5th January.—At sunrise we sail E.S.E., and see immediately, on the right shore, a herdsman’s, or man’s village, to which a woman’s village, with thirty-three regular tokuls, joins, and where I saw seven sürtuks lying behind the houses. We wait again for cattle above the village, and I remark among the crowd of people our dear and faithful sheikh of Dim, or Dièm, who seems to wish to accompany us through his kingdom: he is very easily recognised among the ash-coloured men, even from a distance, by his red shirt. Not to offend the good people, we went ashore again. The majority of the Keks still wear their ivory rings round the upper part of the left arm, and likewise have only one hole in their ear. They made their appearance here without weapons; but brought, however, clubs of ebony, decreasing in thickness towards the top and bottom, fluted, and about two inches thick in the middle. In order to grasp them more firmly, there was not only a thong of leather for the grip, but also a ring of skin, or of the inside bark of a tree, woven around the handle. I saw here a pair of felt caps, rising to the top in the form of a bomb, and thick enough to ward off a blow from a club. This is the second time that I have seen a covering for the head exactly similar to the cap of the ancient Egyptian priests. These children of men have, however, a dreadful and truly horrible appearance, for the face, through the black patches of perspiration and the white crust of ashes, is like black-veined marble; although the form of the body, generally six feet high, and even of the head, notwithstanding the mouth projects a little among the generality of them, is not at all amiss; yet, perhaps, on the whole, it may be a little clownish.

At eight o’clock we advance with libàhn farther to E.; then the Nile winds to the right, and we are, at nine o’clock, S.E. Here we see on the right shore a gohr, that may be compared to a large millbrook. The negroes seem to consider this gohr as a boundary where they can see us once more and wish us farewell. Yet there is only one who lays his hands crossways on his shoulders, bends his body forward, and lets it fall upon his knees. This truly has a very humble appearance, and may be an Ethiopian bow. We have already lost the charm of novelty in the eyes of the people: they see that we eat and drink like themselves, and, by the bye, rob and steal; that everything suits us which is of great value amongst them, and that they must content themselves with a few beads when once the booty is in Turkish or Arabian hands. If we consider this nation, we start the question, how is it possible that it could have remained from eternity in this primitive grade of civilisation? From what mountains have they descended? The surface of the earth here is scarcely even now capable of receiving and supporting colonies of such a nature; perhaps their earlier settlements were beyond the old shores in the Gallas and Habas.

Whilst we come slowly up the river, the negroes remain standing right and left on the shore; they do not sing and jump, and we remark no astonishment in their faces. The next question which they put to themselves may perhaps be, “What do these strangers want here? What can they wish but our riches?” Let us ask the first best Turk or Arab what are we doing here? He knows not; he does not comprehend the aim of such an expedition, where there is no robbery, no plunder, no kidnapping. Turks do not think that any colonisation is possible, for their own country is already too extensive for them, and will remain so, indeed, till a perfect regeneration of it by conquering nations. Immeasurable tracts of land lie here vacant and uncultivated; but only the negro, baked as he is, can stand the heat of the sun. He must, however, sacrifice to the climate the greatest number of his teeth; this alone shews the diseases peculiar to the marsh regions.

It is surprising that I nowhere see any elephants’ tusks, though said to be so common here. About half past ten o’clock, S.S.E. On the right a lake, running tolerably even with the river, narrow at its southern point, more than an hour long, and three-quarters of an hour broad. The Haba, with its videttes of old shores behind, draws nearer before us. The right shore is a vast semicircle, circumscribed by isolated trees, with many green grass-plats, pools, ambaks, and a kind of acacia, with yellow clusters of flowers, like the gold-rain of the laburnum. To judge from the many pools, the river does not appear yet to have receded entirely, although the nearest shore-land is already burnt away, right and left. We sail half an hour, but the northern wind is too faint, and we come to its assistance by towing. The stream is about five hundred paces broad, and does not seem here to receive any tributaries.

A number of birds of prey pursue our vessels, in order, by a bold attack, to seize the meat strung on lines. We know, even at a distance, when a village is deserted, because it is immediately taken possession of by these legions of the air, and rummaged in all corners, in a very impudent manner. The natives on both shores have here directly at hand another free and worthy position. A long village, on the right shore, was by way of a joke called Dennap (tail). The first group consisted of thirty-five tokuls, on elevated ground; we only saw there old women and two old men. Our sailors, who were towing, immediately shot at the vultures whirling round over us through the village—forced open the doors of the huts, made of reeds or animal skins, and stole the hides lying there for beds, and whatever else was near. My loud abuse and threats brought them, however, into something like reason. This tokul group was followed by a double and threefold row of tokuls, about one hundred and twenty in number, on the high border of the river; therefore it had the appearance of an artificial dam, but may perhaps have been elevated gradually by the rudera of the tokuls themselves. A herdsman’s village joined on to the tokuls, numbering only thirty-one huts, and some square sheds, the flat reed-roofs of which were covered with earth and ashes. Negroes sat under them to be protected from the sun, and allowed us quietly to draw near, without making “Fantasie,” as our men wished. We stop near the village till three o’clock: its inhabitants appear mostly to have fled. We then advance for a time libàhn, and halt again, without any object.

At five o’clock we again advance to the south, for the natives do not shew themselves. On the left we notice one, and on the right two, lakes. We see, from the mast, at the distance of a quarter of an hour, a lake of an hour long, and half of that in breadth; and some hundred paces at the side of the left shore, a lake, not broad, but, judging from the green grass, about two hours’ long. Behind, towards the west, another lake shews itself, on the margin of which the Haba recedes about an hour and a half; and behind us also, on the left shore, a third lake to N.W. In front, towards S.S.W., a lake, behind which another, in S.S.W., in the obtuse angle formed by the river there to the right shore; therefore, at one glance we observed five lakes on the left shore, joining, very certainly, at high-water, and taking up an enormous space. There is no tree to be seen on the left to announce the far-distant right shore; yet a margin of wood shews itself in the distance on the left from E.S.E. to W. The air appears to be clearer, for I see the smoke, in many places, ascending straight up. At sunset we have the lake at our side, which lies, at five o’clock, S.S.W. of us, and behind it another strip of water flashes up in the south. From S. we go again in a semicircle to E. and N.E., and immediately again southward. We sail, indeed, since five o’clock, but have made, deducting the water-course, which has gradually got up again to a mile in rapidity, scarcely half a mile in the hour. At seven o’clock, E.N.E., and at eight o’clock S. by E., and soon afterwards from W.S.W. to S. and S.E. to E., from E. to S.W., E.S.E., and N.E., sometimes with the sails, sometimes libàhn, equally quick, for the north wind is very slack. In the level extensive arch, S. by W. to S.S.W., at last we halt at the corner, where the river winds to N.E. A large lake twinkles here on the left shore. The river retains, generally, a breadth of about five hundred paces; its depth is here two fathoms and a half. This seldom amounts to more than three, and was to-day, in one part, only two fathoms.

Nevertheless, the river always contains a large quantity of water, for the shores, precipitous and deep, nearly fall away in a right angle. It is surprising that we have not yet found a flint, or any other stone, in the Nile sand. The Mountains of the Moon must therefore be still far distant from us. The thermometer, at sunrise, 20°, at ten o’clock 26°, at twelve o’clock 27°, and rose till three o’clock to 29°. After sunset, 26°, a heat too great for me, as I was not well; although I had borne, at Khartùm, on the shores of the Blue river, a heat of 42° to 45° throughout the hot days; and was subsequently to endure, in the city of Sennaar, for three days, at three o’clock in the afternoon, 48° Reaumur.

6th January.—The Haba goes to the east, under the horizon, in the position in which we cast anchor this morning to S.S.W. It seems, therefore, that we shall approach again the firm line of the left old shore, by surprising windings; for the right has been unfaithful. Nothing is to be seen of it except the high bed of the primitive river, or a valley watered by the stream, partly laid on dry ground, over which the Nile flows, from time to time, with its waves, or rolls here and there into it at its pleasure. We proceed with libàhn around the corner mentioned, to N.N.E., but, after a short time, with a sharp wind, to E.S.E., where the river is remarkably contracted. An hour from the left shore is a large lake, wherein are fishermen; close to us a large fish-pond. The stream has, by the choking up and alteration of its bed, left behind numberless such fish-ponds, in a greater or smaller degree. The Icthyophagi only need for the in and out letting of the Nile water, to keep open the canals connected with the stream, so as to have continually an abundance of fish. From E.S.E. we go in a shallow bend again to S.E., where we spread sails.

Now, at eight o’clock, again in this circle, to S.W. by W., and we came in this manner closer to the old wood, as I had previously conjectured. The river appears really by this means to wish to keep more to the left old shore; for even the right side of the reeds is here generally higher than the left. It is clear, and the evidence of the eye-sight teaches us, that the shores, in almost all places where old or choked-up water-courses do not run into the land, are remarkably higher than the surface of the earth immediately behind, as is plainly perceived in the stream territory of the United Nile, which has been cultivated for thousands of years. The latter especially struck me when, on my return to Egypt, I met with newly dug canals, which were yet without bridges, and their banks so sloping, that I was often obliged to ride up towards the mountains or along their channel. The bed of the canal was always lower up the country, although it lay on an equal line with the mouth of the Nile. This rise in the bed of the stream exactly explains here, as well as in Egypt, the inundations. They form then, in connection with the tropical rains, numberless sloughs, ponds, and lakes, which must collect and completely evaporate in these long basins, were they not artificially diverted by the natives for the purpose of fishing, through incisions in the shore-dams, when the Nile falls.

Half-past eight o’clock. From S.W. by W. we go in the circle on to S., E., N. to N.W. by W., where we lay-to at ten o’clock. It only wanted 85° of a perfect circle. From this gyration, forwarding but little our journey, we go in a bend to N., and then to E. A gentle north wind sets in, called even by the crew, Hauer badlàhn (faint wind). My good countryman, who ought to refresh me again, is really extremely weak, and deserts us entirely in a quarter of an hour. Suddenly the wind blows against us from the south; and it would be an evil thing for our voyage if south winds should now set in, although we must not expect constancy in the winds in these equatorial regions of Central Africa, judging from our present experience of them. Eleven o’clock, to S.E.; twelve o’clock, S.S.E. A city with several tokuls seems to obstruct our road, and, as it were, to invite us.