“Arrived at the cornfields, the scouts take their position on the eminences all round, while the remainder of the tribe collect provision with the utmost expedition, filling their cheek-pouches as full as they can hold, and then tucking the heads of corn under their armpits. Now, unless there be a partition of the collected spoil, how do the scouts feed? for I have watched them several times, and never observed them to quit for a moment their post of duty till it was time for the tribe to return, or till some indication of danger induced them to take flight. They show also the same sagacity in searching for water, discovering at once the places where it is most readily found in the sand, and then digging for it with their hands, just as men would, relieving one another in the work if the quantity of sand to be removed be considerable.”[117]
In the afternoon Crawley shot a wild pig. I walked to the river again, being charmed by the lovely scenery, and as I approached saw numbers of crocodiles scuttle into the water. None was of great size. I doubt if any region in the world affords more varied sport than the valley of the Atbara. The climate is perfectly healthy in the dry season.
On March 13 we struck our camp in the afternoon and soon met the first European whom we had encountered since we left Gallabat. He was a British officer on the way from Kassala to Gedaref, and he made mention of the slave-raids which had taken place since we left the latter place. It seemed likely that the Arab Battalion would be kept busy in holding the marauders in check. In the course of our march we crossed the Atbara, at a point where it is about four hundred yards in breadth. Water that reached our ankles was trickling among the shingle in places. At sundown we arrived at a camping-ground called Fashur, and halted for the night. Our dinner was “bully beef” and pickles—neither a luxurious nor a prudent meal. We were now suffering from heat eczema, which is most irritating in the cool of the night. The baying of a hyena kept me awake for hours, and a bed in the Soudan is not a pleasant place for one who lies on it with an itching skin and listens to that dismal noise.
Our camp at Fashur was very hot and dusty. In the afternoon of the next day we started for a march of twenty-two miles, which would take us half the way from the Atbara to Kassala. We turned our backs to the river and crossed a plain covered by dried grass and mimosa scrub, which is probably a swamp during the rainy season. Our tents were pitched on the open, level ground after an exhausting journey, at the halting-place ordinarily used by those who follow this track. There were no habitations, and we saw none on the road. During the night a detachment of the Arab Battalion passed our encampment, on its way to protect villages against slave-raiders.
On March 15 we arrived at the River Gash just outside Kassala. Its course here lies in a flat, sandy bed, which was quite dry. During the journey—eighteen and a half miles—we saw eight ostriches. The Gash, beyond Kassala, splits into numerous small streams which, even in the rainy season, sink into the ground and disappear completely. Sir Samuel Baker has given an account of the river at that time of the year, which shows its importance in relation to produce and water-supply in the district.
“As we approached within about twenty-five miles of Kassala, I remarked that the country on our left was in many places flooded; the Arabs, who had hitherto been encamped in this neighbourhood during the dry season were migrating to other localities in the neighbourhood of Soojalup and Gozerajup with their vast herds of camels and goats. As rain had not fallen in sufficient quantity to account for the flood, I was informed that it was due to the river Gash, or Mareb, which, flowing from Abyssinia, passed beneath the walls of Kassala, and then divided into innumerable ramifications; it was eventually lost, and disappeared in the porous soil, after having flooded a large extent of country. This cause accounted for the never-failing wells at Soojalup—doubtless a substratum of clay prevented the total escape of the water, which remained at a depth of forty feet from the surface. The large tract of country thus annually flooded by the river Gash is rendered extremely fruitful, and is the resort of both the Hadendowa and the Hallonga Arabs during the dry season, who cultivate large quantities of dhurra and other grain. Unfortunately, in these climates, fertility of soil is generally combined with unhealthiness, and the commencement of the rainy season is the signal for fevers and other maladies.”[118]
KASSALA HILL AND MARKET-PLACE.
See [p. 205.]
We were now close to the curious and isolated eminence called Kassala Hill, which stands within the border-line of the colony of Eritrea. We had seen this towering landmark when we were more than forty miles distant from it, and a whole day’s travelling had seemed to bring us no nearer to it. It offers a splendid sight in the desert, when the setting sun shines on the bare pile of red granite. I was told that in the days when the Italians occupied Kassala, Alpine climbers, with elaborate paraphernalia, had attempted the ascent, but failed in all cases to reach the summit. There is a superstition among the natives that any one who tries to scale the heights will die shortly afterwards, and this belief has been confirmed among them by the death of Colonel Collinson, a former Moudir of the town, who made the last endeavour of which I heard, and succumbed to fever six months afterwards.