Next morning we left Sofi, passed through the village of Tomat, and about midday pitched our camp five miles beyond this place opposite to the “mugra,” that is the junction of the Settite and Atbara rivers. The two streams at the point of meeting have a course about a quarter of a mile broad. The bed of the Atbara is flat and there is much shingle in it. The sandstone formation has come to an end, and the rocks which crop up here and there are of a granitic character. Very little water was flowing in either river, but a larger stream trickled in the Settite than in the other. We did not stir far from camp in the afternoon, but shot sand-grouse as they came to drink in the pools.
During the day we saw tracks of lions, hyenas, and monkeys—grivets and baboons. The soil and the vegetation by the river were such as we had seen on the previous marches. A lion came into the camp during the night. We were sleeping in the open and heard him sniffing round our beds. I sang out to Dupuis, and asked him what was making the noise. He struck a light, and the beast skulked off into the bush. My two friends snatched up their rifles and hurried off to see if he meant to attack the camels. That, no doubt, had been his errand, for he left us alone, though I saw his tracks within a yard of my bed next morning. The camels, as usual, were gathered in circles near the men’s fires. They were hobbled, and I heard them stamping quickly on the ground in their fright, making a strange pattering noise. I believe they only show fear in this way when they smell a lion.
The next day we marched to Khor Katout, a big ravine in the plain of the Atbara, which extends to the river. A hot wind had again arisen, and was carrying quantities of dust with it. The journey was exceedingly unpleasant, and coolness was nowhere to be found. Khor Katout is a well-known haunt of lions, and we heard them roaring in the night. On March 10 we arrived at the point where the road from Gedaref to Kassala joins that on which we were travelling. Here there is a “nocter”—a military post, where five soldiers are stationed. At this place we found a rest-hut, in which we took shelter till three in the afternoon, and then marched on till six, covering about nine miles in the three hours. Since we had left the course of the Atbara we had been obliged to send to the river for water. It was brought in the “fantassis.”[115] This necessity delayed us, and added to the petty troubles of the journey, but we expected to reach the river bed again on the next day. That night my sleeping-place in the open was within three or four yards of the track, and the moon was very bright. It was a most characteristic Eastern sight, when, about nine o’clock, some thirty camels passed along the route at the foot of my bed, slowly and silently. They carried no loads, and were probably returning from Kassala to Gedaref.
On the following day, as we marched, we saw spoor of lions and leopards among the mingled traces of hyenas, jackals, and many antelopes. We camped for the night at a very lonely spot on the Atbara which is called Khashim el Girba.[116] Here the river emerges from a narrow, deep, rocky gorge where the width of its course in places does not exceed one hundred and twenty feet. The steep sides have been smoothed by the terrific rush of water in the rainy season. One of the pools in the bed of this cataract is very large, and uniformly deep. I noticed that earth had lodged behind rocks which jutted from the sides of the gorge, and a growth of mimosa scrub had established itself even in the shallow soil on these ledges. There is no village at Khashim el Girba, but it is a recognized camping-ground. Beyond the narrows the Atbara broadens to a width of half a mile, and its course is divided by an island. Here, at the time of our visit, one could wade across the river bed through a stream which reached the ankles. The scene must be one of singular beauty and grandeur when the floods are coming down from Abyssinia. We heard a lion roaring at night, and there are numbers around this place, but they had plenty of game to prey upon and did not approach the camp.
On the morning of March 12 the Berthon boat was put together, and my companions took her, with some surveying gear, to the great pool in the gorge. I followed and carried my angling-tackle. We rowed about half a mile up the course of the river upon this stretch of water, and then came to the narrowest part of the bed of the rapids. Here a very large rock that has an accessible side juts out into the pool, in a most convenient position for survey work, and my companions began to take measurements, walking up a gravelly incline which seemed to have been placed there for the purpose. Their object was to mark out a gauge which would show the rise and fall of the river during the flood season in this gorge, where, of course, the movement is very clearly seen. My friends made the necessary marks in chalk at the time, and these were afterwards chiselled in the rock by a mason, who was sent down for the purpose. The gauge has since been connected by electric wire with Cairo, and since then in flood time the variations in the depth of the Atbara have been telegraphed every other day to the Irrigation Department in the capital. This has proved to be a very satisfactory arrangement. If an exceptionally heavy flood occurs, the news is sent to Cairo immediately; warnings are then dispatched up and down the Nile so that all concerned may be prepared for the consequent rise of the river, which will take place, say, in six weeks’ time. The Irrigation Department and the landowners look to their culverts and strengthen weak parts of the banks, and all is in readiness when the flood comes. Formerly it was the custom to patrol the riverside night and day when an unusual rush of water was expected, but the risk of disaster in Lower Egypt from this cause has been almost ended by the operation of the dam at Assuan and the precautions now taken.
I tried my luck in the pool, where I saw many huge fish, but they did not bite, though a number smelled at the spoon bait and some struck at it with their tails. I made attempts with other attractions, but the copper spoon appeared to allure them most. Then I cast the line into several pools in vain, but presently, in the shallower part of the big one, hooked a fish of about four pounds’ weight, which fought hard, lashing the water, and plunging and keeping the reel busy. It took me half an hour to play him into a shallow, and in the meanwhile many big fish came up to see what was making the disturbance.
I went back to the deeper part of the pool, and as soon as I had made a cast, hooked one, whose first tug showed that he was a prize worth landing. I feared that I should lose him, as my tackle was hardly strong enough for a heavy catch, so I made up my mind to play him very gently and tire him out, if possible. Away he went and round spun the wheel. He hid under a ledge of rock, and I wound it gently. This started him again, and now he showed sport without a break for twenty minutes. After that, to my surprise, I brought him up quite close to a shallow, and then I saw that I had hooked a real monster and had a good chance of landing him. But it would be useless to try to get him ashore without help, and I shouted and shouted again; for all the time he was making dashes and stopping in exhaustion, and I was playing him in nearer to the shallow. At last one of our boys came to aid me, and I saw that he was eager to help—but the first thing that he did was to rush into the water and grab my line! I yelled to him to leave it alone and strove to explain what he was to do. The next time my prize came into the shallow his strength had nearly failed him, for he rolled over and showed his white belly. It was a moment of excitement when the black fellow slipped into the water and tried to catch hold of the fish’s tail. I did nearly lose him then, but he was almost spent; and after a great deal of shouting I made the boy understand at last that he was to put his thumbs into the fish’s gills on each side. At first he thought I wanted him to put his fingers into its mouth, and was afraid. It took two men to lift my fish on to dry ground, and I could hardly believe that the tackle had held him; I was using a small trout-rod. From snout to tail he measured forty-five inches, and he had a girth of thirty inches. We judged his weight to be between fifty and sixty pounds. This species (lates niloticus) is called by the natives “el baggar” (the cow). It has been described by Sir S. Baker, who also published in “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia” a drawing of a fine specimen which he caught in the Atbara. My photograph shows that the fish which I landed does not altogether correspond to his description. It may be that the Soudanese name covers more than one species, or there may be considerable variation among members of the same species, but I am inclined to think that the illustration in Sir S. Baker’s book was prepared from an imperfect sketch.
During the morning we saw a troop of baboons. For a time they watched us. It was interesting to note their method of scouting. Here and there one would climb a tree, scan the surroundings sharply, and then descend quietly and join the main body. A few minutes later another would renew the observation from another tree. In this manner they keep a constant look-out. Mansfield Parkyns studied the habits of these creatures in Abyssinia and has given a most interesting account of them.
“The monkeys, especially the Cynocephali, who are astonishingly clever fellows, have their chiefs, whom they obey implicitly, and a regular system of tactics in war, pillaging expeditions, robbing cornfields, etc. These monkey forays are managed with the utmost regularity and precaution. A tribe, coming down to feed from their village on the mountain (usually a cleft in the face of some cliff), brings with it all its members, male and female, old and young. Some, the elders of the tribe, distinguishable by the quantity of mane which covers their shoulders, like a lion’s, take the lead, peering cautiously over each precipice before they descend, and climbing to the top of every rock or stone which may afford them a better view of the road before them. Others have their posts as scouts on the flanks or rear; and all fulfil their duties with the utmost vigilance, calling out at times, apparently to keep order among the motley pack which forms the main body, or to give notice of the approach of any real or imagined danger. Their tones of voice on these occasions are so distinctly varied that a person much accustomed to watch their movements will at length fancy—and perhaps with some truth—that he can understand their signals.
“The main body is composed of females, inexperienced males, and the young people of the tribe. Those of the females who have small children carry them on their back. Unlike the dignified march of the leaders, the rabble go along in a most disorderly manner, trotting on and chattering, without taking the least heed of anything, apparently confiding in the vigilance of their scouts. Here a few of the youth linger behind to pick the berries off some tree, but not long, for the rearguard coming up forces them to regain their places. There a matron pauses for a moment to suckle her offspring, and, not to lose time, dresses its hair while it is taking its meal. Another young lady, probably excited by jealousy or by some sneering look or word, pulls an ugly mouth at her neighbour, and then, uttering a shrill squeal highly expressive of rage, vindictively snatches at her rival’s leg with her hand, and gives her perhaps a bite in the hind-quarters. This provokes a retort, and a most unladylike quarrel ensues, till a loud bark of command from one of the chiefs calls them to order. A single cry of alarm makes them all halt and remain on the qui vive, till another bark in a different tone reassures them, and they then proceed on their march.