OUR DAILY ROUTINE -- BAKING A JERKED KOODOO -- LOSS OF AN
ELEPHANT -- A SEPARATION -- MY ILLNESS INCREASES -- STARVATION --
A GOD-SEND -- SAD PLIGHT -- FRESH SUPPLIES -- A HARD MARCH --
NARROW ESCAPE -- AN EXCITING HUNT -- PRIMITIVE BUTCHERY -- A
CURIOUS SHOT -- CARAVAN -- EXCHANGE OF CIVILITIES -- "CHURCH" --
CHANGE OF AIR -- ACCIDENT TO THE KITCHEN -- STRANGE VISITORS -- A
THUNDERSTORM.
_Feb. 21._--I have nothing of great importance to tell about this day.
I lost my pencil, that I used to write my diary with, and I was
obliged to use as a substitute the sad remains of the only quill pen
left me, and which I managed to render serviceable by tying it on to a
bit of stick. As I have so little to say, I will give you a sketch of
our day in camp. It begins mostly at sunrise. The first thing that
happens is that the donkeys and mules are untethered and led out to
grass. Our water-barrel is taken down to the stream or pool which we
are camped by, to be filled; it takes about three men to carry it up
again full. When the water is brought up the kettles are put on to
boil, and Mahomet, who is my servant, and Fisk, H.'s servant, get
ready our things for dressing. We get up and generally perform our
ablutions in the open air, with our little basin either propped upon
the stump of a tree or else on a heap of stones close to the tent. We
breakfast about eight, and then go out shooting--that is to say, I
used to do so when I was well. Fisk serves out the servants' rations
for the day about ten o'clock, and a very few minutes after this all
hands are hard at work making their bread, which is accomplished by
mixing flour and water and making the whole mass into a
plaster-of-Paris-like paste.
Most of our servants have divided themselves into messes of three or
four, and the way in which they bake their bread is both original and
primitive. Well-to-do travellers in Abyssinia, generally carry an iron
pan, exactly the shape of one of the copper scale pans that grocers
weigh tea in, but the poorer natives have to content themselves with a
flat stone, numbers of which are to be seen, propped up on other
stones, at all the camping-places on the road, with the ashes of
recent fires beneath them. While they are making their paste the stone
is being heated over a fire, and directly it is hot enough they pour
on to it the liquid dough and let it bake; when it is done on one side
they turn it over like a pancake. When sufficiently cooked it is a
hot doughy sort of flat cake; and those people who are lucky enough to
have a little red pepper eat it with the bread. There is nothing of
which an Abyssinian is so fond as red pepper, and the quantity he
manages to pass down his throat is something surprising. We had a good
deal of rice with us, and had found that by grinding the rice between
two smooth flat stones, which we got from the bed of the Tackazzee, it
made excellent flour; and we had hot rice cakes, baked in Brou's iron
pan, every morning for breakfast. After breakfast, if I did not go out
shooting, there was generally something to do in camp, either to mend
or put the men to work at making ropes, out of the fibre of a certain
tree, for lashing our things together, or else sending them to cut
grass for our "das," or leaf-house, which we live in during the day,
as these bowers are always much cooler when they are well thatched
with grass. Sometimes we have tiffin, and sometimes not. It is usually
hottest between one and three in the afternoon, and then it is always
best to be in camp. In the evening we generally went out shooting till
dark. The donkeys and mules, having been taken to water, are brought
in about five o'clock and tethered; they are left to stand till dark,
when the grass that has been cut is given them for the night. We dined
between seven and eight, and after dinner the flour was served out to
the servants for their evening meal. Any arrangements were now made
for the day following. H. and I sat by the camp fire, generally played
a tune upon my banjo, and then, after enjoying a smoke, we turned in
to rest.
* * * * *
After dinner is one of the pleasantest times in this beautiful
climate; the stars shine brightly, and from the place where we were
now encamped the constellations, both of the Great Bear and the
Southern Cross, could be seen. For the last week I had been so unwell
that I had not written up my journal. Symptoms of dysentery had
appeared, and I was afraid I should be laid up. During this week H.
had been out shooting, and he and Barrakee had the luck between them
to kill a large koodoo. Of course all hands in camp were delighted,
and a great portion of the meat was "jerked," that is to say, hung up
in the sun and dried. We found, at first, this jerked meat was very
hard to eat, but by grinding it between two stones, mixing it with a
little rice, fat, and onions, and then making it into a sort of
rissole and frying it, it did not make at all a bad meal.
One day during this week H. went out after elephants, and saw a very
large herd; he said there must have been about eighty of them, but
when the herd winded the hunters, they trumpeted and separated about
the country. Two of them were making down a little ravine, close to
where H., Barrakee, and the gun-bearer, were standing. H. told me that
Plowden Gubrihote, his gun-bearer, was in a dreadful "funk," and
assured him that these elephants were the man-killing elephants, well
known in this part of the world; that they would surely kill them if
they did not immediately take to their heels and run away. H. told him
to sit still, or else he would "lick" him. The elephants came nearer
and nearer, and one of Barrakee's men put up his gun to fire. This
would have been ridiculous, as they were nearly eighty yards off. H.
knocked the gun out of his hand, and told him to sit quiet. The
elephants were now fast approaching, when Barrakee and his man both
fired. This was exceedingly annoying, as from all accounts the
elephants would have passed by close to where the party were
concealed, and H. would have had a capital shot.
We stopped in the jungle here rather more than a week. I thought
perhaps another change of air would do me good, and we moved up to
Kourasa, where we had been camped before. I did not know at the time
that I was so ill, nor did H., or else I should not have made the
proposal I did when we got here. I told H. that our time was short in
the country, and it was of very little use his stopping with me; I
thought he had better move on with Barrakee, who assured us that, in
the country near his village on the frontier, we should find very good
shooting, even much better than we had had before. H. left me a few
servants behind, and four or five donkeys. We were getting short of
flour, and we agreed that he should go on to Barrakee's village, send
me back flour for the servants, and that I, on the day after he left,
would move up to Coom-Coom-Dema and stop there till the flour arrived.
Accordingly the next day he started away in the morning. Just as he
left, luckily I said to him, "I think you had better leave me five
dollars of our money, in case of accidents." This was literally all
the coin I had with me when I started to go to the coast.
I started the next day for Coom-Coom-Dema, and very nearly lost my
way; my gun-bearers did not seem to remember it, and it was only by
chance that I recollected some trees and a low hill which guided me
across the plain to where we had been encamped before. When I arrived
I felt very bad indeed, and I was really exceedingly ill. The flour
had run out, and I had to serve out some rice that evening to my
servants; for myself I had some biscuits to eat. I hoped by the
morning of the next day to receive flour from H., but it never came,
and the servants had no food nearly all that day, except some scraps
that they had managed to save. The next morning I had nothing to give
them, but they seemed to bear it all without complaint. I went out to
try and kill some of the little sand-grouse for myself, but I did not
succeed. When I came into camp Petros informed me the donkey-boy had
broken down; and when he had brought in the animals to tie them up for
the night, that he had begun to cry and had said, "Where's master? for
I want something to eat." I was at my wit's-end what to do, as it was
two long days' march to the nearest village, which was Azho, and I had
only just enough rice for one meal.
Things looked very bad; the evening closed in, and, just before it got
dark, Petros shouted out, "Oh, here is the flour!" It was not our own
flour, it was a leading party of a caravan which was going through to
Walkait. This was indeed a God-send! I saw there was no time to be
lost, so I called for my rifle, and the first donkey I saw that looked
as if it was loaded with flour I seized, led to the camp, unloaded it,
and poured out the flour on the tarpaulin sheet which generally formed
the floor of our tent. The owner of the donkey, as well as some of the
rest of the caravan, were, I believe, going to expostulate; but I told
one of my servants to tell them if they moved I would shoot them, and
that we were starving and we must have food. At that moment the chief
of the caravan--or rather the man who is generally appointed to lead
these people through the country, and arrange all payments to the
customs--appeared. He made everything all right, and we kept the
flour; and, as he rode away to the place where they were going to stop
that night, he sent me back, by one of my servants, some bread of his
own.
_Feb. 26._--I find in my journal this day that I was very ill, and
went out in the morning and shot two brace of little sand-grouse, as I
had not had fresh meat for some little time. I did not take any more
medicine, as I found it made me so weak. I caused the servants to make
me a large "das," long and narrow; in one end I used to sit most of
the day, and in the other my guns and what few provisions I had were
hung up. They watered the ground all round, and also the grass walls
of the "das," so that it made me pretty cool during the heat of the
day, whilst the darkness kept the flies out: certainly it was rather
miserable work feeling and being ill all alone in the jungle; indeed
long before this I ought to have started for home, as, when once
dysentery gets hold of you, nothing but complete change of air, good
food, and medicine, is likely to effect a cure. I still hung on to the
thought that I should get better, but, if I had known what was really
the matter, I should never have hesitated.
_Feb. 27._--Our own flour did not appear till the afternoon of to-day,
and I never felt more pleased than when I got it. They gave me a note
from H., which was written in pencil on an envelope, and ran as
follows:--
"Barrakee's Village, _Friday, 26th_, 1 P.M.
"Thank Heaven we have just this moment arrived! You never saw such a
journey: it was sixty, if not seventy, miles. We waited for two hours
in the heat of the day to rest the donkeys, and then went on as hard
as we could, and arrived at the river that Barrakee had spoken about
at 6 P.M. The rest of the donkeys came up about an hour after. We
stayed till the moon got up about 11 or 12 P.M. We had to leave the
donkeys behind; they will, I hope, be here some time to-night. I have
been marching ever since, and have just this moment arrived. The mules
are regularly done up: mine and Fisk's cannot move. I shall keep the
things _here_ till you _come up_. You will find it two good days'
march from Coom-Coom-Dema to this place. The river B. spoke about is a
beastly place; the water is bad, but you will be able to catch fish.
We caught some. Three of Barrakee's villagers are to take the flour. I
brought one of ours on, intending to send him back, but it is
impossible, for he is dead beat and has been walking for twenty-four
hours straight off; he could never walk back sixty miles, for I quite
think it is that from Coom-Coom-Dema. You will see when you come. They
will show you the way here. How is your complaint, old man? I do trust
it is all right now. I cannot move from here, for I know when the
baggage comes up the donkeys will be completely done. They are bound
to come on account of the food.
"_Friday, Feb. 26_, 1.30 P.M.
"They have just finished grinding and collecting the flour. Our coolie
is going after all. He is anxious to make a dollar. If they are not
with you before sunset to-morrow (Saturday), they forfeit a dollar.
The money is with their Shum.[13] There is enough for one hundred and
sixty bread" (rations), "also ten eggs. One of the bags that the flour
is in does not belong to us. We shall soon be all straight. Barrakee
is getting the rest of the flour."
Never was letter more acceptable, and especially as with it had come
the long-desired and looked-for flour. Although H. had not long been
away from me, in the short time I had experienced a feeling of
loneliness as well as utter helplessness; but it was no good giving
way to thoughts like these, as if my servants once saw any inclination
on my part to despond, I should never have been able to get anything
done, and they would have found out too soon that even the
much-dreaded white man is at times dependent upon help, even if it be
from a nigger. On the whole, I cannot complain of my servants, as they
had much to put up with. When one is ill, little annoyances are hard
to bear, and I dare say at times I was thought rather tyrannical; but
it is very little use regretting these things now, as there is not the
remotest chance of any of my natives reading what I have here written.
_Feb. 28._--This was an uneventful day, and I felt exceedingly weak
and ill. It had become very much cooler than it was in the two camps
nearer the Tackazzee, as the north wind blows towards the evening and
the mornings are quite cool.
_March 1._--I find written in my journal: "Am, I think, getting really
better. I have shot one and a half brace of little sand-grouse as they
flew near the tent in the morning. I went after the herd of hartebeest
that I had seen very often near the tent, on the plain at the head of
which I was encamped, but I could not get near them. I succeeded
to-day in very nearly poisoning myself by mistaking one medicine for
another, for I took opium in mistake for some other stuff. After I had
discovered my error I swallowed some brandy, went out for a walk, and
told my servants if they found me going to sleep to wake me up."
_March 2._--The opium seems to have done me good, as I find written
in the journal that "I am decidedly better, the symptoms of dysentery
having partly gone away." To-day I had great fun shooting a fine bull
hartebeest. This animal is about the size of an Alderney cow. I was
going out of my tent very early in the morning when I saw the herd
grazing not far off on the plain. I tried to stalk a bull which was
feeding behind the herd and on the nearest side to me, but I failed. I
then tried to stalk another, which was more on the left of the herd,
and which looked a very big gentleman, and, I think, an old friend of
mine, as I had fired at him before. As I was creeping along, the herd
had closed up and passed not far off on my right. The bull that I had
first tried to stalk was following. I missed him with both barrels of
my Express, and then I ran to the top of an ant-hill and took aim at
him with my heavy 12-bore rifle. It was a very long shot; the left
barrel broke his hind-leg just at the hock; and now the hunt began.
I had come out of my tent with only my slippers on, and in walking
through the burnt grass of the plain the short hard stubs were rather
trying to my feet with nothing but stockings on. The bull hartebeest
managed to go very nearly two miles; he stopped on several occasions
and let me come close up to him. I fired at him with my Express, and,
as I thought, missed him; he then limped away again, but went a good
deal faster than one would suppose was possible. It was getting very
hot, but I was determined the brute should not beat me. I lost sight
of him for a little time among some trees; when I got through them I
found he was trying to ascend a small hill. I had two more cartridges
of my heavy rifle, and these I fired at him, and as he was waddling up
the hill the shot broke the fetlock-joint of his other hind-leg. This
stopped him, and Goubasee and myself found him sitting up like a dog,
close to a white-ant hill. I had no knife with me and no cartridges,
and I did not know on earth what to do; so Goubasee got big stones and
handed them up the ant-hill to me, as I stood on the top and tried to
smash his head in by throwing them at him. He charged at me in a
clumsy way twice, when I was not on the ant-hill, and very nearly
caught me with his horns as I half tripped-up in stepping back. I
thought I would look in the cartridge-bag to see if I had completely
run out of ammunition: to my great joy I found one Express cartridge;
so I put the beast out of his misery with a shot behind the ear.
Guyndem, my other gunbearer, soon came up with knives. The carcase was
soon skinned and cut up, and I sent back for two donkeys to carry the
flesh into camp; it made two heavy loads for the donkeys, and the head
and skin taxed the strength of the donkey-driver as he carried it
home. I found that the animal had been hit by three bullets; one of
these was a very curious shot: when I had fired at him with the
Express, and thought it was a miss, the bullet had entered and exactly
divided the hartebeest's tail as he was galloping straight away from
me. This shot must have entered his entrails and stopped him
considerably; the two other bullets were the shots that broke the hock
of one of his hind-legs and the fetlock-joint of the other. There was
great rejoicing amongst the servants and donkey-drivers, who had
abundance to eat; and three long strings of jerked meat might be seen
festooning the trees near camp. They dried the meat on the leather
thongs with which the baggage was tied on the donkeys; these thongs
were stretched from tree to tree.
I returned to camp completely done up; and I do not think the chase
after the deer, under the hot sun, did me very much good; but still a
little sport, when you have been ill for some time, cheers you very
much. I had been trying to make little snares to catch small birds
with, and especially the doves, that came down in great quantities to
drink at the water-pools. It was rather amusing to watch them on these
occasions, but they were far too wary to be caught by such clumsy
contrivances.
_March 3._--Went out this morning to look for some gazelles, of which
there are generally two or three in a little patch of very high grass
that escaped the fire at the time the rest of the dry grass was burnt.
I saw a buck gazelle and fired both barrels of the Express, and
missed. I then went and stood on an ant-hill in the middle of the
patch of high grass; two does got up close under my feet and rushed
away. I fired both barrels, and missed. The gazelle is by no means an
easy thing to hit with a rifle when it is going fast, as it is very
small. I was rather disgusted with this bad shooting, and was walking
back to camp when up rose another buck. I fired one barrel, and
missed; this shot seemed to turn him, and he went away parallel to the
direction I was going in, offering a shoulder shot. I rolled him over
with my left barrel as he was cantering along; he gave two or three
convulsive bounds, and, when I got up to him, he was quite dead; there
is nothing like an Express bullet for deadliness. Goubasee made a bag
of the skin, and I kept the head.
When I got back to camp I found that H. had sent me some more
provisions, and I also got a letter from him, written on an
envelope:--
"Barrakee's Village, _Sunday, February 28th_.
"The coolies have just come back. I am very glad you got the flour
from the caravan--that was first-rate; but I am sorry you are not
coming on yet. As for this village, it is a horrid place, and there is
nothing to shoot within miles of it. It is up on a hill, but is on the
way to the Mareb; and so to-morrow I am going to start with Fisk,
Barrakee, Brou, and three or four coolies. I shall leave some behind
for you, and they will bring you on; Barrakee is going to leave a man
to show you the way. I hope I shall have better luck than on the
Tackazzee. As for flour, I cannot send you as much as I would, but
still send a good lot. We have hardly any empty bags. We sent you
three the other day; but when you get here have them filled up, and
come down. I send a bundle of letters down, addressed to the consul at
Suez--will you see that one coolie, if not two, takes them down to
Massowah, to catch the steamer on the 24th of March, as it only takes
nine days at the outside to get from Coom-Coom-Dema to Massowah. Do
send them for me to Arrekel Bey, and ask him to post them. I send them
to you, as I know you will have some letters to send too. I have no
ink or paper left. This is the last--and I am writing to you now with
gunpowder and milk, which does capitally. I am fearfully sorry about
you, and should come back if I thought I could do any good; but I know
I really could not. But I trust, old fellow, you will be all right by
the time you receive this. I shall not send the flour off from here
till daylight on Tuesday morning, or if I can I will arrange for it to
leave on Monday (to-morrow) evening. They are working hard now,
grinding a dollar's worth for us to take; and I am sending you some
honey, one bottle of brandy, potatoes, onions, and some eggs. One
donkey takes the flour and two of our coolies.
"_Monday morning, March 1st._
"Your flour will leave this afternoon. Cassa here, in charge of the
baggage left behind. Shall be back to-day fortnight; but they will
show you the way down when they come.
"Ever yours,
"H."
I must explain to my readers that the Mareb which H. talks of in this
letter is the same river that we were on before, he being many miles
lower down its course, in fact, much nearer the plains than where we
had been.
* * * * *
A large caravan with cotton from Walkait came by to-day. The chief of
the caravan came up to me as I was seated outside my "das" loading
some cartridges, and paid his respects, commencing by making two very
low bows--nearly touching the ground with his head. I gave him some
powder which he begged for, and asked him if he would give me a
_machet_, which is a Tigré word for a little sickle, which the natives
use to cut grass for their beasts; and my servants were always
complaining that they had not one, and so they could not manage to cut
grass well for the donkeys. He was exceedingly civil and good-natured,
and took one of my coolies on with him some little way on the road, to
the place where they were going to camp, and sent him back with the
machet. The chief told me they had seen elephants as they had come up
from the Tackazzee, and also three or four of the Baria tribe. His
people, very bravely--as they were ten to one--offered to fight the
Baria; but these niggers were wise in their generation, and took to
their heels on seeing so large a party. The tail of the caravan did
not come up till nearly dark, and so camped for the night about 150
yards from my tent. Just after sunset, when I was going to eat my
dinner, they began a low-toned chant in which they all joined; it was
rather pretty and mournful. I asked Hadji Mahomet, who was a
Mahomedan, what it meant; he said it was "church;" at least that was
the interpretation that Petros, my bearer, put upon his answer. All
these men who were singing were Abyssinian Copts. I was much better in
health this day.
_March 4._--Instead of staying quietly at Coom-Coom-Dema I thought
that a change of air to the other side of the plain would do me good.
I had seen a spring of water on my way here, and so in the morning I
sent out one of my servants to look for it. He came back and said he
had found it; and so, in the evening, just before sunset, I started
for my new camp. The servants were very annoying and they would do
nothing they were told. I fired much of the dry grass of the plain, in
hopes of burning the rest of it bare in order that I might see more
game, and I had a long shot at a "tora," or hartebeest, on my way
across. When we got rather near the water where I was to camp we
happened to lose our way, and we were wandering about for some time.
Ali the cook possessed a mule, on which the tin-pots and kettle were
strapped; the animal got frightened at the rattling of the things on
its back, and galloped away kicking and plunging, sending the utensils
flying in different directions, including my two plates and a large
boiling-pot that I used to make soup in, and also Ali's bedding; this,
I am sure, he regretted a good deal more than any of my things. He had
bought this wretched mule for 12 dollars at Adiaboo. This trip across
made me very ill, as all my arrangements went wrong, and I did not get
comfortably to bed until rather late.
Before I left Coom-Coom-Dema three wild-looking men came into camp:
they said they had come down into the jungle to look for wild honey.
They had a small gourd filled with this stuff, for which they wanted a
dollar, and they were evidently very poor. They gave me as a present
two large pear-shaped fruit with a green velvety shell; the inside was
filled with seeds, covered with a sort of white spongy pulp, which was
deliciously acid. The servants called this fruit Habbaboo. I find
Mansfield Parkyns says that this fruit is called Dema, the scientific
name being _Adansonia digitata_. I gave these honey-hunters two hanks
of beads, with which they seemed very well pleased.
_March 5._--I was not nearly so well this morning, having drunk some
brandy and water the night before. The rice-water which I had been
drinking during my illness had been made at Coom-Coom-Dema before I
started, but it was in one of the tin-pots that galloped off on the
back of Ali's mule. The servants again put me up a capital "das," and
it was very dark and cool. The cook's mule was found to-day, but minus
the stock-pot and some plates. I informed him I would shoot the brute
if he did not go out and find the plates, etc., and wonderful to
relate, they appeared in the evening all right, but rather battered.
The mule had gone back to Coom-Coom-Dema, and was found close to where
we had before camped, cropping the grass by the side of the water. I
went out in the evening and shot one of the little sand-grouse for
dinner as it came down to drink. I felt very poorly, and almost too
weak to walk about.
_March 6._--Worse to-day. This horrid complaint sticks to me, symptoms
of dysentery having returned. I am afraid I must make up my mind to
start for home--a bad ending to a sporting expedition. I shall have
been ill now three weeks to-morrow. I took some chlorodyne last night,
and I think it only made me worse.
_March 7._--I am much better this morning, having taken three doses of
opium, which acted instantaneously, thank goodness! There was a
thunder-storm last night with two very heavy showers, and the most
beautiful sunset I ever saw; great masses of clouds coming up from the
south-east, and vivid lightning, and the thunder rolling and echoing
through the mountains; it was a very grand sight. I was kept awake
part of last night by the howling of a hyena, about ten yards from the
tent. I thought at first it was a lion, but the servants assured me it
was a _gib_, which is their word for hyena. He stopped about a quarter
of an hour, making a hideous noise, and at last retired. There was a
new moon to-day, so I was in hopes there might be a change in the
weather, which would have done me much good: it was a great deal
cooler this morning, after the thunder-storm. I made Goubasee
administer a slight castigation to Ali, the cook, who had neglected to
boil my rice-water the night before, and, as it was the only thing I
had to drink, this was very disagreeable, as it was brought to me for
my breakfast almost boiling hot and excessively nasty. It is needless
to say this mistake never occurred again. This was not his first
offence, and Ali, who was a Cairo man, was rather inclined at times to
be sulky, and not to do anything; but on the whole he was not a bad
servant.
FOOTNOTES:
[13] _Shum_ is Amharic for a chief of several villages.