I do not think I was ever so much annoyed in my life as I was on this occasion with these two men. I felt inclined to give them both a thrashing; but it is very lucky I restrained my temper as, otherwise, it is very likely I should have had the whole village down upon me, and perhaps would not have got so well out of it as I did out of my last scrape. One certainly does feel very helpless without money, no matter where one finds oneself, and this fact, combined with my prostrate condition (of which, no doubt, these men knew as well as I did), rendered me incapable of much exertion. So I had to make up my mind to get my already rather weary servants to carry the things; and the proverb, "Money makes the mare to go," came bitterly home to me.
After resting myself, I rode towards the village of Chickut, which was, my readers will remember, the scene of my night march on our way to the Tackazzee. The country through which I passed presented a beautiful appearance—one continual grove of wild olive-trees, and great Qualquals dotted here and there. This part was not at all cultivated, yet I should think that these olives, if properly trained and cared-for, would make a valuable property; but the natives of Abyssinia have no idea of making oil from the berries. This place is only four days from the coast, and transport of the oil, when made, would not be very expensive. I was very ill all the day, and in the afternoon was so bad that I had to get off my mule and rest under a tree. When I arrived at Chickut I pitched my tent close to a little Coptic church. The village is built on a high hill, and the houses are not like those in the other part of Abyssinia through which I had been travelling; they were flat-roofed, and the walls were built with stones, whereas the ordinary form of huts was a round wall with an extinguisher-shaped roof. It was very cold here, and directly the tent was pitched and my bed made ready I turned into it, and caused my dinner to be brought to me as I lay between the blankets. I find this entry in my journal: "I am not worse, but still very ill. Thank God, I am getting near the end of this awful journey! The chicker here was very kind, and gave my servants abundance of bread for themselves and a chicken for me."
March 22: Chickut.—The people here are all busy putting a roof on the little Coptic church, close by which I had encamped, and the work is done amidst much chattering and talking. I heard from some merchants yesterday that Arrekel Bey, the Governor, had come back to Massowah; so I hope, if this is true, he will keep the steamer for me if I am late. I sent on some of my servants to Beatmohar, K.'s house, to-day, to let his boy Waldemariam know that I was coming, so as to make everything ready for me. Hadji Mahomet was behind with the rest of my donkeys, and I was afraid they would not arrive at Massowah in time to catch the steamer. I started in the afternoon and climbed the steep hill which lies between Chickut and the table-land of Asmarra. It was a lovely view as we ascended, and looked even more charming in the daytime than it had looked in the light of a tropical moon, the condition under which we last saw it. I passed by Sellaadarou, the place where we had encamped, and saw the remaining marks of the two large bonfires we had made. After leaving this place I met some natives on the road; one of them was carrying in his hand a club made of the wild olive wood: it was a beautifully-shaped weapon, and I induced him, after great persuasion, to sell it to me for a dollar. He would not hear of parting with it at first, but some of his companions told him he was a great fool not to sell it, as he could get many others, and a dollar was a good price for the stick.
Travelling on, I found myself on the large plain of Asmarra. Notwithstanding the precautions the people had taken the cattle disease had got among their beasts, and I saw several lying down, stretched out, dying by the side of the pools. The wind blew cold as I crossed the plain, and I wrapped the cotton shama that I had tightly round me. We were a small and wretched-looking party, as we wound our way slowly across this bare tableland; the hardships and long journeys had told pretty severely upon all of us. I thought the plain would never cease, and K.'s little house, with the extinguisher-shaped roof, rose up in the distance, but seemed to get farther from me. To my astonishment, among some stunted bushes I saw two gazelles grazing. I alighted and successfully stalked one, but missed him as he bounded away. I was too weak and ill for shooting, so I mounted my mule again and soon found myself under the welcome shelter of K.'s little house. Waldemariam had got everything ready for me, and some fresh baked bread, which was a great luxury. We had left a box of provisions behind here, which I immediately broke into, and to my great joy I found two bottles of claret and other provisions which we had brought up here. I made my dinner of fresh bread, fried sardines, and a bottle of claret—just about the very worst diet I could have taken under the circumstances; the consequence being that I was terribly ill all night.
March 23.—About four in the morning I heard a cry outside in the village, and then a wailing and lamentation, mixed up with donkeys braying and cocks crowing. It transpired that an old man, who had been ill for some time, had just died. This was an unpleasant thing to happen, and was not calculated to raise my spirits under the circumstances in which I was placed. Later in the morning a brother of Naib Abdul Kerim came to see me. The Naib was the man who brought us up here, and who arranged for the transport of our luggage on bullocks and mules. His brother asked me if he could be of any use, as he had heard I was ill; it was very kind of him, and he proved of great service. I told him that I should be very much obliged if he could get me men from the village to carry me down to the coast, for I was now becoming so extremely weak that I really thought another two days' riding would have polished me off. Accordingly he went into the village and obtained twelve or fourteen men. I borrowed a large angareb from one of the villagers, and caused them to fix two long poles to it, so that it could be carried on men's shoulders. I had no money with me, but luckily K. had left behind a sum of money, and I took the liberty of borrowing some dollars from him to pay the coolies, as these people always insist upon half the agreed sum being paid in advance. I sent forward letters to the French Consul and the Governor, again asking them, in case I should be late, to keep the steamer waiting for me.
On Saturday, about four o'clock in the morning, I was carried very comfortably down to Maihenzee, our old camping-place, where we had passed such a wet night on our way up here; I now passed a comfortable night and felt better. Naib Abdul Kerim's brother brought some coffee with him, of which he gave me a portion, which I think improved me.
The manner of making coffee is rather peculiar, and merits description. When on the march, and travelling in Abyssinia, the natives carry a bag of unroasted berries; taking a few of the grains out of the bag, they put them on a little mat, and then scrape some hot wood-ashes out of the fire; these they mix with the coffee-grains, and then shaking the mat up and down, much in the same way as one sees a groom shaking a sieve of oats to get the dust from them, the coffee becomes gradually roasted. I believe that they know when it is sufficiently done by the smell. Then the coffee is put between two stones and ground to powder; or, if they happen to have a small pestle and mortar, that is used. The ground coffee is then put into a little earthenware vase—one can hardly call it a jar as it has a long neck—water is poured into the vessel, which is put to boil on the fire. When sufficiently heated, some fibre is crammed in the mouth of it to prevent the coffee-grounds from coming out into the cup; then some of those little Turkish cups are produced, and the coffee poured out and drunk. Drinking coffee in these regions is quite a little ceremony, and is generally the time when the most important affairs are discussed, and compliments are exchanged. I may as well say that some of the best coffee I have ever tasted was made in the way described. Why is it so hard to get good coffee in England? One great secret, I am sure, is that every time it is made the berries ought to be fresh roasted and fresh ground.
March 24.—This morning I enjoyed the luxury of a really good wash in hot water, in my little tin basin, having found some soap in K.'s house. I had been without soap for several days, and I was disgusted to find that specimens of the entomology which infests Abyssinians and their houses had transferred their attentions to myself. I hope that none of my readers will ever have to experience, especially in a hot country, the total inability of washing oneself properly.
If there is one thing that is pleasant, and I may say almost a luxury, it is the power of having a really good wash. When one is leading a rough life, one misses the morning tub of civilized life. Even on reaching the Tackazzee, the waters of the river looked inviting for a swim; an indulgence in this pastime would be made in the face of the fact of there being a chance, and indeed a very good one, of being snapped up by a crocodile, which would have been an unpleasant and abrupt termination to a trip undertaken from motives of pleasure and sport. The only place where bathing was practicable was the shallow ford, and during most of the day our native servants might have been seen paddling and splashing about in the shallow water, much to their delight and amusement. I am sure it did them all a great deal of good, Abyssinians, as a rule, not being fond of water applied externally. The not very delicious odour experienced on going amongst them is a sufficient guarantee of this statement.
Whilst I was sitting outside my tent an Armenian merchant, who, my servants told me, went by the name of Bogos, passed by with several mule loads of ivory; he had come from the Shoa country, and he was one of the best-looking men whom I had ever seen; very fair, at least in comparison with Abyssinians, and dressed in the costume of the country. He informed me that the steamer was expected to-day, which was its proper day; and I hoped to arrive in time for it, as, if I could stand the journey, I should be at Massowah to-morrow. I had found an old copy of Milton in K.'s house, and so I passed the morning in reading 'Comus,' which I enjoyed very much.