication,” resulting from the monotonous scene and terrible heat. It
was a dizzy sensation, and is often thought to be a symptom of dangerous
disease. Changing camels at intermediate stations, and visiting the ruins
of ancient cities and fortresses, where he found them cropping out of the
sand or adorning some rugged mountain, he travelled on to Abdom, Dongola
and Wady-Halfa, where he embarked in a boat for Assouan. His parting
with his old dromedary, and with his guides, at Wady-Halfa, is mentioned
by him with the same regret that he experienced in leaving his other
friends. But his farewell, in Cairo, to his trusted servant Achmet, who
had been his faithful companion from Cairo up the Nile and back, drew
tears from the eyes of both.
His voyage from Wady-Halfa to Cairo was so nearly like his trip up the
Nile, that for the purposes of this work it is necessary only to say
that he visited many scenes and many ruins which were omitted on his
way up the river, and refreshed his memory by a second visit to the
most celebrated localities. He met many travellers, and heard from
civilization again, arriving in the capital of Egypt on the first day of
April, 1852, in excellent spirits and in good health, save a troublesome
soreness of the eyes, caused by the reflection of the sun on the water.
The thin and frail body had assumed a fullness and strength surprising to
note, and the broken heart had so accustomed itself to its load of grief
that the weight seemed lighter than at first.
On the Nile he wrote a poem containing among others, these expressive
lines:—
“Mysterious Flood,—that through the silent sands
Hast wandered, century on century,
Watering the length of green Egyptian lands,
Which were not, but for thee,—”
“Thou guardest temple and vast pyramid,
Where the gray Past records its ancient speech;
But in thine unrevealing breast lies hid
What they refuse to teach.”
“What were to thee the Osirian festivals?
Or Memnon’s music on the Theban plain?
The carnage, when Cambyses made thy halls
Ruddy with royal slain?”
“In thy solemnity, thine awful calm,
Thy grand indifference of Destiny,
My soul forgets its pain, and drinks the balm
Which thou dost proffer me.”
—_Taylor._