See [p. 190]
My companions returned half an hour after midday. They had had difficulty in finding the course of the Atbara, and their camels had been on the march eight hours when they reached it at a gorge in coarse sandstone rock, where the river forces its way through a narrow cleft about twenty metres wide, between cliffs rising vertically from a profoundly deep pool. There they determined to encamp and spend the next day in attempting to find the junction of the rivers. To the great disappointment of all, they failed to achieve their purpose. The country in which they were is extremely wild. A lion had killed one of their camels in broad daylight. The boy who was in charge of the beasts while they browsed saw the lion creep from the thick undergrowth, spring upon the camel and crush its skull with one blow of the paw. He screamed, and the lion walked off into the scrub in which it had been concealed. The other camels were terrified, and would certainly have bolted in a panic if they had not been hobbled. At night my friends heard hyenas running within a dozen yards of their beds.
They had been much interested in watching the huge flocks of small birds of the linnet kind which assembled half an hour before sunset and went to drink together in the pools of the Atbara. They come with an undulating flight, and, small as they are, the rushing of the wind as they beat the air makes a noise like thunder, and their numbers darken the sky. The weight of the throngs of them which alight at a time bends down the ends of the overhanging branches and twigs to the level of the water. I had seen these flocks many times, and the cunning trick which the crocodile uses in preying upon them. This was a point of Soudanese natural history which did not escape the observation of Sir Samuel Baker.
“Few creatures are so sly and wary as the crocodile. I watch them continually as they attack the dense flocks of small birds that throng the bushes at the water’s edge. These birds are perfectly aware of the danger, and they fly from the attack if possible. The crocodile then quietly and innocently lies upon the surface, as though it had appeared quite by an accident; it thus attracts the attention of the birds, and it slowly sails away to a considerable distance, exposed to their view. The birds, thus beguiled by the deceiver, believe that the danger is removed, and they again flock to the bush, and once more dip their thirsty beaks into the stream. Thus absorbed in slaking their thirst, they do not observe that their enemy is no longer on the surface. A sudden splash, followed by a huge pair of jaws beneath the bush that engulfs some dozens of victims, is the signal unexpectedly given of the crocodile’s return, who has thus slily dived, and hastened under cover of water to his victims. I have seen the crocodiles repeat this manœuvre constantly, they deceive by a feigned retreat, and then attack from below.”[113]
These birds fall a prey not only to crocodiles but to large fish—of what species I am not sure—which rise at them as other kinds rise at flies and snap them off the twigs. Besides, kites scout about the outskirts of the flocks as they fly and pick up the stragglers.
In this part of the country we saw baobab trees only on the banks of the river. Elsewhere, the trees are all mimosas and the undergrowth of the same order.
On the 4th we marched over a dead level of cotton soil to an abandoned village. We had to carry drinking-water, for the well at this place had been filled up by the Dervishes. I have very little doubt that this region is full of malaria in the wet season. Our camp was at the foot of a rocky hill, on which we found abundance of guinea-fowl when we took out our guns late in the afternoon. On the following day we saw herd after herd of ariel as we marched. They were extremely tame, and we passed within ten yards of some of them. The track which we followed brought us to the Atbara again, at the hamlet of Aradeeb. This village was poverty-stricken and almost in a state of famine. The aphis[114] had blighted the entire dhurra crop of the inhabitants. I could not discover how the people lived, but they seemed to bear their trouble uncomplainingly, and here as elsewhere appeared to be sincerely thankful for the peace and safety which the Anglo-Egyptian rule secures to them. In every village to which we came we heard the same remark—“Miri quies,” “the Government is good.” I believe that this expression of opinion is perfectly sincere. If so, it is one of the greatest of the many great triumphs of British administration.
The course of the Atbara is much narrower here than at the point where we had left it, and the pools are deeper. They are not connected by a current in the dry season. I judged that the stream would be from twenty-five to thirty feet deep when the floods are at their height. The river runs, with a shingly bed, through a curious formation of coarse, gritty sandstone, which forms fine cliffs and numerous rocky bars and barriers. The sandstone stratum extends to about two-thirds of the height of the ravines, and the upper third consists of the usual black-cotton soil.
When the heat of the day was over I caught a couple of fish of about three pounds and four pounds weight. They showed some sport and made very good eating. In the evening we should have rested in perfect contentment, after enjoying the luxury of a bath, if insects of various sorts had not swarmed upon us incessantly, crawling and biting. Dupuis gave the sheikh of the village two sheep which we had brought from Zegi. They suffered severely from the heat, and it seemed cruel to drive them further. Besides, we were glad to add something to the store of the villagers in their time of scarcity.
On March 6 we quitted Aradeeb. The old sheikh came to our camp to see us start, and brought us hot coffee in which we ceremonially drank “peace to the village.” Throughout our journey on this day we followed the course of the river, constantly crossing gorges and khors. We reached Sofi at midday. This is the large village near which Sir Samuel Baker dwelt for five months in 1861. He has given a very full and most interesting account of the surrounding district in “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia.” There are rest-huts built of straw at Sofi, and we were glad to take refuge in them, though the temperature within when we arrived was 107° F. However, we were able to remove our helmets, and this we could not do in our tents in the daytime as the sun penetrated the canvas. At night the temperature was 98° F., and a hot wind was blowing strongly. Towards evening I had taken my rod to a pool in the river, but this unpleasant breeze had by that time ruffled the surface smartly, and I got no sport. I think the fish lie quietly in shelter during these storms and do not feed.