We left at length our camping-ground in Tághajít, and soon passed
Khweldi’s encampment, which was just about to break up.
Rocky ground, overtopped by higher mountain-masses or by detached peaks,
and hollows overgrown with rich vegetation, and preserving for a longer
or shorter time the regular form of valleys, succeed by turns, and
constitute the predominant feature of the country of Asben. But instead
of the fresh green pasture which had delighted and cheered us in some of
the northern valleys, the herbage in some of those which we passed to-
day was quite dry.
Early in the afternoon we encamped in the valley Imenán[98], a little
outside the line of herbage and trees, on an open spot at the southern
foot of a low rocky eminence. The valley, overgrown as it was with large
talha-trees and the oat-grass called bú-rékkeba, of tall, luxuriant
growth, was pleasant, and invited us to repose. But before sunset our
tranquillity was greatly disturbed by the appearance of five of our
well-known marauding companions mounted on camels, and leading six
others. They dismounted within less than a pistol-shot from our tents,
and with wild ferocious laughter were discussing their projects with the
Azkár in our caravan.
I could scarcely suppress a laugh when several of the Tinýlkum came and
brought us the ironical assurance that there was now perfect security,
and that we might indulge in sound sleep. Others came with the less
agreeable, but truer warning, that we ought not to sleep that night. The
greatest alarm and excitement soon spread through the caravan. Later in
the evening, while our benevolent guests were devouring their supper,
Mohammed el Túnsi called me and Overweg aside, and informed us that we
were threatened with great danger indeed, these Hogár, as he called
them, having brought a letter from Nakhnúkhen, authorizing them to
collect people in the territory of the Kél-owí, and there to despatch us
in such a way that not even a trace of us should be found, but not to
touch us so long as we were within the confines of the Azkár.
I was convinced that this account, so far as it regarded Nakhnúkhen, was
an absurd fiction of our persecutors; and I tried to persuade our
servant to this effect. When he returned from us to the caravan, a
council of war was held, and a resolution passed, that if a number of
from twenty to thirty people came to attack us they would undertake to
defend us, but if we should be threatened by a more numerous host they
would try to make a compromise by yielding up a part of our goods. In
consequence of this resolution, all possible warlike preparations were
made once more, and Bóro delivered another speech; but it seemed rather
irreconcilable with such a state of things, that while we, as well as
the Tinýlkum, brought all our camels close to our tents at an early
hour, the Kél-owí left theirs out the whole night. Perhaps, being
natives of the country, they did not expect that the freebooters would
seize their animals.
Be this as it may, great anxiety arose when early in the morning it was
found that the camels were gone; and when day broke, our guests of last
night, who had stolen away before midnight, were seen riding down from
the rocky ridge on the south, and with a commanding air calling the
principal men of the caravan to a council. Then followed the scenes
which Mr. Richardson has so graphically described.
I will only mention that Bóro Serki-n-turáwa, sword in hand, led us on
with great energy. He called me to keep close to him; and I think that
now (when we had atoned for the neglect with which he had been treated
by us, by assuring him that we were convinced of his high position and
influence in the country) he had the honest intention to protect us. Of
the Tinýlkum only our faithful Músa and the amiable young Slimán adhered
to us, and, of the other people, the Tawáti and Mohammed e’ Sfaksi,
although the latter trembled with fear, and was as pale as death; Yusuf
Mukni remained behind. Fárreji on this occasion behaved with great
courage, and bravely challenged the enemy. What frightened the latter
most were the bayonets on our guns, as they saw that, after having
received our fire, they would not yet have done with us, but would still
have a weapon to encounter at least as formidable as their own spears.
As soon as the enemy had protested that he was only come against us as
Christians, all sympathy for us ceased in the caravan. All expected that
we would become Moslemín without great difficulty; and our servant
Mohammed, when we rejected this condition as an impossibility,
immediately relapsed into his ordinary impudence, laughing in our faces
because, forsooth, we were so absurd as still to think of some other
expedient. This clever but spoiled youngster was a protégé of the
British consulate in Tunis.
At length all seemed to be settled. The whole host of the enemy, besides
its rich booty, had been treated with an enormous quantity of mohamsa;
and we had repeatedly been assured that now we might be certain of
reaching the chief Ánnur’s residence without any further disturbance,
when the little Ánnur, a man of honest but mild character, came to beg
us most earnestly to be on our guard, lest behind the rocks and ridges
there might still be some persons in ambush. At length we left this
inhospitable place; but we were far from being at ease, for it was clear
that there was still a cloud on the horizon, which might easily gather
to another storm.
After a short march we encamped in a small valley without pitching our
tents. The Merábet who had accompanied and sanctioned the expedition
against us was now in our company; and that was thought to be the best
means of preventing any further molestation. This man, as I made out
afterwards, was no other than Ibrahím Aghá-batúre (the son of Háj
Beshír, a well-known and influential person settled in Ferwán, or
Iferwán), who, in consequence of these proceedings, was afterwards
punished severely by the sultan of Ágades. With Aghá-batúre himself I
met accidentally at a later period, in 1853, near Zinder, when he was
greatly astonished to see me still alive, notwithstanding all the
hardships I had gone through. Bóro, who passed the evening with him in
reading the Kurán, treated him hospitably—with Mr. Richardson’s mohamsa.
[Sidenote: Monday, August 26th.]
After a march of three miles and a half, having ascended a little, we
obtained a clear view of the great mountain-mass which, lying between
Tídik on the north and Tintagh-odé on the west, seems not to be marked
with a collective proper name, although it is very often called by the
people Mount Absen.[99] But I cannot say whether this name, which is the
old Góber name for the whole country called by the Berbers Aïr, belonged
originally only to these mountains, or whether it is now given to them
merely on account of their being the conspicuous elevation of the
country so-named, to people coming from the north; for this, according
to the unanimous statement of the Kél-owí, is the frontier of Sudán, to
which neither Tághajít nor even Tídik belongs. The Tawárek, it would
seem, have no indigenous proper name for Sudán (properly Beled e’ sudán)
or Negroland; most of them call it Agús (the south). Nevertheless Tekrúr
seems to be an ancient Libyan name for Negroland.
A remarkable peak called Téngik or Tímge towers over this mountain-mass,
being, according to the intelligent old chief Ánnur (who ought to be
well acquainted with his own country), the most elevated point in the
whole country of Aïr. Unfortunately our situation in the country was
such that we could not think of exploring this very interesting northern
barrier, which must be supposed to possess many beautiful glens and
valleys.
But we were still at some distance from these picturesque mountains, and
had to cross a very rugged and dreary waste, where, however, we caught
sight of the first ostrich as yet seen on our journey. We encamped at
length in a shallow valley devoid of any interesting features.
During the night, while I was on the first watch, walking round the
encampment of the caravan, it struck me that at one end of it, beyond
the Kél-owí, a small party was separately encamped. When I went there
the first time, all was quiet; but a little after eleven o’clock (for in
general, on such a journey, everyone lies down at an early hour),
hearing a noise on that side, and turning thither, I saw two armed
Tawárek saddle their mehára, and make off in the gloom of night. From
this circumstance I concluded that something was still going on against
us; but as it appeared useless to make an alarm, I only took the
precaution to put Overweg, who succeeded me on the watch, upon his
guard.
[Sidenote: Tuesday, August 27th.]
We started at a very early hour; but fortunately the moonlight was so
clear and beautiful that I was not interrupted for a moment in marking
down all the features of the country—at least along our route, for our
situation was now too precarious to allow of our observing angles to fix
the exact position of mountains lying at some distance from us.
The road in general continued rugged for the first six miles, and formed
at times very difficult passes; but, notwithstanding these obstacles,
the whole caravan kept as close together as possible, and so frustrated
the plans of our persecutors, who, as we concluded from the appearance
of several Mehára in the distance, intended to attack us on the road, if
occasion offered. There are two roads, the easternmost of which passes
further on through a remarkable gorge in the mountains, which we had for
a long time ahead of us. Here, where we turned off with a westerly
deviation, beautiful white marble, but slightly weather-worn on the
surface, appeared between the nodules of granite and gneiss, while on
our right we had a rocky ridge called Itsa, the crest of which was
indented in a most remarkable way. Further on, where for a while we
entered on a gravelly soil, the whole ground was covered with fresh
footsteps of camels and men; and there was not the least doubt that
another host was gathering against us.
Mount Kadamméllet with its tapering double peak, at a greater distance
in the west, formed an interesting object, while the country was
gradually improving. While turning round the lower offshoots of the
large mountain-mass which we had now approached, we entered a rather
narrow but very rich valley adorned with most luxuriant talha-trees
completely enwrapped and bound together by creepers, while the ground
was richly clothed with herbage. This is the valley of Tídik; the
village of that name, which is situated in a recess of the mountains on
our left, remained invisible. It is said to consist of huts formed of a
kind of long dry grass, and therefore makes some approach to the fashion
of Sudán; these huts are called tághamt, or táramt, by the Southern
Imóshagh. But at present the village was desolate, all the inhabitants,
the Kél-tídik (people of Tídik) having gone for a while to the fine
valleys in the west, which appear to be richer than those to the east.
[Illustration]
Further on we crossed the bed of a considerable torrent, the valley
terminating in a narrow passage which, though generally considered as
the very entrance into the region of Sudán, led us once more into a
desolate rocky district, at times widening to dry hollows. Here Mount
Kadamméllet, of which only the double peak had been previously visible,
exhibited to us its ample flanks. The country became so extremely rugged
that we advanced but slowly; and having here received distinct
information which fully confirmed our apprehension of another predatory
expedition against us, we marched in order of battle. Thus we reached a
pond of rain-water in the narrow rugged hollow Tároï[100], where we
filled our water-bags. We found here several donkeys of a remarkably
fine breed, belonging to the men who had brought us the news.
[Illustration]
The country beyond this place became more interesting, and even
picturesque at times, several fine glens descending one after the other
from the beautifully-indented mountains on our left, which now rose into
full view, as the off-shoots had gradually receded.
We were only about eight miles from Selúfiet, where we might expect to
be tolerably safe; and we had not the least doubt that we were to sleep
there, when suddenly, before noon, our old Azkár mádogu Awed el Khér
turned off the road to the right, and chose the camping-ground at the
border of a broad valley richly overgrown with herbage. As if moved by
supernatural agency, and in ominous silence, the whole caravan followed;
not a word was spoken.
It was then evident that we were to pass through another ordeal, which,
according to all appearance, would be of a more serious kind than that
we had already undergone. How this plot was laid is rather mysterious;
and it can be explained only by supposing that a diabolical conspiracy
was entered into by the various individuals of our caravan. Some
certainly were in the secret; but Ánnur, not less certainly, was sincere
in our interest, and wished us to get through safely. But the turbulent
state of the country did not allow this weak, unenergetic man to attain
his object. Blackmail had been levied upon us by the frontier-tribes;
here was another strong party to be satisfied, that of the Merábetín or
Aníslimen, who, enjoying great influence in the country, were in a
certain degree opposed to the paramount authority of the old chief Ánnur
in Tintéllust; and this man, who alone had power to check the turbulent
spirit of these wild and lawless tribes, was laid up with sickness. In
Ágades there was no sultan, and several parties still stood in
opposition to each other, while by the great expedition against the
Welád Slimán, all the warlike passions of the people had been awakened,
and their cupidity and greediness for booty and rapine excited to the
utmost pitch. All these circumstances must be borne in mind, in order to
form a right view of the manner in which we were sacrificed.
The whole affair had a very solemn appearance from the beginning; and it
was apparent that this time there were really other motives in view
besides that of robbing us. Some of our companions evidently thought
that here, at such a distance from our homes and our brethren in faith,
we might yield to a more serious attack upon our religion, and so far
were sincerely interested in the success of the proceeding; but whether
they had any accurate idea of the fate that awaited us, whether we
should retain our property and be allowed to proceed, I cannot say. But
it is probable that the fanatics thought little of our future destiny;
and it is absurd to imagine that, if we had changed our religion as we
would a suit of clothes, we should have thereby escaped absolute ruin.
Our people, who well knew what was going on, desired us to pitch only a
single tent for all three of us, and not to leave it, even though a
great many people should collect about us. The excitement and anxiety of
our friend Ánnur had reached the highest pitch; and Bóro was writing
letter after letter. Though a great number of Merábetín had collected at
an early hour, and a host of other people arrived before sunset, the
storm did not break out; but as soon as all the people of our caravan,
arranged in a long line close to our tent, under the guidance of the
most respected of the Merábetín as Imám, had finished their Mughreb
prayers, the calm was at an end, and the scene which followed was awful.
Our own people were so firmly convinced that, as we stoutly refused to
change our religion, though only for a day or two, we should immediately
suffer death, that our servant Mohammed, as well as Mukni, requested us
most urgently to testify, in writing, that they were innocent of our
blood. Mr. Richardson himself was far from being sure that the sheikhs
did not mean exactly what they said. Our servants, and the chiefs of the
caravan, had left us with the plain declaration that nothing less than
certain death awaited us; and we were sitting silently in the tent, with
the inspiring consciousness of going to our fate in a manner worthy
alike of our religion and of the nation in whose name we were travelling
among these barbarous tribes, when Mr. Richardson interrupted the
silence which prevailed, with these words:—“Let us talk a little. We
must die; what is the use of sitting so mute?” For some minutes death
seemed really to hover over our heads; but the awful moment passed by.
We had been discussing Mr. Richardson’s last propositions for an attempt
to escape with our lives, when, as a forerunner of the official
messenger, the benevolent and kind-hearted Slimán rushed into our tent,
and with the most sincere sympathy stammered out the few words, “You are
not to die.”
The amount of the spoil taken from us was regulated by the sum which we
had paid to our Kél-owí escort, the party concerned presuming that they
had just the same demands upon us as our companions. The principal, if
not the only, actors in this affair were the Merábetín; and Ánnur the
chief of Tin-téllust afterwards stated to us that it was to them we had
to attribute all our losses and mishaps. There was also just at this
period a young sheríf from Medína at Tin-tagh-odé, with whom we
afterwards came into intimate relations, and who confessed to us that he
had contributed his part to excite the hatred of the people against the
Christian intruders. Experienced travellers have very truly remarked
that this sort of sherífs are at the bottom of every intrigue. To the
honour of Bóro Serki-n-turáwa, I have to state that he was ashamed of
the whole affair, and tried to protect us to the best of his power,
although in the beginning he had certainly done all that he could to
bring us into difficulties.
It was one of the defects of the expedition, that our merchandise,
instead of comprising a few valuable things, was for the most part
composed of worthless bulky objects, and that it made all the people
believe that we were carrying with us enormous wealth, while the whole
value of our things scarcely amounted to two hundred pounds. We had
besides about ten large iron cases filled with dry biscuit, but which
all the ignorant people believed to be crammed with money. The
consequence was that the next morning, when all the claims had at length
been settled, and we wanted to move on, there was still great danger
that the rabble, which had not yet dispersed, would fall upon the rest
of our luggage; and we were greatly obliged to the Sfaksi, who not only
passed some of our luggage as his own, but also dashed to pieces one of
the iron cases, when, to the astonishment of the simple people, instead
of heaps of dollars, a dry and tasteless sort of bread came forth from
the strong inclosure.
Meanwhile the persecuted Christians had made off, accompanied by some of
the Kél-owí; and at length the whole caravan collected together. The
valley was here very beautiful, and having crossed some smaller hollows,
we reached the fine valley of Selúfiet, rich in trees and bushes, but
without herbage; while at the distance of less than a mile on our left,
the high peak of the Tímge stood erect. Towards the west the valley
forms a deep gap behind a projecting mass of granite blocks; and it was
here that I met again my old acquaintance from the Sʿaid and Nubia, the
dúm-tree or _Cucifera Thebaïca_, here called gáriba, after the Háusa
name góreba. From the Kél-owí I could not learn the proper Berber name
of this tree[101]; but the Western Imóshagh call it akóf. Even the
_Capparis sodata_ seems to be called, by the Berber conquerors of this
country, only by the Háusa name abísga, while their western brethren
call it téshak. Besides the _Cucifera_, or fan-palm, there were here
also a few isolated specimens of the date-palm.
The village of Selúfiet itself, consisting of sixty or seventy grass
huts of peculiar shape, lies on the southern side of a broad valley
running here from east to west and richly overgrown with górebas,
abísgas, and talha-trees, but without any grass, for which the ground
seems too elevated and stony. Our camping-ground also was of this bare
character, and not at all pleasing; it was protected in the rear by
large buttresses of rock.
We had not yet enjoyed much tranquillity and security; and we here felt
its want the more keenly as, our camel-drivers having been hired only as
far as this place, we had henceforth to take charge of all our things
ourselves. A large mob of lawless people came about us in the course of
the night, howling like hungry jackals; and we were obliged to assure
them, by frequent firing, that we were on the watch. We had been obliged
to leave our camels to the care of the Kél-owí; but the freebooters
having succeeded in dispersing the camels in every direction, our
friends were unable in the evening to collect either their own animals
or ours, and in the night they were all driven away, as we were told, by
the Merábetín themselves who so repeatedly assured us of their
protection.
In the letters which we sent to Europe during our next day’s halt in
this place, by a caravan of Arabs and Kél-owí, the largest part of which
was already in advance, we were unable to give a perfectly satisfactory
account of our progress; nevertheless we had made a great step in
advance, and were justified in hoping that we should be able to overcome
whatever difficulties might still await us, and the more so as we were
now able to place ourselves in direct communication with the chief of
Tintéllust, from whom we might soon expect to receive an escort.
[Sidenote: Thursday, August 29th.]
Some of the stolen camels having been recovered, though fifteen were
still wanting, we were enabled to move from this uncomfortable place the
next day, leaving behind us, however, the boat and some other things,
which were valueless to any but ourselves.
Pleased as we were with our onward movement, we were still more cheered
when we observed in the fine valley, which here seems to bear the name
Érasa, or rather Érazar[102], some small fields with a fresh green crop
of negro millet—a delicious sight to travellers from the desert, and the
best assurance that we had entered cultivable regions. The fields or
gardens were watered by means of a kind of khattára of very simple
construction,—a simple pole with a longer cross pole, to which the
bucket is fastened. A little further on, the whole valley was clothed
with fine wide-spreading bushes of the abísga or _Capparis_; but it soon
narrowed, while we marched straight upon the high pointed peak
overtowering Tin-tagh-odé, which forms an interesting object. The valley
of Selúfiet seems to have no connection with that of the latter place;
at least, the principal branch, along which our route lay, was entirely
separated from it by rocky ground. Here a broad gap dividing the
mountain-mass allows a peep into the glens formed by the several ridges
of which it consists, and which seem to rise to greater elevation as
they recede. The slope is rather precipitous; and the general elevation
of this mountain-mass seems scarcely less than 3300 feet above the
bottom of the valley, or about 5000 feet above the level of the sea.
[Illustration]
We soon descended again from the rocky ground into a hollow plain richly
clothed with vegetation, where, besides the abísga, the tunfáfia or
_Asclepias gigantea_, which we had entirely lost sight of since leaving
Égeri, appeared in great abundance. Here also was a new plant which we
had not seen before—the “állwot,” with large succulent leaves and a
pretty violet flower. The camels devoured it most eagerly, and, in the
whole district of Aïr, preferred it to any other kind of food. It has a
great resemblance to the poisonous damankádda, which in Sudán is often
the cause of dangerous disease, and even of death, to the camel.