JOURNEY TO THE EASTERN SHORES OF THE LAKE TCHAD.
March 7, 1824.—The courier which I had sent to Kano, with a supply
of necessaries for my countrymen, on Mr. Toole’s arrival, returned
to Kouka, bringing a confirmation of the report which had before
reached me, of the death of Dr. Oudney, at a place called Murmur,
near Katagum, on the 12th of January.
I had left the sheikh in full march to drive back the Begharmis,
and he now took up a position near Angala, within five miles of the
enemy, who had commenced plundering in their rear, and were moving off
all they could gather to the south side of the river: their force,
also, it was said, increased daily, and the alarm of the people,
both here and at Angornou, lest the enemy should be victorious, was
excessive. We were able to muster about seven guns, and three pair
of pistols—had plenty of powder and ball; and as our huts were
inclosed within a wall, we had determined on defending ourselves to
the last. Our determination was no sooner known than I had messages
from the wives of all the sheikh’s chiefs who were my friends,
saying that they should come to me, if the Begharmis came, as I had
guns and plenty of powder; so that I might have had as numerous,
and almost as formidable, an army as the sheikh himself, for, from
what I had seen of both sexes in Bornou, I believe, in my heart,
the women would have fought better than their husbands. The enemy
came on several times, and offered battle; but as the sheikh could
not get them in the situation he wished for, he refused the combat.
On the 28th, however, the struggle commenced. The Begharmis became
bold in consequence of the sheikh’s apparent unwillingness to
fight, and they at length ventured to attack him in the plain to the
south-east of Angala, on the edge of which he had halted. The kafila,
which had departed for Soudan, had deprived him of at least thirty of
his Arabs; and the few that remained, with some forty Musgow slaves,
who had been trained to the firelock, being his great dependence,
he placed them on his flanks. No sooner had the Begharmis cleared
the wood, than the sheikh, hoisting his green flag in the centre, and
surrounded by his Kanemboo spearmen, moved rapidly on: the two guns
in front, which Hillman had mounted, with the Arabs and musketeers,
right and left of them. The Begharmis, also, came on with great
coolness in a solid mass, five thousand strong, with two hundred
chiefs at their head: they made directly for the centre, where the
sheikh had raised the standard of the Prophet, but were repulsed by
a discharge from his artillery: they now fell upon Barca Gana’s
flank, which was attacked with such determined bravery, that all,
except himself and a chosen band, gave way: and here fell my friend
and preserver Maramy, who, while in the act of drawing his spear
from the body of one of their chiefs, received a thrust in his own,
which went quite through him. The Bornouese horse, who, on occasions
of this kind, when the road is opened for them, are most active,
now took up the pursuit of the routed Begharmis: the Arabs, also,
mounted and joined them; and of the two hundred chiefs of Begharmi
one only is said to have escaped alive. Seven sons of the sultan were
amongst the killed, and seventeen hundred of less note; whilst great
numbers were put to death by the people of the towns to which they
fled, who now, as if by magic, all became the stanch friends of the
sheikh. The water of the little stream, Gambalarum, near which the
battle was fought, also lent its aid in destroying these invaders;
and many were drowned in attempting its passage: but above all,
“The guns! the guns! the guns! Oh, wonderful! how they made the
dogs skip!—Oh, the guns!” were words in every body’s mouth. My
friend, the sheikh, however, thought there was a little too much of
this, for on the second day, he said, “True, the guns are wonderful,
’tis true!—but I lifted my hands, and said, _Sidi absolam, sidi
abdel garda!_ and from that moment the victory was yours.” It is
said that, on the morning of the battle, the sheikh appeared at the
door of his tent, with the English double-barrelled gun in his hand,
and his English sword slung over his shoulders, clothed in the dress
of a simple trooper, saying it was his intention to fight on foot,
at the head of his Kanemboos;—that he expected all the Arabs to
follow his example, and encourage the slaves, who were but young
in the use of the firelock: that if it pleased God to grant their
enemies the victory, flight was out of the question; they had nothing
left but to die before their wives and children were torn from them,
and escape so appalling a sight.
April 4.—Nothing could exceed the joy of the people at having
obtained the victory: the men walked about all day in their new tobes,
and the women danced, sang, and beat the drum, all night. My hut was
thronged with visitors, all recounting their own feats, and bewailing
their friends—sending the Begharmis to the devil, and asking for
presents on their return, all in the same breath. I had a private
interview with the sheikh, and offered him my hearty congratulations:
he was as kind and friendly as ever, talked a good deal about the
signal manner in which the Kaffirs had been delivered into his hands,
and mentioned most feelingly the death of my poor companion Mr. Toole,
whom he was very partial to—asked if his mother and father were
living, and turning to Tirab, who was near him, said, “How could
they send him so far off?”
The plunder was said to have amounted to four hundred and eighty
horses, and nearly two hundred women, with two eunuchs, and the
baggage of the princes, which was carried on bullocks and asses. Fifty
of their women were _sirias_[48] of great beauty, belonging to the
sultan’s sons, and these were all given up to the sheikh. But
while all these rejoicings were going on without, the climate was
at work within. Omar, an Arab who had lived several years in the
service of the consul at Tripoli, and had accompanied Mr. Toole, at
his recommendation, a hearty lively fellow, was so severely attacked
by the fever, that in seven days we laid him in the earth. Columbus,
who had been ill ever since he caught the fever from Mr. Toole,
again took to his bed, and seemed to be more debilitated than ever.
April 15.—Although my funds did not exceed eight hundred dollars,
yet I determined to see and talk to the sheikh on the subject of
an eastern journey[49]. “It is not in my power to send you to the
eastward,” said he, “or you should not want my assistance. You
have seen enough yourself of the dispositions of the inhabitants
of the countries towards me, and their power, to know that this is
true. It has pleased God to grant me a victory now, which may lead to
quieter times; even the pilgrims have not for years gone by the Lake
Fittre to Hadge. I am as anxious as you are, and with more reason,
to open a road with Egypt from hence: I cannot, nor can my people,
now go to Mecca, without passing through the bashaw of Tripoli’s
territories, and there are reasons which make that disagreeable. Why
not try it from Egypt, where you have many friends, and return from
this way by Fezzan?—that would be easier.” The sheikh has a most
singular manner of delivery, and I scarcely ever met with any person
who expressed himself so clearly, and with so few words. I replied,
“that if I could not proceed in the way I wished, I should return,
and either take his advice about Egypt, or wait till better times:
that the King of England, upon hearing from me of his kindness,
his willingness to assist us, and his friendship, would send some
other Englishmen, with proofs of his good will, who would claim his
assistance in getting to Sennaar.” “God keep you from evil!”
said he; “but tell your great king to send you again: here you are
known, and loved by the people; and know them, and their language: we
all will wish to see you again—what shall we do with a stranger?”
The sheikh sent this day for Columbus: “You have lived greatly,”
said he, “amongst Mussulmans; why do not you say, _La il la ilallah:
shed, shed_, and paradise is open to you?” Columbus, who knew Turks
perfectly, replied, “If it is written, so it will be:” “True,”
said the sheikh, “but death is near. I, however, still think you
love Mussulmans, and are a believer in your heart: true, the time may
not be yet come;—pray God it may come, and quickly, both for you
and Sahaby Khaleel (meaning me). I have sent to speak to you, and I
think you will tell me the truth:—what is this wish of Khaleel’s
to go to Egypt? I think he is my friend, and I think the English
are my friends; but a man’s head is always his best friend. I fear
they wish to overthrow the Mussulman power altogether.” The reply
of Columbus was, “As far as I know they want to do no such thing:
they wish to see, and to describe the country, with its inhabitants;
and if the English are the first to do so, they will pride themselves
greatly in consequence.” “And is that all?” replied the sheikh;
“Oh! wonderful: no one would believe it,—no one does here but
myself, but I do, because they say so, and they are not liars.”
April 30.—Every thing had been in preparation for a ghrazzie, upon
an extensive scale: its destination was a secret; but I inquired of
the sheikh, and added, that I hoped he would allow me to accompany
him. To this he consented; and, in the evening, sent me word that
they should pass the river at Showy, and proceed north-east towards
Fittre, for the purpose of annihilating, if possible, the Shouaas La
Sala of Amanook, who were in that direction, and allies of the sultan
of Begharmi. Amanook was a determined warrior, as well as a terrible
fighi. In his escape, after the late fight, his horse had fallen with
him, and some followers of Maffatai came upon him; they were about
to finish him, when he discovered himself, and by a promise of one
thousand bullocks was allowed to escape, one of the men giving him
a horse: this horse also knocked up previous to reaching the river,
and Amanook saved himself by creeping into the warren of some wild
hogs (foul disgrace to a believer!) when after remaining a night
and a day, he ventured out, and escaped by swimming across.
The story got to the sheikh’s ears, and the Maffatai Sultan was
sent for. These worthies having quarrelled in the division of the
spoil, one of them betrayed the rest: and all of them were hanged
accordingly, even he who informed; and the sultan, having been kept
in a state of great alarm for several days, was at length released,
on the payment to the sheikh of twenty bullock loads of tobes,
nearly one thousand dollars, for having such people in his kingdom.
On the 4th of May we left Kouka for Angornou, for the purpose
of proceeding on the ghrazzie. Rhamadan had now begun two days,
and strong objections were made by the Kanemboos and Shouaas to
proceeding: they had been nearly two months in the field already,
and they were most anxious to prepare for the sowing season, which was
now approaching; the difficulty, however, of fasting from sunrise to
sunset, while on a campaign at this hot season, for the thermometer
was 102° and 104° each day, and the sin of breaking the Rhamadan,
by doing otherwise, were made the grounds of objection, and could not
fail of having their weight with the sheikh. On the 8th, therefore,
we all returned, and the expedition was put off for a month.
From this time, until the 19th instant, we were in a state of great
tranquillity: every body was suffering from the severity of the
Rhamadan, which was unusually oppressive this year—the days were
thirteen hours long, and the heat excessive.
On the 19th instant I had news of Mr. Tyrwhit’s arrival at the river
Yeou, and on the 20th I went out to meet him at the resting place,
called Dowergoo. This gentleman His Majesty’s Government had kindly
sent out to strengthen our party, without knowing how fatally the
climate had weakened us: he was the bearer of presents to the sheikh,
in acknowledgment of the kind reception we had experienced, and was
also accompanied by the sheikh’s children, so long detained at
Mourzuk by the intrigues and contrivances of the late bey, Mustapha,
the sultan of Fezzan.
On the 22d instant we delivered the presents from his Majesty in
full form, consisting of two swords, of very beautiful workmanship,
two pair of pistols, a dagger, and two gold watches: the delight,
nay ecstasy, with which these well-selected specimens of our
manufactories were received by El Kanemy, was apparent in every
feature of his intelligent countenance, and in the quick glances of
his sparkling and penetrating eye. The dagger, and the watch with the
seconds movement, were the articles which struck him most forcibly;
and when I mentioned, that, agreeably to his request, a parcel of
rockets had also been forwarded, he exclaimed, “What, besides all
these riches! there are no friends like these! they are all truth;
and I see, by the Book, that if the Prophet had lived only a short
time longer, they would have been all Moslem!”
June 1.—The Rhamadan was now over, and we had, in the place of
fasting and complainings, feastings and rejoicings: the oftener in
the twenty-four hours a man could afford to eat meat, the greater
person he was considered. The heat had been very oppressive, and the
people complained dreadfully, as the sheikh admitted of no excuse for
breaking the Rhamadan: any man who was caught suffering his thirst
to get the better of him, or visiting his wives between sunrise and
sunset, was sentenced to four hundred stripes with a whip made of
the skin of the hippopotamus—a dreadful punishment. An hour or
two before the sun went down, sometimes more than a dozen of the
class to whom labour rendered the deprivation of liquid for so many
hours far more insufferable, would lay themselves near the well, and
have buckets of water thrown over them, the only relief that could
be allowed, and which appeared greatly to revive them, even when
almost fainting with thirst. With the feast of the Aid, however,
finished all their sufferings, and also the recollection of them;
for the wrestlings now took place in front of the sheikh’s house,
as before, and the evening dances at the gates of the town were
crowded with many picturesque groups. I had, several times during
the fast, paid the sheikh a visit by his desire, soon after sunrise,
the only time in the day, at this season, that he is visible: our
meeting was always in his garden, which a few pomegranate and lime
trees made really here a refreshing spot, which was not a little
increased by the troughs of water which reached from the well all
round this miserable, though royal, nursery-ground, and refreshed the
roots of the languid and drooping trees. Our conversation chiefly
related to the war with Tunis, which he seemed to think of great
importance, and added, that, friends as we were with all Mussulmans,
our taking up the cause of their enemies seemed very unaccountable. I
endeavoured to explain it to him, that we were enemies to cruelty
and blood-shedding, let who would be the perpetrators; that we as
often prevented Greeks from massacring Turks, and always released
prisoners of either faith, whenever our cruisers found them confined
in the ships of their enemies. I do not know that I should have
succeeded in satisfying him entirely of our disinterested conduct,
had it not been for Shrief Hashashy, a very respectable Moor,
who, having been robbed of every thing on the road from Soudan,
was now recovering himself a little by the sheikh’s liberality
to the distressed: he was present, and certainly helped me out
greatly. “Will my lord listen to me?” said he: “what the rais
has just told my lord, I can vouch for the truth of. My lord knows,
that the brother of my heart, my youngest brother, Ab’deen, trades
to Smyrna and Suez: he fell into the hands of these worst of kaffirs,
and with twenty others, Moslem, was taken out of a Greek vessel,
with their hands bound ready for execution, by an English captain,
who fed and clothed them, and landed them at Smyrna. In short, the
English, as I have heard, and believe, made war for twenty years,
for no other purpose but to obtain peace.” “Wonderful!” said
the sheikh; “but where is the profit of all this?” “That,
my lord must inquire of themselves: their wars cannot bring them
profit, but, on the contrary, must cost them great sums.” “But
what will they do with Tunis?” said the sheikh, turning to me;
“they have many large-mouthed guns, and plenty of gunpowder:—can
three or four ships force them to do as you wish?—No charms will
have any effect, believe me, for they have a fighi of great power
and knowledge.” “Probably so,” returned I; “we seldom fight
with such weapons—indeed it is probable there will be no fighting
at all. If these four ships prevent all intercourse between them
and the other nations with whom they trade, will they not be glad
to listen to reason for the sake of obtaining peace, and a renewal
of their trade and free intercourse?” “True, true,” said the
sheikh, “most true; you are a thinking people.”
June 4.—This afternoon, I was sent for to the palace in a most
violent hurry, as one of the young princes had swallowed a fish-bone,
or a piece of wood, and was choking. I hurried on my bornouse,
and made the best haste I could; and although the distance was
not above five hundred yards, the sand, which is always nearly up
to the ancles in the streets, prevented the possibility of moving
very quick; and the Aga Gana, and Mady Sala, two of the sheikh’s
negro chamberlains, who had been sent for me, soon got some way in
advance: they made signs, and called out to me, in great distress,
to come on; which I answered with, the perspiration flowing down my
cheeks, “Softly! softly!” This answer, it seems, did not accord
with their impatience, which was in proportion to that their master
had displayed in despatching them for me; without a word, therefore,
they both came running back to me, seized me in their arms, and in
about three minutes placed me on the steps leading to the sheikh’s
terrace. Had they desired any of the four slaves by whom they were
each of them followed to have done this, I certainly should have been
inclined to rebel; but when these lords of the bedchamber themselves
condescended to bear me in their arms, which they did with great
gentleness, I took it, as I have no doubt it was meant, in good part.
I found the young prince with something or other in his throat, which
would neither come up nor go down. I at first thought of covering
a pistol ramrod with rag, and introducing that, but I afterwards
determined to try some large pills of wax candle, of which I was
first obliged to swallow three myself, to show the little fellow
how; and at last, by dipping them in honey, I did get him to gulp a
couple, when, to my great joy, the obstruction was removed, and the
sheikh highly delighted. I had already acquired the name of _tibeeb_
(doctor), but this operation raised my fame exceedingly.
While I was waiting in the palace, in consequence of this accident,
a punishment took place, probably only equalled in severity by that of
the knout in Russia, and which, as is often the case in that country,
caused the death of the culprit before the morning. In this instance
the unfortunate man had been found, by the spies of the kadi (who are
always on the alert), slumbering in his amours, and was now to pay
the penalty of his carelessness. In the middle of the day, during
the Rhamadan, he had been seen asleep in his hut, and the wife of
another man (a merchant), who had been some time absent in Soudan,
stretched by his side; they were therefore, without any hesitation,
presumed guilty of having broken the Rhamadan. He was sentenced to
receive four hundred stripes, and his partner half that number. Her
head was first shaved, her dress and ear-rings, arm-lets, leg-lets,
&c. were given to the informer; she was taken up by four men, with
only a cloth round her middle, by means of which she was suspended,
in a manner not to be described, while a powerful negro inflicted the
full number of lashes she was condemned to receive. This took place
inside the court-yard of the palace: she was afterwards carried home
senseless. The man received his punishment in the dender, or square,
suspended in the same manner, but with eight men, instead of four,
to support him: an immense whip, of one thick thong cut off from the
skin of the hippopotamus, was first shown to him, which he was obliged
to kiss, and acknowledge the justness of his sentence. The fatah was
then said aloud, and two powerful slaves of the sheikh inflicted the
stripes, relieving each other every thirty or forty strokes: they
strike on the back, while the end of the whip, which has a knob or
head, winds round, and falls on the breast or upper stomach: this it
is that renders these punishments fatal. After the first two hundred,
blood flowed from him upwards and downwards, and in a few hours
after he had taken the whole four hundred, he was a corpse. The agas,
kashellas, and the kadis, attend on these occasions. I was assured
the man did not breathe even a sigh audibly. Another punishment
succeeded this, which, as it was for a minor offence, namely,
stealing ten camels and selling them, was trifling, as they only
gave him one hundred stripes, and with a far less terrific weapon.
June 16.—Every thing was now prepared for the expedition to
the eastern side of the Tchad, and Mr. Tyrwhitt determined on
accompanying me.
On the 17th of June we reached Angornou, and from thence the sheikh
despatched the ghrazzie, with Barca Gana, the chief, Ali Gana, the
second, and Tirab, the third in command. At an interview which I
had this morning, he called them all towards him, and said, “This
is the duty of you all, take care of these strangers: they wish to
go round by Kanem, which must be done, if possible: let them have
twenty horsemen, or more, if necessary.”
[Illustration: A LOGGUN LADY.
ABDALLAH OF MANDARA.
FUNHA OF MAFFATAI.
From Drawings by Major Denham.
Engraved by E. Finden.
_Published Feb. 1826, by John Murray, London._]
On entering the town of Angala, on the 19th, Bellal, who had
accompanied Mr. Toole and myself on the excursion to Loggun, again
pointed out the place where we had deposited my unfortunate friend. I
went to the spot to see that it was not disturbed; and a peaceful
depository it had proved for his remains: every thing remained just
as I had left it, even to the branches which covered his grave, and
I was fearful, by exciting observations, to risk their disturbance.
On the 20th we reached Maffatai, and took possession once more of my
old quarters in Birmah’s house. The host, however, was from home,
getting his gussub into the ground; his eldest wife did the honours:
she also gave me a little more of her company than before, and told
me, very good-naturedly, that she could do many things now, that she
could not when the lord was at home. Nothing, indeed, could exceed
the kindness with which my hostess, who was called Ittha, did all she
could to show how welcome a visitor I was. “Birmah,” she said,
“must stay and get in the corn, but she hoped I should not miss
him.” During the first day she came repeatedly with her sister
Funha, a negress with an expression of countenance more pleasing than
I had ever before seen, of about eighteen, who, Ittha said, was most
anxious to see me, from what she had told her formerly. Luckily,
she added, Funha had divorced her husband only two days before, or
she could not have had that pleasure. Ittha, with all the familiarity
of an old acquaintance, uncovered my hands, arms, and breast, to show
to her sister my extraordinary whiteness. It seemed to surprise her
greatly; but nevertheless I was pleased to observe that it did not
appear to excite either much alarm or disgust: but what certainly
seemed to both the greatest wonder, was the sight and touch of my
head, which had just been shaved; it was literally passed from the
hands of one to the other, with so many remarks, that some minutes
elapsed ere I could be allowed to replace my turban. When, at length,
they left me, Ittha exclaimed, pressing my hand with both hers,
that I was fit to be a sultan, _mai, mai, wolla!_ and that Funha
should shampoo me, and try to bring on sleep, as I must be tired and
fatigued by the heat of the sun. This, however, was not all: towards
evening, more than a dozen of Ittha’s friends, the principal ladies
of the town, came, in consequence of the liberty she enjoyed while
the goodman was away, to have a look at the _bulfulk_ (white man),
each bringing me something—a few onions, a little rice, or a bowl
of milk, as a present. Funha performed all the duties imposed on
her to perfection. I had a supper of pounded rice, milk, and honey,
with something like bread made into cakes: and verily I began to
think, like Ittha herself, that I not only deserved to be a sultan,
but that I had really commenced my reign.
We moved to Showy, and crossing the Gurdya by a slanting ford, came
more to the eastward than before, and by a nearer route. I was here
greatly amused with seeing a party of girls skipping in a long rope,
just as we do in England, and the fear of losing my dignity alone
prevented my speedily joining them. They performed well; but then
it must be recollected that they were totally unincumbered with
drapery or any covering whatever, although good-sized young ladies
of twelve or thirteen years old. The inhabitants of Showy are a most
indolent happy people: half the night is passed in fishing, which
is their sole support; and towards evening, each day, the sound of
the drum calls them to the open space in the centre of their huts,
when the men form themselves into circles, and dance in a most
uncouth though joyous manner. The women all assemble at a certain
part of the circle, sitting on the ground with their faces covered,
and salute the most active with loud screams of approbation.
[Illustration: _D. Denham._
_J. & C. Walker Sculp._
_Hager Teous called by the Natives the Foot Stool of Noah._
_Published by J. Murray, Albemarle Street London. March 1826._]
June 24.—We crossed the Shary with but little less water than we
had found six months before, and passing the day on the east bank,
we moved again in the evening: we saw twelve crocodiles basking on
the banks. A large party of Shouaas were passing on rafts, swimming
their sheep and bullocks, which they drive over in flocks, one
being first forced into the river, and dragged over by a line run
through the cartilage of the nose. Women often perform this duty,
showing great strength and agility in swimming and curbing these
powerful animals. We made nine miles, passed quantities of _ghrwka_
(castor-nut tree), and at noon arrived at lake Hamese, which is part
of the Tchad, and halted at some Shouaa huts of the Beni Hassan tribe,
at a place called Zeabra. In continuation of our course, we halted,
in the afternoon, at Berbeeta, where we encountered a terrible storm,
and were sadly bitten by mosquitoes.
A little to the northward of the road, and at the head of the
lake Hamese, are some very curious rocks of red granite standing
in an immense plain, at a great distance from any mountains of
a corresponding structure: one is of a conical form, and distant
about three hundred yards from the others, which are connected. The
space between Kou Abdallah, the name of the first, and the other
three is covered with loose fragments of rock of different sizes,
and it is natural to suppose they were all formerly united: the
three are called Hager Teous by the Bornouese, and by the Shouaa
Bete Nibbe Mohammed. I had dismounted for the purpose of approaching
nearer to the base of the single rock, over the broken fragments by
which it was surrounded, principally for the purpose of procuring
some specimens, when those who were waiting in the plain exclaimed,
“A lion! a lion! a lion!” I began to look around me with great
anxiety, and quickly perceived a large female panther, big with young,
bursting from the shade of the loose fragments just before me, and,
frightened at the cries of the negroes, was running up the rock. These
are the most dangerous animals that are here met with, although they
never attack when several persons are together; my being in advance
was what alarmed the rest. The animal, however, passed quietly away.
June 26.—We still kept near the swamps which surround the Tchad,
and halting as usual for two hours in the heat of the day, by sunset
we had made nineteen miles, winding, and arrived at the huts of the
Biddomassy Shouaa, where Barca Gana was encamped.
June 27.—Proceeded fifteen miles, and found the Dugganah Shouaa
were about three miles before us, with Malem Chadely, and a small body
of the sheikh’s people who had preceded us. We forded to-day eight
waters, branches of the lake, some up to the body of the horse; while
the camels took a more circuitous route, and passed beyond the waters
on perfectly dry ground. Amanook’s people, we found, had fled.
June 28.—Although on our arriving at the camp of the Dugganah
a long parley was held, and a number of questions asked of sheikh
Hamed, as to Amanook’s numbers, and his hiding-place, yet the first
object of the expedition did not appear until just before daylight
this morning, when the whole body mounted, and in fifteen minutes
were moving towards Kanem Mendoo, one day from Maou, the capital;
from whence the Waday’s had driven the sheikh’s friends. Mendoo
had thrown off the sheikh’s government, and Edershi Gebere, nephew
of the Fugboo, that had been put to death by the order of Mustapha
L’Achmar the sultan of Fezzan, now ruled as khalifa. The sheikh’s
object had been to catch him by surprise; and for this reason Amanook
and La Sala were always held out as the sole destination of the
army. Mendoo was nearly in my road, and it was therefore necessary
that it should be cleared first of these rebels. Barca Gana sent
in the night for Bellal, and desired him to acquaint me with his
intention, and that as he should merely halt to sully (pray) and water
the horses, from his starting until the sun should be three fathoms
high on the following day, when he should surround Mendoo; that the
sheikh wished me to remain where I then was until his return, which
would be in four days, when he trusted I should be able to proceed
in safety. I should have preferred going on, and leaving Mendoo to
him, have passed on round the Tchad; but he would not hear of such
an arrangement, and as I was kept in ignorance of this plan until
the whole army was actually in motion, I had no alternative. Not a
camel went with them, and all the baggage and siriahs were left in
the camp. Bellal now became the chief, and with the assistance of the
Shouaas and Arabs, the camp was intrenched, trees were cut down, and
a sort of abbattis quickly formed for our protection. Our situation
was, however, one of jeopardy and inconvenience, as nothing but
their ignorance of our movements could save us from an attack from
Amanook’s people, to whom we should have been a fine booty and an
easy prey. From our vicinity to the Tchad, the swarms of flies in the
day, and mosquitoes at night, were so great, that we were obliged to
resort to our old remedy of lighting fires, and living in the smoke,
in order to obtain a little peace.
June 29.—The Dugganah chief, Tahr, came to my tent to-day, attended
by about twenty people, who all sat down behind him bareheaded, while
he had on a dark blue cotton cap. He had a fine, serious, expressive
countenance, large features, and a long bushy beard: these are the
particular characteristics of these Shouaas—they differ from the
Shouaas to the west, who have mixed more with the natives. Tahr might
have sat for the picture of one of the patriarchs; and an able artist
would have produced a beautiful head from such a study. Their mode
of salutation is by closing their hands gently several times—as
we applaud—and then extending the palms of both flat towards you,
exclaiming, “_L’affia?_—Are you well and happy?”
Tahr, with his followers, after looking at me with an earnestness
that was distressing to me for a considerable time, at last gained
confidence enough to ask some questions, commencing, as usual,
with “What brought you here? they say your country is a moon from
Tripoli.” I replied, “to see by whom the country was inhabited;
and whether it had lakes, and rivers, and mountains like our own.”
“And have you been three years from your home? Are not your eyes
dimmed with straining to the north, where all your thoughts must
ever be? Oh! you are men, men, indeed! Why, if my eyes do not see
the wife and children of my heart for ten days, when they should be
closed in sleep they are flowing with tears.”
I had bought a sheep for a dollar, a coin with which he was not
conversant; and he asked if it was true that they came out of the
earth? The explanation pleased him. “You are not Jews?” said
he. “No,” said I. “Christians, then?” “Even so,” replied
I. “I have read of you: you are better than Jews,” said he. “Are
Jews white, like you?” “No,” replied I; “rather more like
yourself, very dark.” “Really;” said the sheikh: “Why, are
they not quite white? They are a bad people.” After staying a full
hour, he took my hand, and said, “I see you are a sultan: I never
saw any body like you. The sight of you is as pleasing to my eyes,
as your words are to my ear. My heart says you are my friend. May you
die at your own tents, and in the arms of your wives and family.”
“Amen,” said I; and they all took their leave.
June 30.—Tahr paid me another visit to-day. The Dugganahs were
formerly Waday, and were strong enough to have great influence with
the sultan; but by quarrelling among themselves, they lost their
influence, and became subject to the Waday sultans. They generally
passed one part of the year in the Bahr-al-Ghazal, and the other part
by lake Fittre: in these two spots had been the regular frigues, or
camps, for several generations. Sheikh Hamed his father, the present
chief, who had more than one hundred children, found that another
tribe of Dugganah had been intriguing with the sultan of Waday against
him, and that he was to be plundered, and his brethren to share in
the spoil. On learning this, he fled with his flocks and his wives,
offered himself to the sheikh, El Kanemy, and had since lived in his
dominions. The account he gave of the Tchad was this—it formerly
emptied itself into the Bahr-el-Ghazal by a stream, the dry bed of
which still remained, now filled with large trees and full of pasture:
it was situated between the N’Gussum and Kangarah, inhabited by
Waday Kanemboos. “I could take you there,” said he, “in a day;
but not now—spears are now shining in the hands of the sons of Adam,
and every man fears his neighbour.” He had heard his grandfather,
when he was a boy, say, “that it there gradually wasted itself in
an immense swamp, or, indeed, lake[50]: the whole of that was now
dried up. They all thought,” he said, “the overflowings of the
Tchad were decreasing, though almost imperceptibly. From hence to
Fittre was four days: there was no water, and but two wells on the
road. Fittre,” he said, “was large; but not like the Tchad. His
infancy had been passed on its borders. He had often heard Fittre
called the Darfoor water and Shilluk. Fittre had a stream running
out of it—was not like the Tchad, which every body knew was now
a still water; a river also came from the south-west, which formed
lake Fittre; and this and the Nile were one: he believed this was
also the Shary; but he knew nothing to the westward: it, however,
came from the Kerdy country, called Bosso, and slaves had been
brought to Fittre by it, who had their teeth all pointed and their
ears cut quite close to their heads.” Tahr wished to purchase
our water skins, “for,” said he, “we can get none like them;
and either to Fittre, or Waday, we pass a high country, and find but
few wells.” The Biddoomah sometimes pay them a visit; and although
generally professing friendship, always steal something. The last
time, they sold them a woman and a boy; which by Barca Gana’s
people were recognized as the same they, the Biddomahs, had stolen
from the neighbourhood of Angornou six months before: they were of
course restored without payment. The hyænas were here so numerous,
and so bold, as to break over the fence of bushes in the middle
of a thunder-storm, and carry off a sheep from within five yards
of my tent. We had news that Barca Gana had found Mendoo deserted,
and was disappointed in catching the khalifa.
The Shouaas live entirely in tents of leather, or rather of rudely
dressed hides, and huts of rushes, changing but from necessity, on the
approach of an enemy, or want of pasturage for their numerous flocks:
they seldom fight except in their own defence. The chiefs never leave
their homes, but send bullocks to the markets at Maffatai and Mekhari,
and bring gussub in return: their principal food, however, is the
milk of camels, in which they are rich, and also that of cows and
sheep; this they will drink and take no other nourishment for months
together. Their camps are circular, and are called dowera[51], or
frigue, with two entrances for the cattle to enter at and be driven
out. They have the greatest contempt for, and hatred of, the negro
nations, and yet are always tributary to either one black sultan or
another: there is no example of their ever having peopled a town,
or established themselves in a permanent home.
[Illustration: Sketch of the LAKE TCHAD.
_D. Denham._
_J. & C. Walker Sculpt._
_Published as the Act directs Feby. 1826, by John Murray Albemarle
Street London._]
For several days we were kept in the greatest suspense. No news
arrived from the army. Reports varied: it was said Barca Gana
had pushed on to Maou and Waday; again, that he was gone to the
islands. We had thunder and rain, with distressing heat, and flies,
and mosquitoes to torture. Bellal would not go on, and I would not
go back: we were consuming daily our store of rice, with eight days
before us to Woodie, through a country without supplies.
July 6.—On the evening of yesterday, Barca Gana, with the chiefs,
and about half their force, returned; the remainder had been obliged
to halt on the road, to refresh their horses. He had pushed on to
Maou after Edirshe Gebere, a Shouaa chief of Korata Mendooby. Fugboo
Kochamy, as he was called, was the fourth khalifa whom the sheikh
had placed at Maou (his three predecessors having been strangled by
the Waday people); he was first cousin to Edirshe, who, affecting
friendship for him, lulled his suspicions, and one night attacked
him in his capital. Kochamy made a gallant defence; he killed nine
of them with his spear, but was at length overcome, and died, with
eleven others of the sheikh’s allies. Fugboo Jemamy, his brother,
alone escaped: to assist Jemamy was the object of Barca Gana. Edirshe
had news of their movements, notwithstanding they went nearly fifty
miles in a day and night, and appeared first at Mendoo, and then
at Maou, on the day after they left us. Edirshe had fled with all
his cattle and women: they found them about ten miles from Maou,
entrenched within a circular camp, with all their cattle, women,
and children, strongly defended with stakes; their bowmen were all
distributed between the stakes, and in front of the entrenchment:
they saluted their enemies with shrill cries on their approach,
and the sheikh’s people, after looking at them for a day and a
night, without any provisions for either men or horses, dared not
attack them. Disappointed, therefore, in their hopes of plunder and
revenge, the whole returned here, their horses and men nearly in a
state of starvation.
July 10.—We were all anxiety this day. Barca Gana was nearly one
thousand strong, and about four hundred Dugganahs joined him, besides
furnishing him with nearly one hundred horses. Amanook was one of
the sheikh’s most troublesome remaining enemies; the sheikh had, on
various occasions, and lastly, when he joined the Begharmis in their
attack on Bornou, very severely crippled him, and destroyed more than
half his force: the design now was to annihilate the remainder, and
secure, if possible, the person of this inveterate foe, who kept alive
the hostile feeling both on the Begharmi and Waday side. Amanook,
however, was not to be taken by surprise, and he gave the sheikh’s
troops such a proof of what might be done by a handful of men,
bold of soul, and determined to defend an advantageous situation,
that they will not easily forget. Just before sunset a Fezzanneer,
who had lately entered into the sheikh’s service, returned to the
camp, giving an account of Barca Gana’s complete discomfiture,
and Bellal and myself immediately mounted our horses in order to
learn the particulars. The Tchad[52], which in this part forms
itself into innumerable still waters, or lakes of various extents,
and consequently leaves many detached spaces of land or islands,
always afforded the La Sala Shouaas, and the Biddomah, natural
defences, which their enemies had ever found it extremely difficult
to conquer. In one of these situations, these very La Salas, with
Amanook at their head, kept the sultan of Fezzan, with two thousand
Arabs, and all the sheikh’s army, several days in check, and killed
between thirty and forty of the Arabs before they surrendered. On
this occasion Amanook had taken possession of one of these islands,
which, to attack with horsemen alone, in front of an opposing enemy,
was the height of imprudence. A narrow pass led between two lakes
to a third, behind which Amanook had posted himself with all his
cattle, and his people, male and female: the lake, in front of
him, was neither deep nor wide, but full of holes, and had a muddy
deceitful bottom on the side from whence the attack was made.
The sight of the bleating flocks, and lowing herds, was too much
for the ravenous troops of the sheikh, irritated by their recent
disappointment; and notwithstanding the declaration of Barca Gana,
that he wished to halt on the opposite side of the water, and send
for spearmen on foot, with shields, who would lead the attack, the
junior chiefs all exclaimed, “What! be so near them as this, and
not eat them? No, no! let us on! This night these flocks and women
will be ours.” This cry the sheikh’s Shouaas also joined in, ever
loud in talk, but rearmost in the fight, as the sequel proved. The
attack commenced: the Arabs, of whom there were about eighty, led
the way with the Dugganah. On arriving in the middle of the lake the
horses sank up to their saddle-bows, most of them were out of their
depth, and others floundered in the mud: the ammunition of the riders
became wet, their guns useless, many even missed the first fire, and
they were unhorsed in this situation. As they approached the shore,
the La Sala hurled at them, with unerring aim, a volley of their
light spears, a very formidable missile, which they followed up by a
charge of their strongest and best horse, trained and accustomed to
the water; while, at the same time, another body, having crossed the
lake higher up, came by the narrow pass, and cut off the retreat of
all those who had advanced into the lake. The Shouaas, on the first
appearance of resistance, had, as usual, gone to the right about,
and left those, under whose cover they meant to plunder, to fight it
out by themselves: the slaughter now became very desperate amongst
the sheikh’s people. Barca Gana, although attacking against his
own judgment, was of the foremost, and received a severe spear
wound in his back, which pierced through four tobes, and an iron
chain armour, while attacked by five chiefs, who seemed determined
on finishing him; one of whom he thrust completely through with
his long spear. By crowding around him, and by helping him quickly
to a fresh horse, his own people and chiefs saved him, and thirty
of them remained either killed or in the hands of the La Sala: but
few of those who were wounded in the water, or whose horses failed
them there, escaped. We found Barca Gana, with the other chiefs,
seated near the second water; he was in great pain from his wound,
and the whole army dreadfully disheartened: they had not more than
forty followers in all. We vainly waited until sunset, in the hopes
of the missing making their appearance, but we were disappointed, and
returned to the camp. By this desertion of the sheikh’s Shouaas,
the Dugganahs suffered severely: anxious to show their sincerity
to the sheikh, they had gone on boldly, and their loss exceeded one
hundred; eighteen of the Arabs were also missing. The night was passed
in a state of great anxiety, from the fear of an attack on our camp;
and the sense of our unjoyous situation was constantly awakened by
the melancholy dirges which the Dugganah women were singing over
their dead husbands, really so musically piteous, that it was almost
impossible not to sympathize in their affliction.
The Dugganah, from being the humblest of allies, now became rather
dictatorial, and told the general very plainly that they could fight
better without him than with him: they refused him both bullocks and
sheep, and said they must keep them to pay the ransom of their people.
Amanook, who it seems had no idea of following up his victory
by an attack on our camp, which he might have done successfully,
and carried off all the chiefs, siriahs, and camels, sent word this
evening that he would now treat with nobody but the sheikh himself;
that he had declared to the general, before he attacked him, that he
feared no one but God, the Prophet, and the sheikh, and wished for
peace: “They would not listen to me,” said he, “but attempted
to take by force what was their master’s before; for all we had was
the sheikh’s, and is still. By God’s help my people overcame them,
but that is nothing; I am to the sheikh, in point of strength, as an
egg is to a stone: if he wishes peace, and will no more molest me in
my wilds, peace be with us—I will give up his people, his horses,
and his arms, that have fallen into my hands; if not, I will keep
them all, and may be add to their number. We are not easily beaten:
by the head of the Prophet, I can and will, if I am forced, turn
fish, and fly to the centre of the water; and if the sheikh comes
himself against me, I will bring Waday against him.”
July 8.—The chiefs all refused to withdraw their forces on this
offer of Amanook: they sent word that he was not to be depended on,
so often had he deceived them. Nothing but an unconditional return of
all the spoil would satisfy them. In a long conversation which I had
with Barca Gana, whose wound was now fast healing from the dressing
of burnt fat and sulphur, which I had applied, he assured me that
they should not make another attempt on this bold chieftain: he,
however, advised my returning to Kouka. “The excursion,” said he,
“you wish to make was always dangerous, it is now impracticable; we
must wait for the sheikh’s appearance before we can do any thing,
and I think, from the advanced state of the season, as the rains
have now begun to fall, you will find that the sheikh will not come,
and that we shall all return.”
By being ten days encamped[53] close to the frigue of the Dugganah
Shouaas, we had a better opportunity of observing these curious
people: they were a superior class to any I had met with; they
were rich in cattle, and in camels, and seemed to live in plenty,
and patriarchal simplicity. The sheikh had greatly encouraged
their taking refuge with him on their disagreement with Waday,
and had promised them protection, tribute free, provided they were
faithful. Both the men and women were comely, particularly the latter,
who, when they found that we paid for what we wanted in little bits
of coarse _karem_ (amber), with which I had provided myself, brought
us, night and morning, frothy bowls of milk, which formed by far the
best part of our repasts. There is something so curious and singularly
interesting and expressive in the Shouaa manners and language, that I
am at a loss how to describe it. A girl sits down by your tent with
a bowl of milk, a dark blue cotton wrapper tied round her waist,
and a mantila of the same thrown over her head, with which she hides
her face, yet leaves all her bust naked; she says, “A happy day
to you! Your friend has brought you milk: you gave her something
so handsome yesterday, she has not forgotten it. Oh! how her eyes
ache to see all you have got in that wooden house,” pointing to a
trunk. “We have no fears now; we know you are good; and our eyes,
which before could not look at you, now search after you always:
they bid us beware of you, at first, for you were bad, very bad;
but we know better now. How it pains us that you are so white!”
As we had not more than four days’ provision, I determined on
returning after another interview with Barca Gana: we left Tangalia,
and returned to the spot where we had left the Biddomassy, and had
scarcely pitched our tents when a storm came on, which lasted till
midnight: but bad as it was, it was preferable to the stings of the
musquitoes and flies which succeeded it. Notwithstanding we had fires
inside the tent, which nearly stifled us, no sleep was to be obtained.
On the 11th we arrived at Showy, after a very tedious march, and
losing our way for three hours: the woods are, indeed, most intricate
and difficult; and as all the Shouaas had moved up towards Barca
Gana, we could get no guides. We saw five _giraffees_ (cameleopards)
to-day, to my great delight; they were the first I had seen alive,
and notwithstanding my fatigue and the heat, Bellal and myself chased
them for half an hour: we kept within about twenty yards of them. They
have a very extraordinary appearance from their being so low behind,
and move awkwardly, dragging, as it were, their hinder legs after
them: they are not swift, and unlike any figure of them I ever met
with. Passing the Shary was attended with very great difficulty;
the stream was extremely rapid, and our horses and camels were
carried away from the sides of the canoe, to which they were lashed:
we lost a camel by this passage; these animals have a great dislike
to water, and after swimming a stream are often seized with illness,
and are carried off in a few hours.
July 12.—Left Showy, and once more found ourselves at Maffatai. The
rest, and fish bazeen, with which we were here regaled, with the
deep shade of Burmah’s spacious mansion, greatly recovered us. The
skin of my face all came off, and I slept nearly the whole day after
our arrival: the sun, rain, flies, and musquitoes, altogether had
fatigued me more than any former journey.
On the 15th we pursued our route homeward by a new course, and halted
close to the Gambalarum, on the ground the Begharmis had escaped
over, after their rencontre with the sheikh: the ground was strewed
with skeletons.
July 16.—After a long and fatiguing march we reached some Felatah
huts, about sunset. The water, after crossing Maffatai, is all sad
muddy stuff; and the nearer you approach Angornou, the blacker the
soil is, and the worse it becomes. We to-day crossed the Molee,
a small stream which runs to the Tchad. The whole of this road,
indeed the whole country from Angala, is an inclined plane towards
the Great Lake, and during the rains it is impassable: they were now
every where sowing their grain, and in many places they were reaping
the Indian corn. Since leaving Maffatai, we had nothing besides a
little rice, to which I added a duck or two, which I made it part
of my business to search after, and shoot.
July 17.—We this day reached Angornou, very much fatigued with
our journey; we had a drenching night of it, and crept into our
friend Abdi Nibbe’s hut, with great joy: the worst of these storms
were that they spoiled the only meal we could get time to cook in
the twenty-four hours; and our tents, which rarely withstood the
blasts, on falling, exposed all our stores as well as ourselves to
the pelting of the storm.
On my arrival again at Kouka I found that Captain Clapperton,
with a small kafila, had returned from Soudan: it was nearly eight
months since we had separated, and although it was midday I went
immediately to the hut where he was lodged; but so satisfied was
I that the sun-burnt sickly person that lay extended on the floor,
rolled in a dark blue shirt, was not my companion, that I was about
to leave the place, when he convinced me of my error, by calling me
by my name: the alteration in him was certainly most striking. Our
meeting was a melancholy one: he had buried his companion, and I
had also closed the eyes of my younger and more robust colleague,
Mr. Toole. Notwithstanding the state of weakness in which I found
Captain Clapperton, he yet spoke of returning to Soudan after
the rains.
July 28.—I had now determined on proceeding by Woodie to Kanem, and
approaching as near as possible to Tangalia, the spot where I had left
Barca Gana, when I had passed by the southern extremity of the lake;
and if I succeeded, and returned before the departure of the kafila
after the Aid Kebir, I fostered a hope of retracing my steps across
the desert, with all the satisfaction of a man who had accomplished
to the full the duties that had been assigned him. Yagah Menamah,
the chief eunuch of the sheikh’s favourite wife, came to me soon
after daylight, and presented me with two _kansara_, or fly-flappers,
made of the tail of the camelopard; and in her name said that she
had burnt salt for my departure, praying that neither the devil nor
any of his imps might be able to play me any malicious tricks on
my journey. The sheikh had consented to Mr. Tyrwhitt’s remaining
as consul: and on my inquiring whether he would protect one or
two English merchants, if they came to his country—“Certainly:
why not?” said he, “and assist them to the extent of my power;
but they must be small traders, or the journey will never pay
them.” He expressed his wish to write to the king, and added,
“whatever I can do in Soudan, remember I am ready. I have influence
there certainly, which may increase, and probably shortly extend to
Nyffé. As to yourself, I shall write to beg the king will send you
here, with any English whom he may wish to visit Bornou. You are
known, and might now go any where in Bornou without fear. Even the
Shouaas on the frontiers, and the Duggenah, all know Rais Khaleel:
but this has not been done hastily; you have been nearly eighteen
months amongst us, and you remember when you could not go to Angornou
without inconvenience. I then thought you would never be as much at
liberty here as you are. Time and yourself may be thanked for this,
not me; for I could not, by any orders I might have given, have done
for you what your mixing freely with the people, and gaining their
good will, has brought about—and yet you are a Christian!”
July 30.—This morning the sheikh sent to Mr. Clapperton,
Mr. Hillman, and myself, as a present, a very fine camel, a horse,
and two water-skins, two leopard skins, and two dressed-leather
sacks. In the course of the morning another cargo was brought to me,
consisting of eight elephants’ tusks, with the horns of three other
animals. The horns were, first, the maremah, a long horn similar to
one I had seen at Kabshary—the animal has two, bending backwards
at the point; kirkadan, a two-horned animal; another animal, with one
long horn and a second shorter just above it, nearly between the eyes
of the animal, was described to me as having, on the sheikh’s late
expedition to Gulphi, carried a man and horse, spiked on his horn,
more than one hundred yards, when, frightened by the cries of the
people, he dropped them, and made his escape: the man was unhurt,
but the horse died.
Aug. 6.—This was the Aide Kebir, the principal feast of the
Mussulmans during the year, in commemoration of God’s staying the
hand of Abraham in the place Jehovah-jireh, when about to sacrifice
his son Isaac: all who can muster a sheep or a goat kill it on this
day, after prayers. The sheikh sent the day before, to know if we
kept the feast; and when we met, repeated his question. I replied,
that we believed the interposition of the Divine Power in saving
Isaac to be a signal proof of God’s mercy and love to all his
creatures; “for remember,” said I, “he is the God of many,
not of Mussulmans alone; and that our father Abraham’s great and
implicit faith in the existence of that mercy, was what obtained
for him all the blessings God promised him.”
He sent us two very fine sheep, and we killed and feasted with
the rest. Early in the morning, the sheikh, with his sons and
all his court, mounted, according to custom, to welcome the Aid,
by praying outside the town, and firing and skirmishing on their
return: the assembly was not so large as on former occasions,
in consequence of the absence of the chiefs in Kanem; indeed every
thing went off extremely flat, owing to the defeat of the sheikh’s
people. Contrary to custom, no presents were made by him, and no
dresses were distributed to the slaves: instead of the glossy new
tobes which on former occasions shone on the persons of the footmen
who ran by the side of his horse, they were now clothed with torn,
discoloured ones, and every thing wore the appearance of gloom
and disgrace. On these days, the custom is also for the women to
assemble, dressed in all their finery, in the street, before the
doors of their huts, and scream a salutation to the passing chiefs:
it was one of the best parts of the ceremony, but this year it was
omitted. The sheikh, whose unamiable trait was, as I have before
observed, visiting the weaknesses of the female part of his subjects
with too great severity, had, during my absence, given an order
which would have disgraced the most absolute despot that ever sat
on a throne: the gates of his town were kept shut at daylight one
morning, and his emissaries despatched, who bound and brought before
him sixty women who had a bad reputation; five were sentenced to be
hanged in the public market, and four to be flogged; which latter
punishment was inflicted with such severity, that two expired under
the lash. Those who were doomed to death, after being dragged,
with their heads shaved, round the market on a public day, with a
rope round their necks, were then strangled, and thrown, by twos,
into a hole previously prepared, in the most barbarous manner. This
diabolical act, for it deserves no better name, armed all tongues
against him. The Bornouese, who are a humane and forgiving people,
shuddered at so much cruelty: and so much influence had the ladies
in general with their husbands, that more than a hundred families
quitted Kouka, (to which place they were before daily flocking),
to take up their abodes in other towns where this rigour did not
exist. In Kouka, they declared there was no living, where only to
be suspected was sufficient to be doomed to a cruel and ignominious
death; and where malicious spies converted “trifles light as air,
into confirmation strong.” Those who remained, though the women of
his particular attendants, refused flatly to scream him a welcome,
and the procession passed through the streets in silence.
Aug. 7.—I was now on the eve of departing for Kanem, to proceed
by Woodie to the north-east of the lake. Mr. Clapperton had been ill
with sore legs and an attack of dysentery, but was better. Mohammed
Bousgayey, an Arab, who left this place with Doctor Oudney and
Mr. Clapperton, came to my hut: he had gone on from Kano, with four
or five Arabs, to Yeouri and to Nyffé, and had stayed some time at a
place called Gusgey on the Quolla, two days west-south-west nearly,
from Yeouri. The Quolla he described to be here as wide as to the
market outside the walls and back, which must have been nearly two
miles: they were all kaffirs, he said, but not bad people. The sultan
Mahmoud had several hundred guns, and powder, which were brought from
the _bahr kebir_ (great water), and _arrack_ (rum), in plenty; which
was brought in large glass bottles. At eight days distance only from
Yeouri, large boats came to a place called Yearban, but it is not
on the _bahr kebir_. Katungah is the great port, which is at some
distance: to both of these places people he called Americans came;
they were white, and Christians: they always demand gum arabic and
male slaves, for which they will pay as high as sixty and seventy
dollars each. Sultan Mahmoud produced to him two books, which he said
were like mine; and told him, that a man, whose beard was white,
had lived nearly three years with no money; that he wished to go,
but had no means, and that he died. Bousgayey said the sultan had
offered him the book; which he refused, as he did not know what he
could do with it; but that now he was going back, and should bring it.
In the afternoon we went to pay our respects to the sheikh, in
honour of the feast. He received us but coolly: and I was scarcely
seated on the sand, when I saw near me a little shrief from Marocco,
named Hassein, who, though once or twice our friend, I was always in
fear of, being aware both of his cunning and his influence. Almost
the first question of the sheikh’s was, as to the distance of our
country from India: and when told it was four months by sea, he said,
“What could induce you to go so far from home—to find it out, and
fight with the people?” We replied, “that we had plenty of ships,
and were great lovers of discovery; that the French and the Dutch had
been there before us; and we were always jealous of our neighbours
doing more than ourselves.” “And now it is all yours,” said he,
“and governed by your laws!” Our reply was, “that we only kept
possession of the part near the sea—that their own laws were in
full force—but that even Mussulmans often preferred the English
laws to their own.” “Wonderful!” said he, “and you went
at first with only a few ships, as friends?” “We are friends
now,” said I, “and by trade have not only made ourselves rich,
but the natives also.” “By God!” said the Marroquin, “they
eat the whole country—they are no friends: these are the words of
truth.” We had then a few remarks (not good-natured ones) as to the
right of dictating to Algiers and the other Barbary powers. Algiers we
described as unfaithful to their word, and little better than pirates.
[Illustration: Sketch by Major Denham.
Engraved by E. Finden.
LANCERS OF THE SULTAN OF BEGHARMI.
_Published Feb. 1826, by John Murray, London._]
Aug. 11.—Soon after daylight, Karouash, with Hadgi Mustapha,
the chief of the Shouaas, and the sheikh’s two nephews, Hassein
and Kanemy, came to our huts. Hadgi Mustapha had been one of the
original four hundred who commenced the liberation of Bornou from the
Felatahs. They were attended by more than a dozen slaves, bearing
presents for us, for King George, and the consul at Tripoli. I
had applied for a _lebida_[54], after seeing those taken from the
Begharmis: the sheikh now sent a man, clothed in a yellow wadded
jacket, with a scarlet cap, and mounted on the horse taken from
the Begharmis, on which the sultan’s eldest son rode. He was one
of the finest horses I had seen; and covered with a scarlet cloth,
also wadded. “Every thing,” Hadgi Mustapha said, “except the
man, is to be taken to your great king.” He also brought me twelve
very beautiful tobes, of every manufacture, from Nyffé to Loggun and
Waday, four parrots, and a box of zibet. For the consul he also sent
six tobes, and a small box of zibet, worth thirty or forty dollars,
with two parrots.
August 13.—The long expected kafila arrived from Soudan, which
was a signal for our departure: they had been fifty days on the
road from Kano, in consequence of the waters; and had they been
delayed much longer, the season would have been so far advanced
as to have prevented the departure of all those merchants that had
many slaves: going, as they do, poor creatures, nearly naked, the
cold of Fezzan, in the winter season, kills them by hundreds. With
the Soudan kafila came Khalifa, a Moor and a fighi; he had been at
Saralo, as he called Sierra Leone, and desired to be brought to me,
as he knew English. He certainly knew enough to convince me of his
truth, when he asserted that he had met my countrymen. “Gun, cap,
and water!” he kept continually saying: and my Bornou friends were
not a little surprised when I told them it was the language of my
country. He spoke greatly of some person he called the Doctor[55],
whom he had seen at Bammakoo and Bunjalow, a good looking man, with
a red beard, and long projecting nose, with bad front teeth. He
gave away many things, wrote a great deal, and was much liked by
all the people. Two persons were with the Doctor, whom he believed
were French, and had come from Ender; one was called Gentleman, and
the other Fausta, or Forster; “but they held their heads down, and
did not talk to the people like the Doctor,” said Khalifa. “The
Doctor,” he said, “wanted to go to Sego, but the sultan would
not allow him to come to his country, and would not even look at the
presents he sent him, as he feared they had charms which would kill
him, either by the sight or smell. He, however, sent him slaves, and
horses, which he, the Doctor, also returned, saying that he wanted
nothing but to see the country and the rivers. The sultan of Sego
replied, he had heard that his (the doctor’s) king had water all
round his country, and he might go and look at that. Khalifa said the
Sego people were Kaffirs, and knew not God, therefore were afraid
of Christians; but the Moors knew them, and liked them. When the
present king of Sego’s father was alive, he, Khalifa, then a boy,
remembered Christians going to D’Jennie and Timboctoo, and hearing
that the Tuaricks killed them in their boat near Nyffé[56].”
On Monday, the 20th of the Mohamedan month _del Khadi_, and the
16th of August, we took our final leave of Kouka, and not without
many feelings of regret, so accustomed had we become, particularly
myself, to the people. In the morning I had taken leave of the
sheikh in his garden, when he had given me a letter to the king,
and a list of requests: he was all kindness, and said he had only
one wish, which was that I might find all my friends well, and once
more return to them. He gave me his hand at parting, which excited
an involuntary exclamation of astonishment from the six eunuchs and
Karouash, who were the only persons present.
I preceded the kafila for the following reason: I had, ever since
my return from Tangalia, determined to attempt the east side of
the Tchad, by Lari, previous to returning home. Many had been the
objections, many the reports of danger from the Waday people and
Amanook, who had now boldly forsaken the lake, and was encamped at
no great distance from Barca Gana, to whom he twice paid a night
visit, and had been beaten back. I, however, told the sheikh I could
take no present, or promise to the execution of any commission,
unless this duty was accomplished, or at least until I had done my
utmost, and that I would take care not to go into danger. Bellal,
my old companion, was once more appointed to attend me, and we moved
with two camels, lightly laden; for the more train, always the more
trouble and the more expense. All my friends then in Kouka mounted
to escort me from the town: the women assembled outside the gate,
and screamed an adieu; and I am persuaded our regrets were mutual.
About midnight, while we were all asleep at Dowergoo, a despatch
came to say, that the skin of a camelopard had been brought to Kouka,
which the sheikh had procured for me. Columbus, therefore, returned
to prepare it for preservation, while we moved on to N’Gortooah:
he came up again in the evening, and reported, that though small,
it was a fine specimen. On Wednesday we slept at Kaleeluwha, and
on the 23d came once more on the Yeou, now a considerable stream,
full of water, and running towards the Tchad, at the rate of three
miles an hour[57]. My feelings on seeing this river for a second
time were very different to what they had been when I first looked
on its waters. We then had an escort of two hundred men, and yet
could not feel ourselves in perfect safety one hundred yards from our
tents. Now I had only one attendant—the people about me were all
natives, and I wandered about the banks of the river with perfect
freedom, and slept with my tent door open, in as great security
as I could have done in any part of England, had I been obliged
so to travel. Other feelings also obtruded themselves; I was about
to return home, to see once more dear friends, and a dear country,
after an absence of nearly three years, on a duty full of perils and
difficulties: two out of four of my companions had fallen victims
to climate and disease, while those who remained were suffering,
in no small degree, sickness and debility from the same causes: I
was in health, and notwithstanding the many very trying situations,
in which we had all been placed, some of them of great vexation and
distress, yet had we been eminently successful.
In the afternoon Bellal accompanied me down the river, about nine
miles, where, increasing in width to about one hundred yards, it
flows into the Tchad, with a strong and deep current of water. On its
banks are five considerable villages of Kanemboos, called Ittaquoi,
Belagana, Afaden, Yeougana, and Boso. At Belagana, the sheikh has a
large inclosure of huts, within a wall, where he generally has from
five hundred to eight hundred slaves of both sexes, under the charge
of four eunuchs, who are employed in preparing cotton, and spinning
the linen (_gubbok_), of which the tobes are made.
The manner of fishing in the Yeou, a very considerable source of
commerce to the inhabitants of its banks, must not be omitted: dried
fish from the Yeou is carried to all the towns to the south-west,
quite as far as the hills; and at this season they are usually taken
in great numbers. The Bornouese make very good nets of a twine spun
from a perennial plant called _kalimboa_: the implements for fishing
are ingenious, though simple: two large gourds are nicely balanced,
and then fixed on a large stem of bamboo, at the extreme ends; the
fisherman launches this on the river, and places himself astride
between the gourds, and thus he floats with the stream, and throws
his net. He has also floats of cane, and weights, of small leathern
bags of sand: he beats up against the stream, paddling with his
hands and feet, previous to drawing the net, which, as it rises from
the water, he lays before him as he sits; and with a sort of mace,
which he carries for the purpose, the fish are stunned by a single
blow. His drag finished, the fish are taken out, and thrown into
the gourds, which are open at the top, to receive the produce of his
labour. These wells being filled, he steers for the shore, unloads,
and again returns to the sport.
25th.—At Woodie I met Barca Gana, Ali Gana, and Tirab, with their
forces, on their return from Kanem: they had been out, some of them
five months, had made the complete tour of the lake, and were in a
sad plight, with scarcely thirty horses left, having literally fought
their way: Amanook had twice attacked them, and had sent off all his
flocks and women to Begharmi, but had not gone himself, and they were
so reduced as not to be able to do any thing to prevent him. They were
so badly off for every thing, that they were obliged to come down on
Kanem for supplies: the people refused them any assistance, and after
being half starved, they were obliged to make a running fight of it,
and get home as well as they could. The Kanem people were all in a
state of mutiny, and the Dugganah had gone off towards Waday. This
was sorry news; Bellal wanted to turn back. I saw Barca Gana, who
said, “It is dangerous, but I think you may go on if you wish
it. I would give you eighteen men, but you are better without them:
they expect the sheikh, and going with Bellal, wanting but little,
and paying for that, for the crops have failed them, you will have
little to fear; but you cannot go beyond the Bornou Kanemboos with
less than one hundred men.”
[Illustration: From a Sketch by Major Denham.
Engraved by E. Finden.
MANNER OF FISHING IN THE RIVER YEOU.
_Published June 1826, by John Murray, London._]
With this advice I determined on going on, and after halting the whole
of Sunday, on the 27th I proceeded. Barca Gana had, on his return,
bivouacked in the wadey where once the Bahr-al-Ghazal ran from the
Tchad; the valley is now filled with trees and grass. This was the
fourth time Barca Gana had raised his tents in the same place[58],
as the sheikh had before informed me. This valley runs between
Kangara and N’Gussum, less than twenty miles from Tangalia. We were
overtaken by so dreadful a storm, that we halted, and pitched the
tent on a high sand-hill within five miles of N’Gygami. Near this
hill we had a beautiful view of the open lake, with several floating
islands, when the storm cleared away. The Biddomahs are constantly
landing hereabouts; and we met some poor people who had been robbed
of their whole flock of goats, with their daughter, only the day
before—indeed no single travellers can pass this road. Towards
evening, we saw their canoes in the offing; and below us, in the
low grounds, three Biddomahs making for the lake:—they saw us,
and quickened their pace. For safety we all slept outside the huts
of N’Gygami: this ground is the highest part of the borders of the
lake, and here deep water commences immediately off the shore, while,
in some parts, miles of marsh are to be waded through previous to
arriving at the lake. Tuesday, we made Lari, where we were to find
a Malem fighi, whom the sheikh had ordered to proceed with us.
Aug. 29.—Moved from Lari. Here we found four men, with a chief whom
Barca Gana had left at Kuskoua, returning, as the people would give
them no provisions. It was near sunset when we reached Zogany, thirty
miles; the country was quite a flat, covered with a plant resembling
a heath which I had seen nowhere else; and in many parts I observed
incrustations of trona. This heath is called kanuskin: the camels
eat it; and in the neighbourhood of trona it is generally found.
Aug. 30.—After a night of intolerable misery to us all, from flies
and mosquitoes, so bad as to knock up two of our blacks, we mounted
and advanced; and leaving our tents, for Bellal would not carry them
on, we proceeded to Garouah and Mabah;—which are full of people, and
though annually pillaged by Tuaricks and Tibboo Arabs, yet still they
will not quit their native soil. The character of the country here,
which is different to the south or west sides of the lake, extends to
Gala, where the land is again varied, and a little higher: for many
miles on this side we had one continued marsh and swamp. I was at
the northernmost part of the lake, and pursuing a course first to the
west, and then to the eastward of south, for five or six miles, nearly
up to the body of the horse in water, and with reeds and high grass
overtopping our heads, I at last got a sight of the open lake. We
disturbed hippopotami, buffaloes, enormous fish, and innumerable
hosts of insects. At the commencement of the water it had a taste
of trona, which, as we advanced, became gradually sweeter: indeed,
all the people say, when you ask if this water you drink so strong
of trona is the lake? _La! la! inki kora kora kitchi engobboo tilboo
baco_. (No! no! the water of the great lake is very sweet, no trona).
Completely fatigued, we returned to the village of Chirgoa, near
which our tents were pitched: this was a most distressing day, and
we had been on our horses nearly thirteen hours. Garouah is twelve
miles from Zogany, and Mabah twenty. We were some way in advance of
the latter, but to Kuskoua I could not induce my guide to venture;
and so many proofs had I seen, not only of his bravery, but his
desire to satisfy my curiosity, that I could not doubt his fears
were just. Notwithstanding our fatigue, no rest could we obtain, and
another night was passed in a state of suffering and distress that
defies description: the buzz from the insects was like the singing
of birds; the men and horses groaned with anguish; we absolutely
could not eat our paste and fat, from the agony we experienced in
uncovering our heads. We at last hit upon an expedient that gave us
a little relief: as they came at intervals, in swarms, we thought
they might also be driven off in the same quantities; and we found,
by occasionally lighting a line of fires with wet grass, to windward
of our tents, that the smoke carried off millions, and left us a
little at ease. I do not think our animals could have borne such
another night; their legs and necks were covered with blood, and
they could scarcely stand, from the state of irritation in which
they had been kept for so many hours.
On Friday we returned to Lari by the lower road, where there are
frequent large detached pieces of water, strongly impregnated with
trona. On the road, to-day, we fell in with a tribe of the Biddomah,
who had, during the last three months, taken up their abode on the
sheikh’s land, and asked for what was instantly granted them,
permission to remain. Internal wars cause these fallings off of
one tribe from another, which the sheikh encourages: only one of
their chiefs could ever be induced to proceed so far as Kouka. The
sheikh takes no notice, and suffers them to do as they please: he
sent them tobes, and a fighi, and desired they would learn to pray:
and they are now beginning, as my guide said, to have the fear of
God. They were the most savage beings I had seen in the shape of men,
except the Musgowy; and we had sat some time under a tree before they
would come near us. The men, until they are married, wear their hair,
and collect as many beads and ornaments as they can, which they wear
round their necks; their hair is long and plaited, or twisted in
knots; they have ear-rings also: and this collection of beads and
metal is always given to the wife on their marriage. The upper part
of the face is very flat, and the eye sunk; they have large mouths,
and long necks; a sulky, reserved look about them, any thing but
agreeable: they have no style of salutation like other negroes, who
greet strangers over and over again, sitting down by them:—these
stand up, leaning on a spear, and look steadfastly at you without
speaking. I gave a little boy some white beads, which were directly
tied round his neck, I suppose as the commencement of his marriage
portion. They, however, at length, produced some sour milk; and some
of them came round my horse when I mounted, and nodded their heads
at me when I rode off, which I returned, much to their amusement.
When we arrived at Lari, which was comparatively free from flies, the
horses lay down, and, stretching themselves out, fell asleep in a way,
and with an expression of enjoyment, I never saw animals do before,
and did not look for their nose-bags until after midnight. We here
found that one of Barca Gana’s people had the night before lost his
horse, which had been stolen by the Biddomahs we saw on the look out.
Kanem, the most persecuted and unfortunate of negro countries, was
daily becoming more miserable; they were pillaged alternately by the
Fezzaneers, the Tuaricks, and the Waday people. Between the latter
and the sheikh they hung for protection, and from neither could
they obtain what they sought: the country was becoming abandoned,
and the villages deserted, part taking refuge in Waday, and part in
the sheikh’s dominions: the land communication between Bornou and
Kanem was too difficult and distant, either by the south or north,
for the sheikh to render them any effectual support. An army almost
every year went to Kanem for this purpose, but they usually returned
with the loss of horses, camels, and men, and were seldom able much
to annoy their enemies, the Wadays. This year his expedition had
been upon a larger scale, and his losses were greater than on any
former occasion.
In consequence of the waters, which fill the rivers at this season,
the ford across the Shary had become impassable, and they were
therefore obliged to return home through Kanem. Not the least
assistance would any of the towns give them, except Gala, and a
more wretched state I never saw men in: some of the chiefs on foot,
without horses; and those who were mounted, bestriding sorry animals,
with torn appointments: they all said, fighting without the sheikh
was useless, as he alone could lead them to victory.
[Illustration: Drawn by Major Denham.
Engraved by E. Finden.
ENCAMPMENT NEAR WOODIE.
AND PART OF THE LAKE TCHAD.
_Published Feb. 1826, by John Murray, London._]
Sept. 3.—I had now been six days at Woodie, waiting the arrival
of my companions with our camels, and the kafila of merchants whom
we were to accompany to Fezzan. Woodie is no very pleasant place
of sojourn, as the Biddomah have a sort of agreement with the kaid
to be allowed to plunder all strangers and travellers, provided the
property of the inhabitants is respected. We were, however, told to
be on our guard, and not without reason. Our tents were pitched near
each other, and a look-out kept up the whole night, notwithstanding
which they paid us a visit, during a storm of thunder and rain, and
from the entrance of Bellal’s tent, only eight paces from my own,
stole both his horses. Although six or seven negroes were sleeping
quite close to them, they got completely off, and had an hour’s
start before even the loss was discovered. Bellal pursued them, with
about a dozen people, quite to the lake, tracing their footsteps in
the sand, which was not difficult after the rain; but finding here
that they had embarked, the pursuit was given up.
At length, however, on Tuesday the 14th, we had assembled our kafila,
and we moved on towards the desert: on the 22d of September, in the
afternoon, we halted half way to the well of Beere Kashifery.
Sept. 23.—We made the well soon after mid-day; and fortunately
for us we brought some water with us, for the power of our friend
Mina Tahr here began to appear. This well was guarded, and we were
told, that until the sheikh Mina appeared, not a drop was to be
drawn. It required some exertion of patience and forbearance, in a
sultry oppressive day, with the thermometer at 110° in the tent,
to be obliged to drink muddy water from goat skins, when a well of
the best water between Kouka and Bilma was under our feet: but we
were inured to hardships and contradictions, and submitted, I hope,
like good Christians. Towards evening the Tahr appeared on the hills
to the north-west, attended by his troop: he seemed vastly glad to
see us; said “the well was ours—that our water-skins should
be filled, and camels watered, before any body, and for nothing;
and then,” said he, “sultan George the Great must be obliged
to Mina Tahr, the wandering chief of Gunda, and that will give more
pleasure to Tahr’s heart than payment: and who knows,” said he,
“but when sultan George hears this, he may send me a sword?”
Sept. 24.—In consequence of the number of camels to be watered,
and the large flocks of the Tibboo, it was not until the evening
that our animals could drink; and even then we were almost obliged to
take possession of the well by force. Our old Maraboot was struck by
a spear, as well as our servants; and it was not until after I had
mounted a horse and repaired to the well myself, accompanied by the
Tahr, that we could complete this most important business of the day.
In the evening Tahr came for his present. I gave him a tobe from
Soudan, a red cap, and a turkodie: the tobes and cap he looked at,
and said, “Ah! this is very well for me; I am one, but my wives
are three:—what shall I do with one turkodie?” Tahr now began a
speech: he was greatly distressed that he had nothing to send sultan
George. “By the head of Mustapha!” said he, “I consider him as
much my master as the bashaw;—ay and more—for you say he sent you
to see me, which is more than the bashaw ever did. I can send him a
tiger-skin, and I will write him a letter—for Tahr’s enemies are
never quiet, and he has no time to kill ostriches now. The well Beere
Kashifery, whose waters are here like gold, and better than gold,
and all that Kashella Tahr and the Gunda Tibboos have to give, shall
always be, as long as he or his children govern, at the service of
sultan George Inglesi.” He now asked for water, and began washing
the ink from a paper which had previously been ornamented with a
charm, drinking the dirty water, and rubbing it over his head and
neck: when this was finished, he laid the paper in the sun; and I
was a little amused when I found, that it was on this dirty scrap
that he intended writing to king George.
Sept. 25.—In the afternoon of this day we left Beere Kashifery,
taking a very hearty leave of Tahr. In order to save my camels, who
had seventeen skins of water to carry in addition to their loads,
as we were to be four days on our road to Aghadem, I hired a maherhy
to carry two heavy boxes to Bilma, for seven dollars. The moon,
which was in its first quarter, assisted us after sunset, but we
were obliged to move on for at least two hours after she had sunk
quietly to rest. We halted for a few hours, at a spot called Geogo
Balwy (honey spot), and a little after midnight proceeded on our
dreary way. There was great difference of opinion as to our route,
which, probably, by following our own back bearings, we might have
found better ourselves: but we were not yet quite so bold in the
desert as on the main; and I insisted on the Mina Hamedee, the
guide whom the sheikh had given us, being allowed his own way, and
my confidence was not misplaced. By daylight on Sunday we discovered
the foot-marks of the camels and slaves of Hadge-Boo-Said, a Fezzan
merchant, who had absolutely been in the right track, but had turned
back, and gone southerly. Numbers now exclaimed that we were wrong:
there appeared, however, no sort of timidity about our guide; he
looked confident, and bore the abuse that was levelled at him on
all sides, with great coolness: and there was a sort of conscious
ability about him that determined me to rely completely on _his_
judgment alone. No man is ever afraid of doing what he knows he can
do well; and in most cases a sense of power gives confidence: so
it proved with my Tibboo. We continued travelling another night and
day in these most dreary wastes, with nothing but the wide expanse
of sand and sky to gaze upon.
On Monday the 27th of September, a little before noon, we observed
something in the distance, which had the appearance of a body of
men moving towards us; but from the effect of the mirage assuming
different shapes, and sometimes appearing twelve or fifteen feet
above the surface of the desert, the Arabs declared it to be a
Tuarick party on the forage, and all our followers loaded and
prepared for action. On their approach, however, we found to our
great joy that it was a kafila from Fezzan: they had been as much
alarmed at us as we at them, and were all formed, in front of their
camels several hundred yards, in extended order, as the Arabs always
fight: they gave us some Fezzan dates, which were a great luxury;
and some of the traders who were short of water exchanged a jar of
butter, worth at least two dollars, for every full skin they could so
purchase. They told us the road was perfectly safe, although their
fears of falling in with the Tuaricks had detained them seventy-two
days on the journey from Mourzuk.
It is scarcely possible to convey an idea of the sensations of all
parties on a meeting of this nature on the desert. The Arabs were
equally alive to these feelings as ourselves; and, in their usual
wild expressive manner, sang, for days after such a rencontre,
ballads descriptive of the event[59].
We halted at noon, at a place called Gassooma-foma. In the afternoon
we moved again; and the guides told me that the road was so difficult
that, until the moon fell, we should make the best of our way,
and then rest. On these occasions we pitched no tents, but laid
the boxes together; and, either with a little boiled kouskosou,
or still oftener without, soon forgot our fatigues in sleep. When
we saw the black ridge that extends along the wadey of Aghadem,
the negroes, female slaves, and followers, set up screams of joy,
and began dancing and singing with all their might. It was almost
noon when we got to the well, and several slaves, belonging to an
old Shouaa who was going to Hage, were speechless from want of water;
yet they ran several miles to reach the well, like things distracted,
with their mouths open, and eyes starting from their heads.
On the 2d of October we left Aghadem, and by the help of a blessed
moon we were enabled to travel until near midnight, without losing
our way. A very sharp storm of wind from the east obliged us to halt;
and we had scarcely time to shelter ourselves with the skins and
boxes, before it came on with most disagreeable force: this detained
us until daylight, when we rose from between the hillocks of sand
that had formed on each side of us in the night.
We had the satisfaction throughout our journey to find, that, young as
we were at desert travelling, yet we got on as well, if not better,
than our companions; and though children of the soil, they always
looked to us, instead of us to them, both for safety and protection,
as well as for the direction of the route. It was noon on Thursday
the 7th, when we made Zow, an oasis situated under some high black
sandstone hills, where there is good water and _ahgul_ in abundance
for the camels, who had scarcely broken their fast since leaving
Dibla. Zow is most appropriately named “difficult,” from the road
which leads to it—a frightful sandy waste of moveable sand hills,
exceeding fifty miles. Some little girls, and children of the kafila,
panting with thirst, augmented by fever and illness, were scarcely
able to creep along the deep sand: the whip shaken over the head urged
them on—for in justice it must be said, the Arabs use it but rarely
in any other way—and not to urge them on would be still more cruel,
for the resolution and courage of these poor things would never carry
them through; they would lie down, and if sleep once overcame them,
so as to be left behind, death would be inevitable.
Oct. 11.—We arrived at Bilma. Without the supply of dates, which are
procured here, kafilas would often suffer extreme hunger, so scarce
are provisions, and so difficult is the transport: all followers from
hence agree to have one meal per day of dates, and one of flour and
fat; while, previous to arriving at Bilma, they are obliged to have
two of flour and fat. Slaves of poor merchants will for twenty days
together be fed by a handful of dates, night and morning, and they
generally thrive well on this nourishing food.
Oct. 15.—We laid in a stock of dates for the next fourteen days,
and man and beast were nearly subsisted upon them: a camel-load is
worth from four to five dollars; they will, however, take camels’
flesh eagerly instead of money, or Soudan goods at one hundred per
cent. profit. Our tents were surrounded by daylight with women and
men; the former to sell us their commodities, and the latter to
look on.
Oct. 17.—We had another day of rest, and were pretty tranquil. The
women came in throngs to our tents, and were willing to sell us corn
and dates, for either dollars or Soudan tobes, at one hundred and
fifty per cent. profit: two lean goats they asked me four dollars
for; and for a sheep, six. A great deal of bustle was made about the
settlement of the dispute with the Mesurata Arabs, and the Tibboo:
“The Book” was to be referred to, but Hadge Mohammed Abedeen,
the brother of the kadi at Mourzuk, would not open the leaves until
the relations of the deceased swore to rest satisfied with his
decision. This preliminary being arranged on Monday morning, the
parties all assembled: the kadi, Hadge Ben Hamet, and Ben Taleb,
the chief merchants of our kafila, were present: they found,
by the Koran, that if any man lifts his hand higher than his
shoulder, in a menacing attitude, though he should not be armed,
the adversary is not to wait the falling of the blow, but may strike
even to death. The law was, of course, in favour of the Arab, as he
proved the Tibboo’s having his hand, armed with a spear, raised
above his head, when he shot him dead. On this being declared, the
Arabs ran about, throwing their guns over their heads, shouting and,
what we should call crowing, to such a degree, that I fully expected
the Tibboos would be aggravated to renew hostilities.
Oct. 25.—From hence we were to proceed by a different route to
that by which we went to Bornou: crossing, therefore, another part
of the range, we moved until night, and halted in what appeared to
us a beautiful oasis, under a ridge of dark sand hills. This spot of
dingy fertility extended several miles to the west, and afforded us
water, grass, and wood, for that and the two following days, which
were to be passed in deserts. A few miserable inhabitants had fixed
themselves here, for the sake of a small crop of dates, yielded by
a few palms: they were all anxious to exchange the produce of their
valley for a blue or a white shirt of the coarsest kind,—a luxury
they were the more in want of from possessing no other clothing. This
is by far the best road; soft sand gravel, instead of rough broken
stones; and the kafilas prefer it on account of the wells. The oasis
is called Seggedem. From hence, eight days’ distance, is a Tibboo
town, and by this road kafilas sometimes pass to Ghraat.
Oct. 26.—We left Seggedem after a blowing night, which either
overset the tents, or buried them several feet in the sand. Towards
evening we rested, and starting again at daylight, made the wells
of Izhya by noon next day.
From El Wahr to Meshroo are three very fatiguing days without water,
or a single vestige of verdure. We were not able to reach the well,
and halted short of the Beeban el Meshroo, the pass leading to the
well, nearly four miles. On Sunday, the 8th of November, we arrived
at the well,—watered our weary camels, and our more weary men,
and again pursued our route until night, when we pitched westward
of the well of Omhah; and after one more dreary day, at night
(Nov. 9th) we slept under the palm trees which surround Tegerhy,
the most miserable inhabited spot in Fezzan, nay, in the world,
I might almost say, and yet we hailed it with inexpressible joy,
after the pitiless deserts we had passed.
The fatigue and difficulty of a journey to Bornou is not to
be compared with a return to Fezzan: the nine days from Izhya
to Tegerhy, without either forage or wood, is distressing beyond
description, to both camels and men, at the end of such a journey
as this. The camels, already worn out by the heavy sand-hills,
have the stony desert to pass; the sharp points bruise their feet,
and they totter, and fall under their heavy loads: the people, too,
suffer severely from the scanty portion of provisions, mostly dates,
that can be brought on by these tired animals,—and altogether it is
nine days of great distress and difficulty. There is something about
El Wahr surpassing dreariness itself: the rocks are dark sandstone,
of the most gloomy and barren appearance; the wind whistles through
the narrow fissures, which disdain to afford nourishment even to a
single blade of wild grass; and as the traveller creeps under the
lowering crags, to take shelter for the night, stumbling at each
step over the skeleton of some starved human being, and searching
for level spots on the hard rock, on which to lay his wearied body,
he may fancy himself wandering in the wilds of desolation and despair.
On the day of our making El Wahr, and the two following days, camels
in numbers dropped and died, or were quickly killed, and the meat
brought on by the hungry slaves. Kafilas are obliged to rely on the
chance of Tibboos and Arabs from Mourzuk hearing of their having
passed the desert, and bringing them supplies; should these fail,
many poor creatures must fall a sacrifice for the salvation of the
rest. These bringers of supplies usually sell their dates and corn
to eager buyers, at about four times the price they could obtain
for them in Fezzan; besides which, the merchants gladly hire their
unburthened camels to quicken their passage to a better country.
A Tibboo trader, who was returning to his own country from Fezzan,
gave me a gratifying proof of the confidence he was willing to place
in the word of an Englishman. It was nearly night, and I was in
front of the camels: he had dates to sell, and mine were expended,
but I told him that my money was in my trunk, and that my camels
were too tired for me to unload them: “God bless you!” said he,
“why, I wish you would buy all I have, camels and all: I know
who the English are! Are they not almost Mislem, and people of one
word? Measure the dates, and go on:—pay the kaid at Mourzuk.”
We here voraciously bought up a few bad onions, to give a little
flavour to our insipid meal of flour and water; and soon after, the
kaid brought me a sheep, the only one in the town, which we cut up
and divided, so that we had a sumptuous meal about nine o’clock
in the evening.
On Sunday the 14th of November, by easy journeys we reached Gatrone,
which, before so miserable in our eyes, now really seemed a little
Paradise; and the food which the old hadge who governs there sent us,
of the same kind we before thought so unpalatable on our outward
voyage, now seemed delicious. I literally got up at daylight to
feast on a mess of hot broth and fresh bread, most highly peppered,
and made as good a meal as ever I did in my life.
At Gatrone, as well as at Tegerhy, our tents were pitched in a palm
grove, the trees shading us during the day from the sun-beams, and
at night from the easterly winds: the gentle moaning of the breeze
through its slowly-waving branches was to us a most pleasing novelty;
and the noble, nutritious, and productive palm, seemed in our eyes
fully to merit the beautiful lines of Abulfeda:
“The stately date, whose pliant head, crowned with pendent clusters,
languidly reclines like that of a beautiful woman overcome with
sleep.”—_Abulfeda Descr. Egypt, a Michaelis_, p. 6.
To do them justice, the Fezzan people seemed as glad we were come
back, as we were ourselves. “To go and come back from the black
country! Oh, wonderful!—you English have large hearts!—God bless
you!—the poor doctor to die too, so far from home!—Health to
your head! it was written he was to die, and you to come back.—God
is great!—and the young Rais Ali too! (Mr. Toole)—Ah! that was
written also:—but he was a nice man—so sweet spoken. Now you are
going home: well, good fortune attend you! How all your friends will
come out to meet you with fine clothes—and how much gunpowder they
will fire away!”
At the mosque of Sidi Bouchier the usual prayer was offered for
our safe arrival in our own country; and on the 21st of November,
Sunday, we made our entry into Mourzuk, and took possession of our
old habitation.
Nov. 21.—All welcomed our return: we had bowls of _bazeen_ and
_kouskosou_ night and morning, and visitors from daylight until
long after sunset, notwithstanding we had no tea, coffee, or sugar,
to regale them with, as on our former residence amongst them. The new
sultan, Sidi Hassein, who succeeded Mustapha, had only arrived the day
before us; and as he had entered in mourning on account of the death
of the bashaw’s wife, the Lilla Gibellia[60], no rejoicings were
allowed on the occasion: he however sent us two fat sheep, a large pot
of olives, and two sacks of wheat; we had therefore a little rejoicing
of our own. The two Lizaris, Mohammed and Yusuf, Captain Lyon’s
friends, were amongst the foremost to pay us attention, as well as
old Hadge Mahmoud, who exclaimed continually, “Thank God, you are
come back!—who would have thought it!—how great and good God is,
to protect such kaffirs as you are! Well! well! notwithstanding all
this, I love you all, though I believe it is _haram_ (sin).”
Though many degrees nearer our own fair and blue-eyed beauties
in complexion, when moderately cleansed and washed, yet no people
ever lost more by comparison than did the white ladies of Mourzuk,
with the black ones of Bornou and Soudan. That the latter were
“black, devilish black,” there is no denying; but their beautiful
forms, expressive eyes, pearly teeth, and excessive cleanliness,
rendered them far more pleasing than the dirty half-casts we were
now amongst. A single blue wrapper (though scarcely covering) gave
full liberty to their straight and well-grown limbs, not a little
strengthened, perhaps, by four or five daily immersions in cold
water; while the ladies of Mourzuk, wrapped in a woollen blanket,
with an under one of the same texture, seldom changed night or day,
until it drops off, or that they may be washed for their wedding;
hair clotted, and besmeared with sand, brown powder of cloves, and
other drugs, in order to give them the popular smell; their silver
ear-rings, and coral ornaments, all blackened by the perspiration
flowing from their anointed locks, are really such a bundle of filth,
that it is not without alarm that you see them approach towards you,
or disturb their garments in your apartments.
The bashaw was said to have had an engagement with the Arabs, who were
in rebellion against him, and to have defeated them; after which they
had fled all to the Gibel, which had been long the rendezvous of the
disaffected; we therefore determined on our immediate departure,
after having sold the six remaining camels, out of twenty-four,
which I had brought with me from Kouka, for twenty-one dollars—sore
backed miserables that they were! The Maherhies, though handsomer
and more fleet, do not bear fatigue like the Salamy or Tripoli camels.
On the 12th of December we were ready for our departure, and on
the 13th we took our leave, the sultan having given us an order,
or teskera, on all the towns of Fezzan, for every thing we might
stand in need of. The cold of Mourzuk had pinched us all terribly;
and notwithstanding we used an additional blanket, both day and night,
one of us had colds, and swelled necks, another ague, and a third,
pains in the limbs—all, I believe, principally from the chillness
of the air; yet the thermometer, at sunrise, was not lower than 42°
and 43°.
On the 18th we reached Sebha, and found our old friend, sheikh
Abdallah-ben-Shibel, whose hospitality we had before experienced;
with abundance of kouskousou and meat, with highly peppered broth,
prepared for us. The daughter of my friend Abdallah, who was now
married, and a mother, and to whom I had two years before given a
very simple medicine but once, which she was convinced had cured her
of the jaundice, sent me two very pretty straw fans for the flies;
they were made of the date leaf, in diamonds, coloured red, black,
and yellow; the red is produced by _foor_, or madder root; the yellow
with dried onion leaves, steeped in water; and the black by _nil_,
or indigo.
At Sebha, Timinhint, and Zeghren, we were fed with the best produce
of their _cuisine_. Omul Hena, by whom I was so much smitten on
my first visit to this place, was now, after a disappointment by
the death of her betrothed, with whom she had read the fatah just
before my last visit, only a wife of three days old. The best dish,
however, out of twenty which the town furnished, came from her; it was
brought separately, inclosed in a new basket of date leaves, which
I was desired to keep; and her old slave who brought it inquired,
“Whether I did not mean to go to her father’s house, and _salaam_,
salute, her mother?” I replied, “Certainly;” and just after dark
the same slave came to accompany me. We found the old lady sitting
over a handful of fire, with eyes still more sore, and person still
more neglected, than when I last saw her. She however hugged me most
cordially, for there was nobody present but ourselves: the fire was
blown up, and a bright flame produced, over which we sat down, while
she kept saying, or rather singing, “_Ash harlek? Ash ya barick-che
fennick?_”—“How are you? How do you find yourself? How is it
with you?” in the patois of the country, first saying something
in _Ertana_, which I did not understand, to the old slave; and I was
just regretting that I should go away without seeing Omul-hena, while
a sort of smile rested on the pallid features of my hostess, when in
rushed the subject of our conversation. I scarcely knew her at first,
by the dim light of the palm wood fire; she however threw off her
mantle, and, kissing my shoulder (an Arab mode of salutation), shook
my hand, while large tears rolled down her fine features. She said
“she was determined to see me, although her father had refused.”
The mother, it seems, had determined on gratifying her.
Omul-hena was now seventeen: she was handsomer than any thing I had
seen in Fezzan, and had on all her wedding ornaments: indeed, I should
have been a good deal agitated at her apparent great regard, had she
not almost instantly exclaimed, “Well! you must make haste; give
me what you have brought me! You know I am a woman now, and you must
give me something a great deal richer than you did before: besides, I
am Sidi Gunana’s son’s wife, who is a great man; and when he asks
me what the Christian gave me, let me be able to show him something
very handsome.” “What!” said I, “does Sidi Gunana know then
of your coming?” “To be sure,” said Omul-hena, “and sent
me: his father is a Maraboot, and told him you English were people
with great hearts and plenty of money, so I might come.” “Well,
then,” said I, “if that is the case, you can be in no hurry.”
She did not think so; and my little present was no sooner given, than
she hurried away, _saying_ she would return directly, but not keeping
her word. Well done, simplicity! thought I: well done unsophisticated
nature! no town-bred coquette could have played her part better.
After a day’s halt, on the 22d we moved to Omhul Abeed, distant
only a few miles, where water and wood are collected for the desert
between that place and Sockna, which usually, at this season, when
the days are short and nights cold, occupies five or six days.
Dec. 25.—On our fourth Christmas day in Africa, we came in the
evening to Temesheen, where, after the rains, a slight sprinkling
of wormwood, and a few other wild plants were to be seen, known only
to the Arabs, and which is all the produce that the most refreshing
showers can draw from this unproductive soil. We had here determined
on having our Christmas dinner, and we slaughtered a sheep we had
brought with us, for the purpose; but night came on, before we could
get up the tents, with a bleak north-wester; and as the day had
been a long and fatiguing one, our people were too tired to kill and
prepare the feast. My companions, however, were both something better:
Hillman had had no ague for two days; and we assembled in my tent,
shut up the door, and with, I trust, grateful and hopeful hearts,
toasted in brandy punch our dear friends at home, who we consoled
ourselves with the idea, were, comparatively, almost within hail.
The next day, before we had loaded our camels, a pelting rain came
on, with a beating cold wind from the north-west, which pinched
us severely; however, we started; but scarcely had we entered the
wadey, at the approach to which we had passed the night, than the
slaves kindled fires under the trees, round which, indeed, we all
took shelter: they, however, poor creatures, complained bitterly;
and as the camels had not eaten any thing for three days previous,
we determined on suffering them to enjoy such pasturage as the wadey
afforded, while we slaughtered our sheep, and kept the feast.
Every thing was so cold and damp, that the poor slaves, who
accompanied our kafila, half-clothed as they were, crowded round
the fires in preference to sleeping: they were, however, always gay
and lively on the march, when the warm sun and exercise had given
a little circulation to their blood; the Arabs, to do them justice,
fed them to their hearts’ content, and, even to this, we usually
added something.
Arrived at Sockna, I was lodged in the house of Hadge Mohammed
Boofarce, a place with four whitewashed walls and date beams; but
by the help of a brass pan, and a hole in the ground, I managed to
keep a pretty good fire, without much smoke. I had neither host nor
hostess. The house was in the charge of one Begharmi slave, who had
been twenty-four years in bondage: he was pleased greatly when he
found that I had been near his home, and the names of some of the
towns made him clap his hands with pleasure; but when I asked him
whether he should like to return, he had sense enough to answer,
“No! no! I am better where I am. I have no home now but this;
and what will my master’s children do without me? He is dead;
and his son is dead: and who will take care of the garden for his
wives and daughters, if Moussa goes?—No! he is a slave still,
and so much the better for him; his country is far off, and full
of enemies. Here he has a house, and plenty to eat, thank God! and
two months ago they gave him a wife, and kept his wedding for eight
days.” The siriah of a Sockna merchant, who had gone to Soudan,
leaving her pregnant, had, by becoming a mother, gained her freedom,
and taking Moussa for a husband, they were put in charge of his
mistress’s unoccupied house for a residence.
Jan. 5.—We left Sockna, passed El Hammam on the 6th, slept in
Wadey Orfilly, and on the morning after, Mr. Clapperton and myself
separated, as I wished to return by Ghirza, while he was rather
desirous of keeping the old road by Bonjem. A continuation of wadeys
furnished us at this time of the year with food for camels and horses;
and, close under low hills of magnesian limestone, at Jernaam,
we filled our water-skins for five days’ march.
[Illustration: From a Sketch by Major Denham.
Engraved by E. Finden.
GHIRZA.
SOUTH FACE OF BUILDING. No. 1.
_Published Feb. 1826, by John Murray, London._]
[Illustration: From a Sketch by Major Denham.
Etched by E. Finden.
GHIRZA.
FRIEZE ON THE WEST, EAST, & SOUTH FACES OF THE BUILDING. No. 1.
_Published Feb. 1826, by John Murray, London._]
Jan. 11.—A cold morning, with the thermometer at 42°, delayed
us till nine o’clock before we could make a start. We passed two
wadeys before coming to that where we were to halt: near one of these,
called Gidud, were heaps of stones, denoting the resting-place of
two Arabs, who had died in a skirmish, about two months before,
and some characters, which to me were hieroglyphics, were marked
out distinctly in the gravel near their graves; and upon inquiry,
I found they told the tale of death, and the tribes to which they
belonged. At sunset we halted at Bidud.
Nothing particular, till our arrival at Ghirza on the 13th. We
found here the remains of some buildings, said to be Roman, situated
about three miles west-south-west of the well, and which appeared
to me extremely interesting: there must have been several towns,
or probably one large city, which extended over some miles of
country, and the remains of four large buildings, which appear to
have been monuments or mausoleums, though two of them are nearly
razed to the earth. Those which I thought interesting and capable of
representation, I sketched: the architecture was rude, though various:
capitals, shafts, cornices, and entablatures, lay scattered about;
some of curious, if not admirable, workmanship.
[Illustration: No. 1.]
[Illustration: No. 2.]
[Illustration: No. 3.]
[Illustration: No. 4.]
The inscription[61], No. 1, was on a tablet fixed on the east face
of the building, of which the elevation gives the south side. The
entrance to all the buildings was from the east, and by fourteen steps
to the base of the upper range of pillars, now totally destroyed. The
other inscriptions were found on the loose fragments which lay
scattered around.
Jan. 17.—Moved along Shidaf, a beautiful wadey, extending ten miles
between limestone rocky hills, through which we passed. After this
we came to Hanafs, and halted fifteen miles to the east, where we
found some other ruins, of a character similar to those of Ghirza:
two inscriptions were perceivable, but perfectly unintelligible,
and obscured by time.
On the 20th we once more saw Benioleed, and on the 24th, passed
Melghra, and the plain of Tinsowa. Melghra was the place where we
had taken leave of Mr. Carstensen, the late Danish consul-general
at Tripoli, and many of our friends, who accompanied us thus far
on our departure for the interior; and our return to the same spot
was attended by the most pleasing recollections. Our friend, the
English consul, we also expected would have given us the meeting, as
he had despatched an Arab, who had encountered us the night before,
with the information that he was about to leave Tripoli a second
time to welcome our arrival.
On the day after, we reached a well, within ten miles of Tripoli;
and previous to arriving there, were met by two chaoushes of the
bashaw, with one of the consul’s servants: we found the consul’s
tents, but he had been obliged to return on business to the city;
and the satisfaction with which we devoured some anchovy toasts,
and washed them down with huge draughts of Marsala wine, in glass
tumblers—luxuries we had so long indeed been strangers to—was
quite indescribable. We slept soundly after our feast, and on the
26th of January, a few miles from our resting-place, were met by the
consul and his eldest son, whose satisfaction at our safe return
seemed equal to our own. We entered Tripoli the same day, where a
house had been provided for us. The consul sent out sheep, bread, and
fruit, to treat all our fellow-travellers; and cooking, and eating,
and singing, and feasting, were kept up by both slaves and Arabs,
until morning revealed to their happy eyes, and well filled bellies,
the “roseate east,” as a poet would say.
We had now no other duties to perform, except the providing for our
embarkation, with all our live animals, birds, and other specimens of
natural history, and settling with our faithful native attendants,
some of whom had left Tripoli with us, and returned in our service:
they had strong claims on our liberality, and had served us with
astonishing fidelity in many situations of great peril; and if either
here or in any foregoing part of this journal it may be thought that
I have spoken too favourably of the natives we were thrown amongst,
I can only answer, that I have described them as I found them,
hospitable, kind-hearted, honest, and liberal: to the latest hour
of my life I shall remember them with affectionate regard; and many
are the untutored children of nature in central Africa, who possess
feelings and principles that would do honour to the most civilized
Christian. A determination to be pleased, if possible, is the wisest
preparatory resolution that a traveller can make on quitting his
native shores, and the closer he adheres to it the better: few are
the situations from which some consolation cannot be derived with
this determination; and savage, indeed, must be that race of human
beings from whom amusement, if not interesting information, cannot
be collected.
Our long absence from civilized society appeared to have an effect
on our manner of speaking, of which, though we were unconscious
ourselves, occasioned the remarks of our friends: even in common
conversation, our tone was so loud as almost to alarm those we
addressed; and it was some weeks before we could moderate our voices
so as to bring them in harmony with the confined space in which we
were now exercising them.
Having made arrangements with the Captain of an Imperial brig,
which we found in the harbour of Tripoli, to convey us to Leghorn,
I applied, through the consul-general, to the bashaw for his seal
to the freedom of a Mandara boy, whose liberation from slavery
I had paid for some months before: the only legal way in which a
Christian can give freedom to a slave in a Mohammedan country. The
bashaw immediately complied with my request[62]; and, on Colonel
Warrington’s suggesting that the boy was anxious to accompany
me to England, he replied, with great good humour, “Let him go,
then; the English can do no wrong.” Indeed, on every occasion,
this prince endeavoured to convince us how rejoiced he was at our
success and safe return. He desired Colonel Warrington to give him
a fête, which request our hospitable and liberal consul complied
with, to the great satisfaction of the bashaw. The streets, leading
from the castle to the consulate, were illuminated, and arched over
with the branches of orange and lemon trees, thick with fruit. The
bashaw arrived at nine in the evening, accompanied by the whole of his
court in their splendid full dresses, and, seated on a sort of throne,
erected for him, under a canopy, gazed on the quadrilles and waltzes,
danced by the families of the European consuls, who were invited to
meet him, with the greatest pleasure. He took the English and the
Spanish consul-generals’ wives into the supper-room, with great
affability: and calling Captain Clapperton and myself towards him,
assured us he welcomed our return as heartily as our own king and
master in England could do. No act of the bashaw’s could show
greater confidence in the English, or more publicly demonstrate his
regard and friendship, than a visit of this nature.
Very shortly after this fête we embarked for Leghorn, and after
experiencing heavy and successive gales, from the north-west, which
obliged us to put into Elba, we arrived in twenty-eight days. Our
quarantine, though twenty-five days, quickly passed over. The miseries
of the Lazaretto were sadly complained of by our imprisoned brethren;
but the luxury of a house over our heads, refreshing Tuscan breezes,
and what appeared to us the perfect cookery of the little _taverna_,
attached to the Lazaretto, not to mention the bed, out of which
for two days we could scarcely persuade ourselves to stir, made
the time pass quickly and happily. On the 1st of May we arrived at
Florence, where we received the kindest attention and assistance
from Lord Burghersh. Our animals and baggage we had sent home by
sea, from Leghorn, in charge of William Hillman, our only surviving
companion. Captain Clapperton and myself crossed the Alps, and on
the 1st of June following, we reported our arrival in England to
Earl Bathurst, under whose auspices the mission had been sent out.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 48: Slaves worthy of being admitted into the seraglio.]
[Footnote 49: The best information I had ever procured of the road
eastward was from an old hadgi, named El Raschid, a native of the
city of Medina: he had been at Waday and at Sennaar, at different
periods of his life; and, amongst other things, described to me a
people east of Waday, whose greatest luxury was feeding on raw meat,
cut from the animal while warm, and full of blood: he had twice made
the attempt at getting home, but was each time robbed of every thing;
yet, strange to say, he was the only person I could find who was
willing to attempt it again.]
[Footnote 50: Sidi Barca, a holy man, was killed by the Biddomahs
at the mouth of this river; and from that moment the Bahr-el-Ghazal
began to dry, and the water ceased to flow. A Borgoo Tibboo told us
at Mourzuk, that the Bahr-el-Ghazal came originally from the south,
and received the waters of the Tchad; but that now it was completely
dried up, and bones of immense fish were constantly found in the dry
bed of the lake. His grandfather told him that the Bahr-el-Ghazal
was once a day’s journey broad.]
[Footnote 51: Dowera is the plural of dower, a circle.]
[Footnote 52: There is a prevailing report amongst the Shouaas that
from a mountain, south-east of Waday, called Tama, issues a stream,
which flows near Darfoor, and forms the Bahr el Abiad; and that
this water is the lake Tchad, which is driven by the eddies and
whirlpools of the centre of the lake into subterranean passages;
and after a course of many miles under ground, its progress being
arrested by rocks of granite, it rises between two hills, and pursues
its way eastward.]
[Footnote 53: During the whole of this time both ourselves and
our animals drank the lake water, which is sweet, and extremely
palatable.]
[Footnote 54: Horse covering.]
[Footnote 55: This was, no doubt, Doctor Docherd, sent by Major Gray.]
[Footnote 56: This man informed me that Timboctoo was now governed
by a woman, a princess, named Nanapery: this account was confirmed
by Mohammed D’Ghies, after my return to Tripoli, who showed
me two letters from Timboctoo. He also gave me some interesting
information about Wangara, a name I was surprised to find but few
Moors at all acquainted with. I met with two only, besides Khalifa,
who were able to explain the meaning of the word: they all agreed that
there was no such place; and I am inclined to believe the following
account will be found to be the truth. All gold countries, as well
as any people coming from the gold country, or bringing Goroo nuts,
are called _Wangara_. Bambara is called Wangara. All merchants from
Gonga, Gona-Beeron, Ashantee, Fullano, Mungagana, Summatigilia, Kom,
Terry, and Ganadogo, are called Wangara in Houssa; and all these
are gold countries.]
[Footnote 57: An intelligent Moor of Mesurata again told me, this
water was the same as the Nile; and when I asked him how that could
be, when he knew that we had traced it into the Tchad, which was
allowed to have no outlet, he replied, “Yes, but it is nevertheless
_Nile water-sweet_.” I had before been asked if the Nile was not in
England; and subsequently, when my knowledge of Arabic was somewhat
improved, I became satisfied that these questions had no reference
whatever to the Nile of Egypt, but merely meant running water, sweet
water, from its rarity highly esteemed by all desert travellers.]
[Footnote 58: Each time Barca Gana had encompassed the lake, he
had with him a force of from four hundred to eight hundred cavalry;
the passage of a river, therefore, or running stream, could never
have escaped his observation.]
[Footnote 59: The following lines may be taken as a sample, at least,
if not a literal translation, of their poetical sketches on these
ocean meetings.
THE Arab rests upon his gun,
His month of labour scarce begun
Of passing deserts drear:
Straining his eyes along the sand,
He fancies in the mist, a band
Of plunderers appear.
Again he thinks of home and tribe,
Of parents, and his Arab bride
Betrothed from earliest years:
Then high above his shaven head,
The gun that fifty had left dead
Rallies his comrade’s fears.
“Yeolad boo! yeolad boo!
“Sons of your fathers! which of you
“Will shun the fight and fly?”
They rush towards him, bright in arms,
Thus calming all his false alarms
By promising to die.
The sounds of men, as objects near,
Strike on the listening Arab’s ear
Laid close upon the sand:
He hears his native desert song,
And plunges forth his friends among
To seize the proffered hand.
Asalam? Asalam? from every mouth;
What cheer? what cheer? from north and south,
Each earnestly demands:
And dates and water, desert fare,
While all their news of home declare,
Are spread upon the sands.
But, soon! too soon! the kaf’las move;
They separate again, to prove
How desolate the land!
Yet, parting slow, each seeks delay,
And dreading still the close of day,
They press each other’s hand.]
[Footnote 60: She was taken prisoner in an expedition against the
people of Khalifa Belgassum, in the Gibel, by Bey Mohamed, who,
though in love with her himself, was obliged to give her up to his
father, who was struck with her _eyun kebir_ (large eyes). She also
loved the bey, but was obliged to give herself to the bashaw. This
is said to have been the cause of the first disagreement with his
father. She, by her influence, made Belgassum, her old master,
kaid over eight provinces.]
[Footnote 61: Dr. Young has been so good as to examine these
inscriptions, but has not succeeded in ascertaining their probable
date. He observes, that the two principal inscriptions, Nos. 1 and 2,
are clearly tributes of children to the memory of their parents. They
seem, from the legal expression “discussi ratiocinio,” to be
of the times of the lower empire, these words being applied in
the pandect to the settlement of accounts: they each allude to the
expenses of some public entertainment. The termination is remarkable
for the prayer, that their parents might revisit their descendants
on earth, and _make them like themselves_. The names seem to be
altogether barbarous: the second character, like a heart, is not
uncommonly found in inscriptions standing for a point.
No 1.
M. CHULLAM et * VARNYCHsan
PATER ET Mater MARCHI
NIMMIRE Et C. CURASAN
QUI EIS HAEC MEMORIAM
FECERUNT . DISCUSSIMUS
RATIOCINIO; AD
EA EROGATUM EST SUMI
praetER C . . . . . S IN
NUMMO * AEDILIS familIARES
NUMERO OVA lactiCINIA
OVINa . . . . . deCEM
ROSTRATAE . . . . . OPE
nAVIBUS E . . . . .
VISITENT Et taLES faciaNt.
No. 2 must be read nearly thus:—
M. FUDEI ET P. PHESULCUM
PATER ET MATER M. METUSANIS
QUI EIS HAEC MEMORIAM FECIT.
DISCUSSI RATIOCINIO; AD EA ERO-
GATUM EST SUMI . . . .
IN NUMMO * AEDILIS A FAMILIA
PRAETER CIBARIAS OMniBUS
FELICITER LEGAtas . VISITENT
FILIOS ET NEPOTES MEOS
ET TALES FACIANT.
No. 3.
MUNAS II ET MUMAI
filii MATRIS MNIMIRA
HAEDILEHS.
No. 4.
NHIABH JUre
JURANDO tene-
AMUR QUIriTUUM.]