March 9.—I am a little better to-day, and the provisions I sent for to Barrakee's village have arrived all safe; so I start for Azho, a large frontier village, to-day. I hope to catch the steamer which I believe leaves Massowah for Suez about the 24th of March. To-day I shot a large bare-necked vulture, which was hovering over the camp last evening, and I am writing my journal with one of its quills, as Petros, in sweeping out my "das," chanced to lose my guinea-fowl pen. The vulture I thought to be a bird of ill-omen, and so knocked him down. In the evening I went out close to the water and shot one of the sand-grouse which came to drink, but it was so dark I could not find the bird. No one can have any idea how miserable it is to be sick in the bush, away from everybody and everything—no one to speak to but your servant, who generally talks the vilest of negro English. However, I was homeward-bound to-day, my servants having made me a rough sort of palanquin, in which I intended to be carried, as I meant to try and avoid either walking or riding. I hoped to get fresh eggs, milk, and chickens at the village of Azho, which might improve me; as in reality it was good food that I wanted. I had sent on some of my baggage with Guyndem and another servant, and with orders to build me a "das" at Azho, and let the people know that I was coming. I proposed to stop half-way on the road at Maidarou.
March 10.—I had an awful journey on the previous night. I started from the other side of the plain of Coom-Coom-Dema at five o'clock by my little sundial, and got to Maidarou, our old camping-place, about 9 P.M. Of course I could not say if this time was correct; it struck me as being a good deal later. Taiou, one of our coolies—a man who had been with an Englishman named Flood that had lived in the country some time before—lost the donkey on which my bed was strapped, just before we came into camp. It was very dark when we came to Maidarou, and Goubasee, who was carrying my palanquin, and who was in front, tumbled into a hole and shot me and my gun and books on to the ground. This was rather unpleasant, considering the state of health I was in, but there was no alternative but to get up and laugh and go on. At last I saw the twinkling light of a fire, and I soon found myself at the top of the little rocky hill where we had camped before. But although I had arrived at the halting-place there was no bed for me to sleep on; so I bade them put all the skin bags I had with me down at the end of the tent, then I put some big stones alongside, and covered the whole with some dry cut grass. This made a capital bed, and I slept better than I had done for the last two weeks, as I was completely tired and done up. Curiously enough, the caravan that afforded me some flour when my servants were almost starving had just arrived, on their way back to Adiaboo with cotton from Walkait. Zaroo, the man who behaved so kindly to me before and gave me some bread of his own, said, as I was so ill, he would induce some of the people of the caravan to carry me in my palanquin. I here wrote my journal lying on my bags and straw under the shade of two beautiful trees, a luxury one appreciates in this hot climate. I am much better, I think, to-day.
That afternoon I started for Azho; the chief of the caravan, by threats and persuasions, making his people carry me. I was jolted along somehow or other; and the journey was not eventful, with one exception. One old gentleman declined the honour of carrying me, and made a great row. I found myself and my palanquin placed on the ground, with every prospect of being left there. I said, if they would not take me on to the next camping-place I would shoot them, and I let off my revolver in the air, but still the old native refused to take up the burden, and told the other people not to carry me. I here leaped up and knocked him backwards with "one in the eye;" he tripped up over his load of cotton, that he had placed down beside him, and turned a complete summersault. The rest, seeing what had become of him, and being rather astonished at a sick man getting well enough to do this, picked up me and my palanquin and carried me off. It was getting late, and the men carrying me were going very slow, so I rode the mule belonging to Ali the cook, for a little way, but found I should not be able to get to Azho that night, and I stopped at some water half-way. I was better, so I told the chief I would not bother him or his people to carry me any farther; and he came the last thing in the evening to say good-bye to me, as they were going to start at daybreak.
Last night Ali and Mahomet had a difference of opinion about an order I had given with regard to some food. One of them had told a lie, and they both accused each other of lying. I said I could not allow this, as nothing would be done if things went on in this sort of way; so, in the morning, after the caravan had gone on, I said they were to settle their dispute with two sticks. I made Goubasee cut two long sticks, and the scene which ensued beat anything I ever saw. They were so frightened of each other that neither of them dared at first to hit very hard, but at length, when either of them did so, the other flinched most dreadfully and then returned the blow with compound interest. When one blow was harder than another a yell in proportion followed its infliction. I made myself quite ill with laughing at them, and the servants were in convulsions too. At last they begged of me to let them off; and so I said they ought to be satisfied with each other now.
March 11.—Started for Azho in the afternoon, riding Ali's mule, and, after a tiring march, I came in sight of the village at sunset. Some of the villagers, who had heard I was coming up, came out to meet me and say "How do you do?" I found that Guyndem, whom I had sent on, had not built a "das," as the people would not lend him any tools for making it, or give him any assistance. I went straight up to a cluster of houses, and said I should pitch my tent inside the hedge which surrounded them. The people were very civil at first, and brought some milk. I asked them to give me some dry grass, which they used for thatching their houses, to put on an angareb which they had lent me.[14] I was in great pain at the time, and was very much annoyed at their not bringing this grass, so I sprang up with my revolver in my hand. Before going any farther I must tell the reader that the adventure which followed nearly cost me my life, and it was all owing to my own foolishness. It is a great mistake to flash your weapons if you really do not mean to use them. I ran down among some houses where my servants were talking trying to persuade the people to give me some dried grass, and said if they did not give me some I would shoot them. It was getting rather dark, and I fired my revolver off in the air. The women screamed, and in a minute the whole village was up in arms. Some of the men had spears, and the others guns: they completely surrounded me, and one seized me by the wrist and tried to drag me off. I snatched myself out of his grasp and backed against a straw hut. Another man kept pointing at me with a loaded gun about a foot off my head, calling me shifter—which means robber. At this moment a very tall Abyssinian pushed his way through the crowd and came up to me, putting his hand over his mouth, which was to give me to understand that I was to hold my tongue and not make a noise. He took me by the hand and led me away, the crowd hooting and shouting at me. One fellow ran in front and aimed his spear at me, but the tall Abyssinian, who seemed to be my friend, raised his spear, and the fellow took to his heels. As is very often the case with most of these disputes, it all ended in smoke. I got the straw for my bed after all, and went to sleep. They came to me and told me I must take my tent outside their village, but I replied that I would not move it, and that it did no harm there; so it stopped there for the night.
March 12.—To-day I made Petros sit outside the door of the big round Abyssinian hut that I had taken possession of during the heat of the day and "make bazaar," as he calls it; that is to say, he took my handkerchiefs and beads and red cloth which I had with me, and exchanged them for chickens and eggs, of which I was in great need. It may interest some of my readers to know what the rate of exchange was: one Manchester cotton pocket-handkerchief for one chicken and six eggs. The haggling and bargaining over these important mercantile transactions was very amusing, but Petros seemed up to everything; in fact, his usual occupation was that of a merchant in the bazaar at Suez. In the afternoon the man who had pointed the gun at me and called me a robber came to pay me a visit. I asked why he had called me a robber. He said that when he heard the shot fired, the people told him I had shot his brother. He had brought me half a large pumpkin as a sort of peace-offering. I said to him, if he would bring me a whole one I would give him a red pocket-handkerchief. He went away and fetched a large pumpkin, and I gave him a red handkerchief, and then told him I was not accustomed to be called a robber, and that, although I was very sick, if he would get two thick sticks I would go outside the village with him and give him an excellent thrashing. My friend sneaked off at this, and another Abyssinian, who was standing by, seemed much amused. I had not got rid of the horrid complaint that troubled me, and I was afraid that dysentery had set in in earnest. I sent back a coolie from here to H., with a letter to say that I had really started for the coast. I heard no more of him till I got to England; the account of the sport he had I give hereafter.
Towards the evening I started for Adikai, a village we had camped in before. The man who had accused me of shooting his brother and called me a robber came to say good-bye to me, and we parted the best of friends. I tried to find out who the tall Abyssinian was who had helped me out of the scrape and had taken me by the hand and led me through the crowd, but he had disappeared, and no one knew who or where he was; I believe he was a king's soldier who was stationed here to collect the customs. I had an easy march to Adikai, and when I got to the village my servants told me that Zaroo, my old friend the chief of the caravan, who had made his people carry my palanquin, lived close by. Shortly afterwards he came to see me, and brought me some Dargousa beer, which had been kept for some time and which was pretty good. I was kept awake half the night by the barking of the village curs: at last, at my entreaties, some ballagas turned out and tried to stop them, but it was of no use. A crying baby in a hut close by also enlivened the night by its yells; so I sent to the mother of the child and told her to give it some milk, which seemed to quiet it.
March 13.—The people of this village were much more civil to me, and one of two men who had behaved very well at Azho, and who had come up with me, sent off to a village close by and got me twelve eggs. The Abyssinians, curiously enough, do not care for eggs; they sometimes make a sort of curry of them with red pepper. After this man brought me the eggs, which was early in the morning, he went on to Adiaboo, where it was market-day. Zaroo came to me this morning, and I talked with him over my journey to the coast, as he knew the road very well. He told me he was acquainted with a much nearer way to Koudoofellassie than that I had come by, and I asked him if he would come with me to show it: at first he said he would, and then he asked me what I would give him. I only had five dollars with me, so it was of very little use offering him that. I said I would give him a revolver; but he told me this would be of no use to him. What he really wanted was one of my muzzle-loading pistols, of which I had a pair of very good ones, which I had bought of Rigby in St. James's Street, and which I particularly did not want to part with. After haggling with him a long time I was quite disappointed, as he had at first assured me he did not want anything for showing me the way. I then told him I would trust to myself and go back the same way I had come, and thanked him for his former kindness.
I sent on the donkeys with the tent to Maihumloo, a little river where we had camped before, at the end of the Sememmar Plain, meaning to go on in the afternoon. I tried at this village to get two men to carry some of my things, but they asked a great deal too much, and so we could not come to terms. On my way to Adiaboo, Goubasee stopped an old man, and his wife and daughter, and asked the old gentleman if he would help to carry the load Goubasee had with him. The old patriarch asked where we were going to; Goubasee replied Sememmar, and that he would get a dollar if he carried the load; upon which, without a moment's hesitation, notwithstanding the entreaties of his wife and daughter, he picked up the load and carried it along. His daughter then began to cry, and said she would not leave him, so they both joined our little party. This was a great piece of luck for me, as it relieved Goubasee of a large part of his load.
The market was just over as I passed through Adiaboo. I tried to find some man to guide me the short way of which Zaroo had told me, but none of them would go, as they said it was a bad road, the stages were long, and there was very little water. While I was talking to these people a young man came up and said that he had letters for Rass Mayo, which was the name I went by in Abyssinia; upon which my servants told him he was to give them to me immediately. This was the man that the head of the Mahomedan village had sent off with my letters. He had sent them by the steamer and had brought me back letters from home. I was delighted to get them, and for the rest of my march across the large plain which lies between Adiaboo and Sememmar I occupied myself in reading the good news from home. I had miscalculated the distance from Adiaboo to Maihumloo; it was a great deal too far, and we had started late, having been delayed in the market-place. I was getting more and more exhausted, and it was rapidly becoming dark. Just as night closed in a thunder-storm came on, Goubasee, who had been our guide, completely lost his way, and I was dreadfully ill and weary, so we had to stop in the middle of the jungle. I managed with great difficulty to light a fire, and make a little soup out of Liebig's extract of meat. The poor girl that had accompanied her father, who was carrying some of my baggage, had sprained her ankle, or sustained a similar injury, and it was a miserable sight to see her sitting shivering over the fire and crying piteously with pain. I also suffered very much from illness all night.