At noon, W. by W., and at one o’clock S. Towards the east, we see the vessels that have remained behind, in the extensive sea of reeds, and we likewise, for the first time, rightly remark the winding of this passage. The gigantic rush shews itself here and there like little pine-forests; also isolated parcels of high reeds over the old dry low reeds, which spring forth again fresh from their stalks. The spikes of the grass are here cropped, and before us there rises an enormous swarm of locusts, who move up the river. These may be, for the moment, welcome food to the fish mostly seen here, which are wide-mouthed, but otherwise similar to an eel (Clarias anguillaris). All those that we caught, had locusts in their belly. The wind, as is usual about noon, has almost entirely slackened; the crew row, keeping time with songs to their oars, S.W. by S. About three o’clock, we halt at the right shore of the reeds, which are dry here, although on the right they are of a soft green. Now I see that we must not be deceived by the yellow tracts, with the belief that firm ground exists there, for the grasses here, standing in the water, are also dry.
Although the thermometer, as yesterday, is only 28°, yet it feels, when the dead calm sets in, as close and confined as in Khartùm, with a heat of 42°, to which, perhaps, the exhalations from the marshes may mostly contribute. An unusual perspiration has not only made its appearance upon me, but even the crew, especially the rowers, are dripping, as if with water. About nine o’clock in the evening, we cast anchor in a depth of two fathoms, and half a mile current.
I had resigned to Feïzulla Capitan the pleasure of preparing the bill of fare for us, and therefore there was so much cooked (“Alla Kerim”), that not only he, but half the crew, were feasted. The Kurd had previously withdrawn himself from this community; and I found it advisable, as I had been robbed by his people into the bargain, to be economical with my provisions, in order that they might last to the end of the voyage, giving my servant, Sate Mahommed, from Mahass, the most necessary directions for cooking.
13th December.—If a regular visitation of gnats took place three days ago, it was nothing to be compared with that of yesterday evening. Even this morning, when the sun had risen, we had no rest; it was impossible for me to write even if my head had been less confused, after such a painful night. This was the smaller species, not having legs, with spots like pearls. Neither fans, nor entire masses of tobacco, which we kindled on an iron platter, keep these little beasts away from us.
Millions of glowworms fluttered around in the rushes and ambaks, accompanied by the shrill cry of locusts. The croaking, however, of frogs was wanting, for they do not appear to be forthcoming here. A little before sunrise, we again rowed towards the west; and the whole crew, though exhausted, really used their utmost endeavours to get away from this region. We advanced, however, but slowly, for the current had become a little stronger. About eight o’clock, to our great delight, a strong N.E. wind set in, and we made four miles. The horizon was covered, towards the right shore, from E. to S., with tokuls, and there was a considerable village at the point where the river approaches from E. and E.S.E. Unfortunately we are obliged to wait for the vessels left behind; and this is so much the more to be regretted because the strong north winds seem altogether to be lost here. We are only separated from this shore by a few reeds, but prevented from landing, as the water reaches far above a man’s head. Low bushes of mimosas stand there upon dry ground, scarcely elevated above the surface of the Nile, but rising, however somewhat towards a village in which a tokul is distinguished, from its unusual size. The little sandal has, nevertheless, discovered a narrow road, made by the natives, or by the large aquatic animals to the land, and brings off with it twenty-five sheep, which it has procured on shore.
The inhabitants of this village were harshly used by the former expedition. At that time they brought four oxen as a present, and gave a sheep to Thibaut, who, because it was somewhat swollen, took it to be poisoned. This circumstance was sufficient cause to incite the crew to go ashore, to surround the village on all sides, and to shoot down, in a shameful manner, the Sheikh, and several others who had fled with him into the neighbouring marshes. Thibaut made a very pretty booty here, consisting, amongst other things, of a square quiver, somewhat curved at the top, altogether of antique form; besides large felt caps, very similar to the ancient Egyptian caps of the priests, high and obtuse in front; bread collars for bulls, set round with iron spindle-shaped ornaments, which were hung up in the great tokul, and may have been hung therefore round their Apis, as signs of adoration or affection, only on certain festive occasions.
In the neighbourhood, we saw far and wide, towards the left side of the village, the smoke assume a magnificent form. We see from the deck flames moving towards us, the wind being favourable, in long battle array, and steam and black ashes spread near us, apparently arising from the dry grass. Thousands of birds driven thence swarm in the air around the vessels. A number of turtle-doves remain quite innocently in our neighbourhood, perched on the ambak-bushes. It may indeed be called fortunate that the wood there was low and generally thin, for, had it been otherwise, this conflagration, probably caused by the frightened inhabitants, might easily have set the sails on fire. The fatalism, however, of the Turks causes us to squat in the very same place till about sunset, in order to fill our ships again with gnats, although we see the vessels, left behind, coming at a distance. The river winds here from E.S.E. to S.S.W. At last they apply themselves to their oars, but we gain very little, for the current amounts to more than one mile, and the wind, which had set in over night, holds scarcely on for a moment.
14th December.—After a restless night, we did not put ourselves in motion this morning till an hour after sunrise. I see that we have scarcely advanced this night two miles, calculating from the trees standing towards N.E., behind us, which I remarked yesterday at the village of the Nuèhrs, who, indeed, had fled from us behind the burning wood. We sail slowly to the west, and we should scarcely distinguish the right shore, if some tokul-tops were not seen peeping out at a distance of an hour and a half. From want of wind we halt for a time, and sail then with the shifting N.E. wind, further westward, till we go, at ten o’clock, S.W., and make two miles. At eleven o’clock the wind becomes so strong that we fly by, as it were, the reeds close at hand, and for the first time make six miles. We went here W.S.W.
The right shore was marked out by three or four large trees standing at equal distance from each other, like ancient monuments of the victory gained here with difficulty over the moist element. Twelve o’clock, N.W. by N., four miles: again sky, water, and reeds; in the latter, solitary bunches of ambaks and high reeds. Soon we go gradually S.W. by S., and the stream, although it is only some 200 or 250 paces broad, appears not to have, near this part, any considerable arms, as none such are visible from the mast-head. From this reason the greater current is explained. The white river traverses these reed-lakes in meandering windings, and river buffaloes can break any other road for themselves in this shoreless expanse. The thermometer shews at three o’clock 28°, at noon 25°, and this morning at sunrise 20° Reaumur. It is now nearly a dead calm, and we are scarcely able to move from N.W. to S.W.
My servant Fadl informs me from the mast, that he sees land, indeed, behind us; but at the side, and before us, nothing but gesch (reeds or grass). The great mass of water of the white stream so suddenly making its appearance, is explained partly from this long lake (the breadth of which cannot be determined from the ship without an air-balloon), forming a great basin. This basin (after the reed or marsh-ground of its flat edge being scarcely superficially dried, is in some degree saturated) collects immediately the water streaming from above, below, and the sides, until, becoming a mass, it surmounts its natural flood-gates, as these machadas may be called, like a breach of a dike.