On the day after, the sheikh sent us word that Hadgi Ali Boo-Khaloom was on his way from Kano, and within two or three days of Kouka: this was the most gratifying intelligence that could have reached us, as our funds were all but exhausted, and we lived entirely on the provisions furnished us by the sheikh, with the exception of a little milk and a few fowls, which we purchased. On the 21st he arrived, and very much altered in appearance for the worse, as well as most of the people who had accompanied him; the Fezzaneers had all suffered exceedingly from the ague and fever, which disorders had carried off a greater number of the Fezzan and Tripoli merchants than any preceding year. The sheikh appeared pleased at Hadgi Ali’s return, said he hoped all would be now soon arranged, and that the courier from Tripoli would not long delay making his appearance; he had calculated upon his returning by the Aid-Kebir, and his non-arrival gave him uneasiness on many accounts. Private information, it was said, had by several channels reached the sheikh, that the bashaw had it in contemplation to send an expedition for the purpose of taking possession of Bornou, under the joint command of Mukni the late, and Mustapha the present, sultan of Fezzan: this intelligence was also accompanied by an assurance, that while the English remained he was safe. Scarcely any line of policy could be more injurious to the interests of the bashaw of Tripoli, or his subjects, than a measure of this nature. He obtained slaves almost exclusively through the medium of the sheikh’s territory, which, since he had held the reins of government, was sufficiently safe for travellers, to induce merchants with large capitals for this country to proceed by way of Bornou to Soudan. The numbers of kafilas between that country and Fezzan had, within the last five years, greatly exceeded any former period; and in an equal proportion did the respectability of those traders who now accompanied them exceed that of the merchants previously in the habit of passing through Bornou. By an intercourse with these travellers, a great variety of merchandise was brought into the interior—the ideas of the natives became enlarged, and, consequently, their desires increased. Trade was, in fact, but just beginning to be prosecuted with vigour by the inhabitants of eastern Soudan. European goods of all descriptions, used by the Soudanees, were becoming every day in greater request, and the whole of their country might, by the bashaw’s constantly keeping up an amicable understanding with the sheikh, have been supplied exclusively by the Tripoli merchants.
With a knowledge of these facts, it was almost impossible to believe that the reports of the bashaw of Tripoli’s intended expedition could have any real foundation; yet the report, credited as it was by the majority of the Bornou people, was of itself sufficient to excite in us excessive alarm, both for our own safety, as well as for the success of our mission. The sheikh caused it to be understood, both here and at Angornou, that the kafila, about to leave Kouka for Fezzan, would be the last in the present state of affairs; at the same time, he relaxed nothing of his personal kindness and attention to us.
The violent rains and stormy nights continued, as did our sickness and loss of appetite. Hillman and myself were suffering constantly from a prickly heat upon the skin, which was almost insufferable during the day, and prevented our sleeping at night. All the quadrupeds, as well as bipeds, transplanted from the countries bordering upon the great ocean, appeared to suffer alike. Within the last ten days, three of our camels, Doctor Oudney’s mule and his horse, the last of our Tripoli animals but one, had died, and the remaining three camels, out of the nineteen we brought here, were turned into the inclosure to take their chance, while the man was discharged who had hitherto been paid for taking care of them.
August 27.—These things were cheerless and discouraging indeed. We had still excessive rains; and notwithstanding the great power of the sun for some hours in the middle of the day, so damp was the air, that for several days together my blankets were never dry, the rain always coming through the roof of the cousie (hut) at night.
I had been for some time waiting for a favourable day to accompany two or three Shouaas of Tirab to the Tchad, in search of buffalos: they went several times, and usually killed one, although I never could persuade them to bring me the head: some of the meat, and a piece of the skin, was all they would load their horses with for so many miles. Their manner of killing these animals is curious, and rather perilous—they chase them in the swamps, where they now feed, in preference to nearer the lake, and as their horses are trained so as to go quite close to them as they run, the rider is enabled to get his foot well fixed on the buffalo’s back: with singular skill, he then strikes, just behind the animal’s shoulder, one or two spears, if he can place them; pierced with these, the animal is able to run but a short distance, then, with the assistance of his companion, but frequently alone, he dismounts and despatches his prey: it sometimes happens, that the buffalo, by quickly turning his head before they strike, oversets both horse and rider. A Shouaa friend of mine had his horse completely ripped open, and killed on the spot, only a few days since, by the sudden twist which the animal gave his head, catching the horse with his pointed horn. Yesterday I was again disappointed, from the badness of the weather: three Shouaas went, and narrowly escaped being caught by the Biddomahs—as two hundred boats made their appearance at different places on the banks of the Tchad, carrying from ten to fifteen men each, and the sportsmen were very nearly caught by the crews of two that came near the town of Koua. News came in this morning that they had carried off upwards of thirty persons from the neighbourhood of Woodie, and amongst them the nephew of the sheikh-el-Blad (governor of the town). On these occasions, when any person of rank gets into their hands, they demand a ransom of from two to three thousand bullocks, or a proportionate number of slaves. No sultan has any power over these islanders; they will pay no tribute to any one, nor submit to any prescribed government: some of them lately paid a visit to the sheikh, and although they brought him only a few slaves, that they had stolen from the Begharmi side of the water, yet he received them kindly, and gave them fine tobes and red caps. Their visit was principally to see if the reports of the sheikh’s power were true; but notwithstanding their kind reception, on returning they carried off three girls from within ten miles of Kouka. These islands lie on the eastern side of the Tchad, and on embarking from the west, they described the voyage as five days of open sea previous to arriving at the islands, which are numerous; the two largest are named Koorie and Sayah. They have a language of their own, although resembling that of Kanem. Their arms are spears and shields, and they fight with every body around them, Waday, Begharmi, and Bornou. They believe in a divine power, which rules every thing, but are not Musselmans. They have a strong arm, they say, and a cunning head, instead of a large country, and much cattle; therefore they must take from those who are richer than themselves. The Bornou people say, “the waters are theirs; what can we do?” It is said they have nearly one thousand large canoes. They are not a sanguinary or cruel people; and when prisoners are taken in battle and wounded, they do not kill, but cure them; and if no ransom is offered, they give them wives, and they remain as free as themselves.
Aug. 30.—Hadgi Ali Boo-Khaloom had been now returned more than a week, and nothing satisfactory had ever been extracted from him as to the money left in his brother’s hands. I had great fears of his honesty from the first, and urged the necessity of our taking some decided measures with him. We accordingly summoned him to appear before the sheikh; the result of which was, our failure for want of sufficient documents, and the tergiversation of the Arabs. The official document of this trial, translated from the Arabic, will be found in the Appendix.
We received visits of condolence from several of our Bornou friends, who were all extravagant in their abuse of Hadgi Ali. “Are these your Mourzuk friends,” said they, “who were to assist you with every thing? Why, this is robbing you. However, they called God to witness to a lie, and they will die soon: only wait a day or two.”
Sept. 1.—Dr. Oudney now cupped himself on the chest for the second time, and found some little relief. Feeling that our situation required an appearance of spirit and determination, I sent for Abdal Wahad, an Arab of Zehren, distantly related to Boo-Khaloom, and to whom, on two occasions of distress, I had been kind, and upbraided him with his falsehood and ingratitude; nor was my remonstrance altogether without effect. He acknowledged that “his heart had been too big for his stomach ever since he left the palace: that his eyes had been dim, and he had enjoyed no rest; for,” said he, “I swore to myself to be as faithful to you as to a brother!” “All this is very fine,” said I; “but what proof will you give of this remorse?” “Every proof,” he replied; “Hadgi Ali will come this very day and acknowledge the debt—that must be the consequence. I have been to the sheikh, and said how you had assisted me; and that I had sworn, and could not see you wronged.” Even as Abdal Wahad predicted, so it happened. Karouash came in the course of the day to say that Abdal Wahad had been at his house, and told him the debt was just, and that he had reported the conversation to the sheikh. The sheikh’s answer was, “He is quite right; after what the rais Khaleel said, every one would have known where the justice lay; for the English have not many words, but they are true; and the Arabs, you know, will lie a little (kidip shouie shouie).”
In the evening Hadgi Ali came himself; he made, however, but a blundering excuse, saying he had never inquired into it—did not even know whether we gave any money or not to Boo-Khaloom; but that now he knew, and God forbid he should ever be otherwise than friendly with the English, and that not only two, but five thousand dollars were at our service. All this, however, ended in his begging us to wait until he had sent off his kafila to Mourzuk, and that then he would try to give us eight hundred or one thousand dollars in tobes, or gubbuk[36], for not ten dollars in money had he; and the rest he hoped we would wait for, until he sent to Soudan. Unsatisfactory as this was, we thought it better not to make objections, merely saying that we were without money, and begging that he would settle it as soon as he possibly could.
Mr. Clapperton was again seized with fever, so violent as to give us all great uneasiness, and render him delirious for twenty-four hours; and from an idea that the disorder was infectious, the Bornou people could scarcely be persuaded to come near our huts. Doctor Oudney each day became weaker and weaker; Hillman was gaining a little strength: while I might be considered as the best of the party, although often suffering from headaches, and pains in the chest, with what gave me more uneasiness than all, increasing dimness of sight. I, however, kept up my spirits, visited Barca Gana and Mai Meigamy, nearly every day; and found amusement in entering into all their troubles and fears lest the bashaw should send a ghrazzie into the country.