July 17.—We this day reached Angornou, very much fatigued with our journey; we had a drenching night of it, and crept into our friend Abdi Nibbe’s hut, with great joy: the worst of these storms were that they spoiled the only meal we could get time to cook in the twenty-four hours; and our tents, which rarely withstood the blasts, on falling, exposed all our stores as well as ourselves to the pelting of the storm.
On my arrival again at Kouka I found that Captain Clapperton, with a small kafila, had returned from Soudan: it was nearly eight months since we had separated, and although it was midday I went immediately to the hut where he was lodged; but so satisfied was I that the sun-burnt sickly person that lay extended on the floor, rolled in a dark blue shirt, was not my companion, that I was about to leave the place, when he convinced me of my error, by calling me by my name: the alteration in him was certainly most striking. Our meeting was a melancholy one: he had buried his companion, and I had also closed the eyes of my younger and more robust colleague, Mr. Toole. Notwithstanding the state of weakness in which I found Captain Clapperton, he yet spoke of returning to Soudan after the rains.
July 28.—I had now determined on proceeding by Woodie to Kanem, and approaching as near as possible to Tangalia, the spot where I had left Barca Gana, when I had passed by the southern extremity of the lake; and if I succeeded, and returned before the departure of the kafila after the Aid Kebir, I fostered a hope of retracing my steps across the desert, with all the satisfaction of a man who had accomplished to the full the duties that had been assigned him. Yagah Menamah, the chief eunuch of the sheikh’s favourite wife, came to me soon after daylight, and presented me with two kansara, or fly-flappers, made of the tail of the camelopard; and in her name said that she had burnt salt for my departure, praying that neither the devil nor any of his imps might be able to play me any malicious tricks on my journey. The sheikh had consented to Mr. Tyrwhitt’s remaining as consul: and on my inquiring whether he would protect one or two English merchants, if they came to his country—“Certainly: why not?” said he, “and assist them to the extent of my power; but they must be small traders, or the journey will never pay them.” He expressed his wish to write to the king, and added, “whatever I can do in Soudan, remember I am ready. I have influence there certainly, which may increase, and probably shortly extend to Nyffé. As to yourself, I shall write to beg the king will send you here, with any English whom he may wish to visit Bornou. You are known, and might now go any where in Bornou without fear. Even the Shouaas on the frontiers, and the Duggenah, all know Rais Khaleel: but this has not been done hastily; you have been nearly eighteen months amongst us, and you remember when you could not go to Angornou without inconvenience. I then thought you would never be as much at liberty here as you are. Time and yourself may be thanked for this, not me; for I could not, by any orders I might have given, have done for you what your mixing freely with the people, and gaining their good will, has brought about—and yet you are a Christian!”
July 30.—This morning the sheikh sent to Mr. Clapperton, Mr. Hillman, and myself, as a present, a very fine camel, a horse, and two water-skins, two leopard skins, and two dressed-leather sacks. In the course of the morning another cargo was brought to me, consisting of eight elephants’ tusks, with the horns of three other animals. The horns were, first, the maremah, a long horn similar to one I had seen at Kabshary—the animal has two, bending backwards at the point; kirkadan, a two-horned animal; another animal, with one long horn and a second shorter just above it, nearly between the eyes of the animal, was described to me as having, on the sheikh’s late expedition to Gulphi, carried a man and horse, spiked on his horn, more than one hundred yards, when, frightened by the cries of the people, he dropped them, and made his escape: the man was unhurt, but the horse died.
Aug. 6.—This was the Aide Kebir, the principal feast of the Mussulmans during the year, in commemoration of God’s staying the hand of Abraham in the place Jehovah-jireh, when about to sacrifice his son Isaac: all who can muster a sheep or a goat kill it on this day, after prayers. The sheikh sent the day before, to know if we kept the feast; and when we met, repeated his question. I replied, that we believed the interposition of the Divine Power in saving Isaac to be a signal proof of God’s mercy and love to all his creatures; “for remember,” said I, “he is the God of many, not of Mussulmans alone; and that our father Abraham’s great and implicit faith in the existence of that mercy, was what obtained for him all the blessings God promised him.”
He sent us two very fine sheep, and we killed and feasted with the rest. Early in the morning, the sheikh, with his sons and all his court, mounted, according to custom, to welcome the Aid, by praying outside the town, and firing and skirmishing on their return: the assembly was not so large as on former occasions, in consequence of the absence of the chiefs in Kanem; indeed every thing went off extremely flat, owing to the defeat of the sheikh’s people. Contrary to custom, no presents were made by him, and no dresses were distributed to the slaves: instead of the glossy new tobes which on former occasions shone on the persons of the footmen who ran by the side of his horse, they were now clothed with torn, discoloured ones, and every thing wore the appearance of gloom and disgrace. On these days, the custom is also for the women to assemble, dressed in all their finery, in the street, before the doors of their huts, and scream a salutation to the passing chiefs: it was one of the best parts of the ceremony, but this year it was omitted. The sheikh, whose unamiable trait was, as I have before observed, visiting the weaknesses of the female part of his subjects with too great severity, had, during my absence, given an order which would have disgraced the most absolute despot that ever sat on a throne: the gates of his town were kept shut at daylight one morning, and his emissaries despatched, who bound and brought before him sixty women who had a bad reputation; five were sentenced to be hanged in the public market, and four to be flogged; which latter punishment was inflicted with such severity, that two expired under the lash. Those who were doomed to death, after being dragged, with their heads shaved, round the market on a public day, with a rope round their necks, were then strangled, and thrown, by twos, into a hole previously prepared, in the most barbarous manner. This diabolical act, for it deserves no better name, armed all tongues against him. The Bornouese, who are a humane and forgiving people, shuddered at so much cruelty: and so much influence had the ladies in general with their husbands, that more than a hundred families quitted Kouka, (to which place they were before daily flocking), to take up their abodes in other towns where this rigour did not exist. In Kouka, they declared there was no living, where only to be suspected was sufficient to be doomed to a cruel and ignominious death; and where malicious spies converted “trifles light as air, into confirmation strong.” Those who remained, though the women of his particular attendants, refused flatly to scream him a welcome, and the procession passed through the streets in silence.
Aug. 7.—I was now on the eve of departing for Kanem, to proceed by Woodie to the north-east of the lake. Mr. Clapperton had been ill with sore legs and an attack of dysentery, but was better. Mohammed Bousgayey, an Arab, who left this place with Doctor Oudney and Mr. Clapperton, came to my hut: he had gone on from Kano, with four or five Arabs, to Yeouri and to Nyffé, and had stayed some time at a place called Gusgey on the Quolla, two days west-south-west nearly, from Yeouri. The Quolla he described to be here as wide as to the market outside the walls and back, which must have been nearly two miles: they were all kaffirs, he said, but not bad people. The sultan Mahmoud had several hundred guns, and powder, which were brought from the bahr kebir (great water), and arrack (rum), in plenty; which was brought in large glass bottles. At eight days distance only from Yeouri, large boats came to a place called Yearban, but it is not on the bahr kebir. Katungah is the great port, which is at some distance: to both of these places people he called Americans came; they were white, and Christians: they always demand gum arabic and male slaves, for which they will pay as high as sixty and seventy dollars each. Sultan Mahmoud produced to him two books, which he said were like mine; and told him, that a man, whose beard was white, had lived nearly three years with no money; that he wished to go, but had no means, and that he died. Bousgayey said the sultan had offered him the book; which he refused, as he did not know what he could do with it; but that now he was going back, and should bring it.
In the afternoon we went to pay our respects to the sheikh, in honour of the feast. He received us but coolly: and I was scarcely seated on the sand, when I saw near me a little shrief from Marocco, named Hassein, who, though once or twice our friend, I was always in fear of, being aware both of his cunning and his influence. Almost the first question of the sheikh’s was, as to the distance of our country from India: and when told it was four months by sea, he said, “What could induce you to go so far from home—to find it out, and fight with the people?” We replied, “that we had plenty of ships, and were great lovers of discovery; that the French and the Dutch had been there before us; and we were always jealous of our neighbours doing more than ourselves.” “And now it is all yours,” said he, “and governed by your laws!” Our reply was, “that we only kept possession of the part near the sea—that their own laws were in full force—but that even Mussulmans often preferred the English laws to their own.” “Wonderful!” said he, “and you went at first with only a few ships, as friends?” “We are friends now,” said I, “and by trade have not only made ourselves rich, but the natives also.” “By God!” said the Marroquin, “they eat the whole country—they are no friends: these are the words of truth.” We had then a few remarks (not good-natured ones) as to the right of dictating to Algiers and the other Barbary powers. Algiers we described as unfaithful to their word, and little better than pirates.
| Sketch by Major Denham. | Engraved by E. Finden. |