Kirkham's and the Galla boys were delighted; they thought, the young rascals, there was a chance of a fight. We waited till the afternoon, when, coming across the plain, we saw the chief, followed by a large retinue, some on mules, some with shields, spears, and guns, holding little plaited straw umbrellas over their heads. I made arrangement that only the chief himself and a few of his followers should be allowed inside our little enclosure. When he arrived I met him at the door, and escorted him inside the house. We then told him all that had happened, and had the prisoner brought in. The chief questioned him, and then ordered him outside to be thrashed; but he was not punished, as he implored to be let off, and said he would use his best endeavours to get people of the village to carry our baggage. We gave our Egyptian soldiers a present, and they went back to Massowah.
We here changed our plans, as K. said it was only a waste of time going to Adowa on our way to the shooting on the Mareb and Tackazzee, and we might do it coming back. Eventually, after the chief's soldiers and followers had hunted up the villagers, and dragged them, kicked them, and beat them, they were made to carry our baggage. We started about one hour before sunset, the coolies having gone in front. The reason that the soldiers treated the villagers in this way was, that the king, who was far away, had heard there were some Englishmen coming into the country, and had given orders to the chiefs or governors that we were to be treated with respect, and everything that we wanted done for us.
We travelled across a large table-land with not a vestige of foliage to be seen, and no sound to be heard but now and then the bleating of the sheep as they were driven to their pens near the villages for the night. The moon rose, and we very soon found ourselves near a village called Adouguada. All our coolies had stopped; the lazy fellows had scarcely been travelling for two hours; they had handed our baggage over to the head-man of the village. This is a usual mode of proceeding in Abyssinia; one is passed on from village to village, and if the villages happen to be close together the day is spent in quarrelling and in looking over and counting the baggage. When I rode up they were all talking at once and making a horrid noise, as is usual on such occasions. I asked for a hearing, and informed the villagers of Adouguada that if they did not carry our baggage I should take two cows and two sheep from the village, and stop there all that night with my servants; under these circumstances they would have to provide us with bread, etc. Brou, the interpreter, advised me to do this; he said, "It is the only way to get on, and you are travelling in the king's name, and can have what you want." H. then came up with K., and we procured something to eat and some coffee. The villagers made much noise and gesticulation, and then at last picked up half our things and went off.
We then started for Sellaadarou, the place we were going to camp at that night. It was bright moonlight, and the moon in the East, as some of my readers probably know, appears very different from our moon at home. It was a beautiful ride, but a little cold. We arrived at Sellaadarou about nine P.M., or perhaps a little later. K., like an old soldier as he was, pitched the camp just outside the village, in a sort of little garden that the villagers had made to grow their capsicums in; it was surrounded by a thick thorn hedge, made of boughs cut from the thorny acacia. This hedge provided us with wood without any trouble; so we made two large bonfires to warm ourselves, ate some supper, and turned in after a long worrying day. The other half of the baggage had not come up when we retired to our tents.
Jan. 16: Sellaadarou.—After breakfast this morning I went out shooting, taking with me a native of the village to show me the way. I "put up" some partridges, among them a young florican, which I shot, much to the astonishment of the Abyssinian. They never can make out how birds can be shot while on the wing, as their plan is to get as near as possible, and then "pot" the birds on the ground—a very good one too, if the sportsman is hungry. I never knew before that there were floricans in Abyssinia; there are plenty in some parts of India. The bird was delicious eating. I saw two dark mouse-brown deer, but could not get at them, and, of course, for a long shot I wanted my Express rifle. When I came into camp I found that some of the villagers of Sellaadarou had carried on a few of our things. H. had been round the village with some of our servants to beat up the natives; he said it was great fun running from house to house trying to catch the men, the women swearing that their husbands or sons were away. Abyssinian servants, on occasions like these, always filch any little things they can quietly lay their hands on, and bring them to their master afterwards; I had on several occasions to punish servants for this, and make them take the things back. H. started in the afternoon with a little more of the baggage. I told him we must force our way on, and, as he was now on the move, to go as far as he could. It will be seen afterwards he did a capital march.
Chickut was the name of the village K. told us we could camp at. It was rather a short march, and I knew H. would go farther, for we had been very much annoyed by these continual delays, so we agreed that he should go on to the next village beyond Chickut. K. then went back to Adouguada to fetch up the other half of our baggage left behind; I said I would wait for him. Time went on, and it got later and later. Fisk, who had stayed with me, said he would go out and try to get something good for dinner, in case we should have to stop the night here. Just at sunset I saw K. in the distance, kicking his old mule along as fast as he could; he rode up and said Maria Theresa had won the day—meaning the dollars. "All right," said I; "let us have something to eat—then we must start and make a night march of it." Fisk then came in and we made some soup.
There was nobody to carry the few things that remained here, so we determined to use our mules as pack animals and walk; and a nice walk it was, too. Fisk's white mule, bought at Massowah, declined to keep the baggage on her back, and twice kicked all the things off, scattering them right and left. Among them was the spirit case and medicine chest; thank goodness, neither were broken. I had them made after my own fashion, so this was a severe test for them. The white mule had to be ridden after all, and poor K. had to give up his riding-mule to carry the things. We started an hour and a half after sunset,[7] and walked well right into Chickut, where we arrived about eight P.M. The whole village was in a deep sleep, and we were only greeted by a few barking dogs.
The road from Sellaadarou to Chickut is very rugged, and is a steep descent, but it was a lovely moonlight night, and what we could see of the view was glorious. Euphorbia, and the wild olive, formed a great feature in the magnificent scenery. Poor K. stuck to the walking well, but he had on a thin pair of button boots, which were rather trying to his poor feet over the rocks. He would insist that H. had stopped at Chickut, but I knew very well that he had gone on. I then told him what I had said to him before we started. We had some cold soup we brought with us, and shared a small biscuit between us. H. had taken all the provisions on in front with him.
The road descended more or less steeply from Chickut to Deevaroua, and at last we came to the Mareb. Here it is a small stream, and rises in a high mountain about four miles from this place. K. told me that the ground at the foot of the mountain was swampy, and that there were springs as well all the year round. This river Mareb is the Gash of the country in and near Kassala. In its course across the desert to Kassala its waters are absorbed by the desert sands, but it is a foaming, muddy torrent during the rains. This is one of the Nile tributaries of Abyssinia, mentioned in Sir Samuel Baker's book. I wish I had been able to fix the source of this river exactly, but I had no instruments or other appliances with which to work; I hope to do this eventually.
The village of Deevaroua, where we were to stop for the rest of the night, was on the top of the gorge through which the little stream of the Mareb runs. A large and most beautiful tree, of the species Ficus Indica, spread its branches near the stream. From this we drank excellent water, and then went up to the village. After a little wandering about we found where H. had pitched K.'s tent, which he had taken on with him; all were asleep and snoring. I had a good mind to "draw" H., but it was a quarter to eleven, so I let him repose in peace. K. roused up his Abyssinian cook, Blanche[8] by name, and she made us some coffee. The servants pitched our tent, and I turned in, very tired but not exhausted. It has been shrewdly observed of the air on these hills, that it is "like champagne, minus the headache."