During the midday halts I had given up pitching my tent, for it usually took too long as so few men were available to do it; also it was decidedly hot in a tent, and I found it often cooler under a ledge of rock or mimosa bush when these were at hand. The nights were always pleasant, and sleeping in the open was very agreeable; indeed, it used to get quite cold at 2 or 3 a.m., and I found that my two thick blankets were quite insufficient to keep me warm. The variation in temperature was very great. Between midday and midnight there was frequently a drop of 60 degrees.
When marching by moonlight the scene was indescribably beautiful. The white sand of the “oueds” in which we were walking was lit up to look like a white sheet by the brilliant moonbeams; on all sides of us was this dazzling sheen spread over the surface of the ground, while in the distance one might have fancied there were the waters of a lake, so silvery crystal did the sand appear. The rocky hills on the east and west caught the glint of the moon’s rays, standing out sharply defined against the deep blue of the starlit sky. The jagged peaks, which were perhaps succeeded by a rugged ridge, running thus for miles into the far-off horizon, looked for all the world like the towers and crenellated battlements of some ancient fortress. The grandeur of the sight filled me with a sense of awe, and how many times did I not deplore my inability to sketch. I used to enjoy walking on these moonlight nights, gazing at this beautiful scene as we wended our way in silence through the desert—the stillness being unbroken even by the noise of a camel’s footfall on that sandy surface. On such a night the Sahara loses half its terrors. The arid nature of the landscape is concealed under the cloak of night, and softened by the gentle rays of the moon.
Even when I was walking it used to get quite chilly towards midnight, and I longed for the comforting warmth of my coat, which had been stolen some time previously.
It was about 10 p.m. on the 8th of May, the day that I left Kidal, that I first saw Halley’s Comet. For many nights subsequently it was visible in the eastern sky, a beautiful, bright, luminous body with a long tail, like a streak of fire, stretching for some distance behind it. What millions of people in the world must have been watching it about this time, although I doubt if many had the opportunity of seeing it from the Sahara.
On the 12th of May we were at the wells of Abeibera, when two men, with faces concealed in “lithams,” rode up on camels. They had the appearance of having journeyed far, and it is an unusual thing to encounter strangers at a desert well, so that I sent Mahomed to inquire their business and whence they came. The guide came back in a great state of excitement to say these people were traders from the Oasis of Touat in the north, and were now on their way to Kidal. His excitement was chiefly caused by the fact that he knew the leader of the caravan. The latter, who was an Arab, came up to salute me presently. He had lost several camels on the way on account of the excessive heat, but his route had lain considerably to the west of the direction we should take, so he could not give any information on the state of the wells we should pass. He had halted his caravan some distance from Abeibera, and was sending in his camels to water the following day. He was a very weather-beaten desert man, was this trader. I suppose he must have been about forty years of age, although he looked more like fifty, so tanned by exposure and lined was his face. His caravan was laden with dates, and he was going to exchange these for sheep and ostrich feathers. They would probably stay at Kidal till September before returning to the Touat.
The arrival of the Touat party was the signal for much tea-drinking. The Arab in the desert is extremely fond of tea, which he drinks with a great deal of sugar and, of course, without milk. Mahomed generally made his tea in the English fashion, but the usual manner amongst Arabs is to put the tea, which is very strong and green, into a saucepan and stew it. The tea is thus allowed to stew and simmer for about twenty minutes. The result is a very bitter, and to my mind unpleasant, tasting concoction, which has a very upsetting effect on the nerves.
One virtue possessed by these desert people is that they do not drink alcohol, nor do they, as a rule, smoke. They have wonderful powers of endurance, existing on a mere handful of dates as their daily ration, and drinking nothing but water or tea. Moreover, they drink very little water. Frequently an Arab will be quite satisfied after a long hot march to wash his mouth out with a small quantity and drink nothing at all.
While tea-drinking and merriment was going on by my little camp, a party of Ifora Tuaregs arrived with their flocks of sheep to water at the well. Accompanying these men there were also a number of camels, so that the scene at the well was an unusually animated one for the Sahara. I tried in vain to purchase a sheep, or even a little milk, from the Tuaregs, but nothing would induce them to part with either. I showed them one by one my articles of merchandise, but they would not be tempted. First the salt was exposed to view, and they were told they could have a large lump, which was really worth three times the sheep, but they refused to look at it, with a fine display of scorn. I next produced a tempting bait of “guinée,” but this likewise was ineffective, although they did show a mild interest in the stuff. When, however, my last remaining head of tobacco was laid out to view, I thought that at last I had caught my fish, and it only required a little careful playing before it could be landed. Their eyes glistened at the sight of the tobacco, and I heard many whispered exclamations of excitement. In the end I am sorry to say it resulted in disappointment. They went away muttering something to the effect that they would rather keep the sheep than take what was offered in exchange.
Money has no value with the Tuaregs. Any trade is always done by barter, and the chief articles of barter are salt and “guinée,” but, in any case, they are difficult people with whom to drive a bargain, and it is rarely that a European can induce them to part with anything.
In this part of Adrar, where wells are not more than two days’ march apart, the Iforas possess donkeys. These donkeys are most wonderfully enduring little beasts. They are trained to go two or even three days without drinking, and exist on what herbs or grass they find by the way as they march.