One o’clock. I had fallen asleep, wearied out, and Feïzulla told me that he had watched the compass during the time I slept, and that we had remained to this moment in a southerly direction. Towards S.E. a large lake, extending between the shore and a wood an hour distant. Fishermen from a village in the neighbourhood are employed in making the water disturbed in its narrow outlets, and covering these with wicker and fishing-baskets. At half-past one o’clock, E.N.E., where another village appears on the right shore; then E. up to four o’clock, and with the rope, for the east wind has set in. This wind is, however, too faint to advance with sails S.W. Even rowing does not assist us, and we at first advance Libàhn.
I interpret it as a good omen that I am in such a cheerful humour to-day, arising a good deal from my present state of health. Poor Sabatier, on the contrary, seems to be going fast to certain death, through his own melancholy and Arnaud’s heartlessness, for he is continually affected with fever and will never hear of any diet. At half-past four o’clock, S.S.W. Our vessel draws water, whereupon we fire two shots as signals of distress; but no care was taken about us, because the wind had become a little stronger, and we make about a mile; before, we had scarcely made half a mile in the hour. We sail, therefore, “Alla kerim,” behind the others, although the water visibly rises in the hold, and we have not even pumps. We halt, about five o’clock, at the corner, where the river goes from S.S.W. to E.N.E. Here we have an extensive view of the scenery, an immeasurably flat country, with yellow grass, which seems to have been merely overflowed a little by the water, although the shores are only two feet high. Numberless ant-hills stand around. In the background we remark a forest without shade. A German prince said to Ahmed Basha in Kahira, “I have found forests here, but no shade in them.”
Two negroes greet and make signs to us, but in vain, for they do not bring oxen, and we have already to-day distrained ten. At half-past five o’clock we left this place, and sailed E.N.E. into a canal, scarcely fifty paces broad, having on the right an ambak-thicket, with a fore-ground of aquatic grass, and on the left a margin of reeds. This last is said to belong to an island, but we do not observe there either tree or shrub. After sunset, from E. to S.; then again eastward, and lastly S.S.W. The wind again becomes very slack; therefore rowing and singing, contention and strife, among the crew, who get one before the other. A short bend to N., but a bad sandy point of land for oars and poles. The wind blows from S.W., and we sail E. by S., and still somewhat N.E., when it again slackens, and we are obliged to torment ourselves in an E.N.E. direction.
We come here unexpectedly upon four rivers, according to the expression of the Arabs. The Nile separates into two arms, into those in which we had come, and in those which we had left to N.W., and afterwards at our back; again it splits into two arms above, of which the smaller one ascends upwards to E. and our arm to E.N.E. The island, the lower portion of which we saw this morning at seven o’clock, is therefore confirmed by the arm flowing away to N.W.
Baùda! Baùda! Everyone is fanning and striking off the gnats, especially in Suliman Kashef’s vessel, where the crew have armed themselves with the corollas of the giant rushes, to be used as fans. The east wind is faint, the sky cloudy, and always Libàhn to N.E. till nine o’clock. A floating island wheeled our ship round, anchor and all; this also frequently happens at night. Thermometer 18°, 25°, 28°, and 23° Reaumur.
2nd January.—Selim Capitan now asserts that he navigated, in the first expedition, this arm of the Nile in which we are at present. That arm, from which, three days ago, we returned at night, would be, according to this statement, a tributary, or an arm, ending when the water falls in a cul-de-sac. But where is now the Muts, which was pointed out to us as a nearer Nile arm, and the beginning of which ought to have shewn itself?—for we saw already the mouth of it yesterday morning near the village of Bonn. At ten o’clock we go, by the rope, to E. by S.
On the right, to the west, we remark an arm of the Nile, which can be no other than the commencement of the little one seen yesterday evening, pouring itself yonder from the east, when we were going E.N.E. It is a wonder that the Nile does not divide into far more arms in these level regions; although it may be presumed with certainty that many gohrs are lost in the reeds, or slink again to the river, without being visible by us. The stream goes from here S.E. and E., and we halt S.E. on the right shore. The river appears again to separate in front of us.
I cannot help laughing when I hear the Reïs say to the lazy sailors, “Are you Muslems or Christians?” in order to tickle their sense of honour. Yet Nazrani is more a contemptuous expression for the Christian Rajahs than for Europeans, who are called Franks; although they abuse Arnaud and his vessel, by way of pre-eminence, with the title of “Nazrani,” because his conduct towards the men is very forbidding. From one to five o’clock in continued serpentine movements between S. and E. At half-past five o’clock, some minutes S.W. by S., and then again in an easterly direction. Throughout the day I was hot, languid, and sleepy, which I looked upon as the forebodings of fever, to which my three servants had already succumbed. Now I dread the night, and an incessant yawning gives me no sweet foretaste of the future.
We work over the shallows from W. by S. to E.N.E., and sail lastly, after sunset, at half-past six o’clock, slowly in a bend to E.S.E., and immediately W.N.W., and in eight minutes S.S.E. We tried, by using oars, poles, and sails, to get to N.E., and then halted. Here we saw to the N.E. an arm of the Nile flowing to S., the mouth of which we ought to have seen yesterday, and it may therefore probably be the Muts. Subsequently, when all had gone to sleep, a violent habùb threw the ship on shore; but the wind soon veered to our advantage. Thermometer 18°, 26°, to 28°, and 25°.
3rd. January—This morning a thick mist, and the hygrometer 92°. In the early part, towing to E.S.E. We sail at eight o’clock with a still changeable north wind to S.S.E., and about nine o’clock to S. Here, on the right low shore, where stands some scanty grass, flows a small canal to the left into the plain to the N.E., and leads probably to a shallow lake or a low ground, discharging its water in this way. The negroes, who appear to me to be generally vigorous Icthyophagists, have established a fishing weir here at the entrance of this outlet. It consists of a double row of strong stakes, having between them a deep hole and two openings to let in the fish. We see by the fresh earth thrown up, that this canal is cleaned out. Probably the natives take the fish retreating with the water subsiding, and emptying itself into the Nile, in these passes formed with stakes, by means of baskets, and the larger ones by harpoons. No tree, and scarcely any ambaks in the shape of green hills, are seen.