Oct. 17.—We had another day of rest, and were pretty tranquil. The women came in throngs to our tents, and were willing to sell us corn and dates, for either dollars or Soudan tobes, at one hundred and fifty per cent. profit: two lean goats they asked me four dollars for; and for a sheep, six. A great deal of bustle was made about the settlement of the dispute with the Mesurata Arabs, and the Tibboo: “The Book” was to be referred to, but Hadge Mohammed Abedeen, the brother of the kadi at Mourzuk, would not open the leaves until the relations of the deceased swore to rest satisfied with his decision. This preliminary being arranged on Monday morning, the parties all assembled: the kadi, Hadge Ben Hamet, and Ben Taleb, the chief merchants of our kafila, were present: they found, by the Koran, that if any man lifts his hand higher than his shoulder, in a menacing attitude, though he should not be armed, the adversary is not to wait the falling of the blow, but may strike even to death. The law was, of course, in favour of the Arab, as he proved the Tibboo’s having his hand, armed with a spear, raised above his head, when he shot him dead. On this being declared, the Arabs ran about, throwing their guns over their heads, shouting and, what we should call crowing, to such a degree, that I fully expected the Tibboos would be aggravated to renew hostilities.
Oct. 25.—From hence we were to proceed by a different route to that by which we went to Bornou: crossing, therefore, another part of the range, we moved until night, and halted in what appeared to us a beautiful oasis, under a ridge of dark sand hills. This spot of dingy fertility extended several miles to the west, and afforded us water, grass, and wood, for that and the two following days, which were to be passed in deserts. A few miserable inhabitants had fixed themselves here, for the sake of a small crop of dates, yielded by a few palms: they were all anxious to exchange the produce of their valley for a blue or a white shirt of the coarsest kind,—a luxury they were the more in want of from possessing no other clothing. This is by far the best road; soft sand gravel, instead of rough broken stones; and the kafilas prefer it on account of the wells. The oasis is called Seggedem. From hence, eight days’ distance, is a Tibboo town, and by this road kafilas sometimes pass to Ghraat.
Oct. 26.—We left Seggedem after a blowing night, which either overset the tents, or buried them several feet in the sand. Towards evening we rested, and starting again at daylight, made the wells of Izhya by noon next day.
From El Wahr to Meshroo are three very fatiguing days without water, or a single vestige of verdure. We were not able to reach the well, and halted short of the Beeban el Meshroo, the pass leading to the well, nearly four miles. On Sunday, the 8th of November, we arrived at the well,—watered our weary camels, and our more weary men, and again pursued our route until night, when we pitched westward of the well of Omhah; and after one more dreary day, at night (Nov. 9th) we slept under the palm trees which surround Tegerhy, the most miserable inhabited spot in Fezzan, nay, in the world, I might almost say, and yet we hailed it with inexpressible joy, after the pitiless deserts we had passed.
The fatigue and difficulty of a journey to Bornou is not to be compared with a return to Fezzan: the nine days from Izhya to Tegerhy, without either forage or wood, is distressing beyond description, to both camels and men, at the end of such a journey as this. The camels, already worn out by the heavy sand-hills, have the stony desert to pass; the sharp points bruise their feet, and they totter, and fall under their heavy loads: the people, too, suffer severely from the scanty portion of provisions, mostly dates, that can be brought on by these tired animals,—and altogether it is nine days of great distress and difficulty. There is something about El Wahr surpassing dreariness itself: the rocks are dark sandstone, of the most gloomy and barren appearance; the wind whistles through the narrow fissures, which disdain to afford nourishment even to a single blade of wild grass; and as the traveller creeps under the lowering crags, to take shelter for the night, stumbling at each step over the skeleton of some starved human being, and searching for level spots on the hard rock, on which to lay his wearied body, he may fancy himself wandering in the wilds of desolation and despair.
On the day of our making El Wahr, and the two following days, camels in numbers dropped and died, or were quickly killed, and the meat brought on by the hungry slaves. Kafilas are obliged to rely on the chance of Tibboos and Arabs from Mourzuk hearing of their having passed the desert, and bringing them supplies; should these fail, many poor creatures must fall a sacrifice for the salvation of the rest. These bringers of supplies usually sell their dates and corn to eager buyers, at about four times the price they could obtain for them in Fezzan; besides which, the merchants gladly hire their unburthened camels to quicken their passage to a better country.
A Tibboo trader, who was returning to his own country from Fezzan, gave me a gratifying proof of the confidence he was willing to place in the word of an Englishman. It was nearly night, and I was in front of the camels: he had dates to sell, and mine were expended, but I told him that my money was in my trunk, and that my camels were too tired for me to unload them: “God bless you!” said he, “why, I wish you would buy all I have, camels and all: I know who the English are! Are they not almost Mislem, and people of one word? Measure the dates, and go on:—pay the kaid at Mourzuk.”
We here voraciously bought up a few bad onions, to give a little flavour to our insipid meal of flour and water; and soon after, the kaid brought me a sheep, the only one in the town, which we cut up and divided, so that we had a sumptuous meal about nine o’clock in the evening.
On Sunday the 14th of November, by easy journeys we reached Gatrone, which, before so miserable in our eyes, now really seemed a little Paradise; and the food which the old hadge who governs there sent us, of the same kind we before thought so unpalatable on our outward voyage, now seemed delicious. I literally got up at daylight to feast on a mess of hot broth and fresh bread, most highly peppered, and made as good a meal as ever I did in my life.
At Gatrone, as well as at Tegerhy, our tents were pitched in a palm grove, the trees shading us during the day from the sun-beams, and at night from the easterly winds: the gentle moaning of the breeze through its slowly-waving branches was to us a most pleasing novelty; and the noble, nutritious, and productive palm, seemed in our eyes fully to merit the beautiful lines of Abulfeda: