As I sailed away I returned the salute with my pistols, and the soldiers fired a parting volley after me for good luck on the voyage, but so recklessly that I heard the sharp whistle of the bullets quite close to the vessel. I felt more grateful to the Bey for this courtesy than for his kindness to myself. But Berber was soon left behind; for the wind was fair, and bore me southward, deeper into Africa.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE ETHIOPIAN NILE.
Fortunate Travel—The America—Ethiopian Scenery—The Atbara River—Damer—A Melon Patch—Agriculture—The Inhabitants—Change of Scenery—The First Hippopotamus—Crocodiles—Effect of My Map—The Raïs and Sailors—Arabs in Ethiopia—Ornamental Scars—Beshir—The Slave Bakhita—We Approach Meroë.
“Fair is that land as evening skies,
And cool—though in the depth it lies
Of burning Africa.”—Wordsworth.
The voyage from Berber to Khartoum was another link in my chain of fortunate travel The Ethiopian Nile seemed to me more beautiful than the Egyptian; at least, the vegetation was richer, the air milder and sweeter, the water purer, and to crown all, the north-wind unfailing. Day and night there was a fresh, steady breeze, carrying us smoothly against the current, at the precise rate of speed which is most pleasant in a sailing craft—three to four miles an hour. The temperature was that of an American June, the nights deliciously mild and sweet, and the full moon shone with a splendor unknown in northern latitudes. I was in perfect health of body, and suffered no apprehension or anxiety for the future to disturb my happy frame of mind.
El Mekheyref looked very picturesque in the soft clear light of the last afternoon hour, as I sailed away from it. The Bey’s mansion and the mosque rose conspicuously above the long lines of clay walls, and groups of luxuriant date-trees in the gardens supplied the place of minarets and spires. Both shores, above the city, were in a high state of cultivation, and I passed many thriving villages before dusk. Even under the moon, the corn-fields on either hand were green and bright. I was installed in a temporary cabin, formed of my tent-canvas, stretched over a frame of palm-sticks, erected on the narrow poop-deck. Achmet and Ali took possession of the hold, which they occupied as kitchen and store-room. The raïs, sailors, and the two beautiful sheep which the Bey gave me, were grouped on the forecastle. On this first evening, the men, fatigued by their extra labors on my account, were silent, and I was left to the full enjoyment of the scene. The waves rippled pleasantly against the prow of the America; the frogs and crickets kept up a concert along the shore, and the zikzak, or crocodile-bird, uttered his sharp, twittering note at intervals. Hours passed thus, before I was willing to close my eyes.
The landscapes next morning were still more beautiful. The Nile was as broad as in Lower Egypt, flowing between banks of the most brilliant green. Long groves of palms behind the shore, shut out from view the desert tracts beyond, and my voyage all day was a panorama of the richest summer scenery. Early in the forenoon I passed the mouth of the Atbara, the ancient Astaboras, and the first tributary stream which the traveller meets on his journey from the Mediterranean. Its breadth is about one-third that of the main river, but the volume of water must be in a much smaller proportion. The water is a clear, bright green, and its junction with the darker Nile is distinctly marked. I could look up the Atbara for about a mile, to where it curved out of sight between high green banks covered with flowering mimosas. It was a charming piece of river scenery, and I longed to follow the stream upward through the wild domains of the Hallengas and Hadendoas, through the forests and jungles of Takka and Schangalla, to where, an impetuous torrent, it foams through the Alpine highlands of Samen, under the eternal snows of Abba-Jaret and Amba-Hai. In Abyssinia it bears the name of Tacazze, but afterwards through the greater part of its course, is called the Atbara (and the country it waters, Dar Atbara), except at its junction with the Nile, where the natives name it El-bahr Mogran.