Eight o’clock.—We have felled wood, brought it on board, and continue our voyage by towing. The river soon forms an angle from S.S.E. to W.S.W. but it is only to go immediately again to S.S.E. As we remarked on the shore, the water now visibly falls. Selim Capitan and Arnaud cannot conceal their fear at having to surmount these obstacles, so as not to be devoured by the natives on our return voyage, which they would rather now commence. Such shallows are certainly disagreeable; but as they merely occupy certain tracts, it is only necessary, surely, to leave behind a portion of the freight on the other vessels, and to fetch them afterwards by degrees: this is evident, even to the commander. Sandbanks stretch from hence to the middle of the river. At nine o’clock to S.; on the left an island. The wood continues cheerfully on the right shore; on the left, however, it has disappeared. Half-past nine o’clock, S.S.W., and on the left a village.
The shores are strata of mixed humus, and the sand layer is quite clear. I remarked on the lower margin of a steep and broken shore a stratum of burnt reeds, and the intersection of a large hill of ashes, which proves clearly, like the tombs in the rocks of Silsili, in Egypt, that the stream here also sunk deeper formerly. The custom of making beds on the ashes is, therefore, very ancient, and the burning of the reeds is compelled by necessity. We halt near a village of about forty tokuls, and again wait for meat. There were only a few people to be seen, who stood, or squatted there quietly: at last they collected together, and formed a large column. Stretching up their hands in the air, holding a reed, or an ambak-tree, which is as light as a cork, though it looks like a fearful club, they made short quick marches up and down, and a sudden simultaneous facing about, in honour of us. The women ran behind this chorus, shouting and screaming as in Germany.
About eleven o’clock we set out to S.W. by S. A gohr cuts off an island equally narrow, overgrown with grass, at our left hand. At the head of the little island the river winds to S. On the right here is a pastoral village. At twelve o’clock, S.E. by E., and round the left by S.E. The north-east wind freshens a little, and we go without libàhn, if not quicker, yet more comfortably. A large semicircle is formed, and we go, at half-past twelve o’clock, from an easterly direction again to S.W. On the left shore, a troop of some twenty negroes squat, holding cows and calves for us by a cord. Beads are dear to them above everything. These blameless Ethiopians will not even receive gold and silver, the chimerical value of which they know not; and it is only stupidity that laughs at them in pity.
From the mast:—two pastoral villages behind the right shore; four more farther on, before the Haba, which forms a semicircle. The forest makes its appearance again before us, on both sides of the river. The latter separates into two arms, each having directly about two hundred paces in breadth; these form a little island, which we leave at our right side. The island is full of high sprouting plants and vegetables, between blooming shrubs. At one o’clock we arrive S.E. by E., and with E. to the point of the island. On the precipitous shores stand the different kinds of trees; among them the doum-palms, poison, and elephant-trees, are particularly distinguished, in picturesque confusion.
The left shore forms here at the corner, where the river winds S.W., a strip of sand, cutting into the river-bed, here only about one hundred and fifty paces broad, and on account of this we are obliged to sail close to the right shore. However, the river increased again immediately to S. W., up to three hundred paces in breadth. On the right also the Haba approaches, having but few trees, but before us it is well covered, and extends to the border of the stream itself. Five miserable tokuls stand under a large shady tree, which imparts a peculiar effect to the spot by its unusual masses of shade in this land of the sun. Some natives are sitting quietly under it, and seem to be fishermen. Two o’clock, S.S.E. We have the point of an island covered with reeds, in the middle of the river. Although I dread the mid-day sun after yesterday’s attack, which reminds me of a similar one in Taka, yet I venture upon deck, and see an island on the left. The arm embracing it has already shrunk to a large pool, and behind are the old or high shores, overlaid by sloping, grass-covered rubbish, as with a green mat. Where these shores formerly fell away steep into the water, they were twenty feet high, and were still raised in a similar angle towards the interior. The shores of the island are also about eight feet high, and I can easily calculate this, the shores being so close, for we have a plumb-line on board.
At three o’clock we advance close to the left shore, to let the men dine, for we have only laid aside the rope for a very short time, in consequence of the slack wind. The river becomes narrow at the corner, S.S.E., where it turns to the right. I also remark here again one of those gohrs, which, being from two to three feet high, conduct the high water, as canals, over the present water-mark, through the low country, because the river-bed is clearly too narrow—its shores being elevated here on both sides to two gradations—to carry away the whole mass of the White Stream, at the time of its inundation. We have also again the pleasing sight of the herds going to the river, over the ridge of sand, which must be considered at these high shores, as a road to the water. Eight white, well-fed calves, being the last, went away, to my astonishment, unmolested, our men not taking it into their heads to seize them. There is no leaving off at noon to dine, but one-half of the crew eats whilst the other tows the ship. About three o’clock we work away over the shallows, and at last the temptation cannot be resisted of taking some calves on board.
Four o’clock. We have the sand-banks behind us, to our good fortune, and we go S.S.W. The Haba close on the right shore, where we noticed six summer-houses and a gohr, eight feet above the water, is now separated from us about two hundred paces by a low country exposed to the inundations. The left old shore, with its generally scanty wood, has drawn close to the river itself, and is only ten to twelve feet high. Now, perhaps, the river will remain enclosed in the very narrow limits of the old shores, and not make these arbitrary serpentine windings, giving the result of a vast development of streams, but placing an incredible obstacle in the road to our pressing forward to the sources of the Nile themselves. We land at five o’clock, even before sun-set, on the left shore, for the men can go on no more, having laboured the whole day at the libàhn; the hoisted sails, therefore, are as good as useless, though they may have appeared very imposing to the natives.
A number of ash-grey people have collected near the village, and their chief is invested magnificently because he is to give ivory. From the elevated shore we see far in the low country, where the smoke appeared like a large lake. I was to suffer to-night for having exposed myself in the day, for a short time, to the heat of the sun. The sinking sun seemed to make my hair stand on end in a peculiar manner, and to set every single hair en rapport with its rays. I could scarcely return to the vessel.
12th January.—Happy those who have enjoyed a refreshing sleep to-night! I could not get any, and yet was so weary; fantastic forms plagued me the whole night; there is a restlessness in my nervous system, so that I get little comfort. Yet I brush up my strength, and write my journal; but I find it difficult, and cannot do much.
Before day-break, when some wind shewed itself, we set out, but again at sun-rise, the cry is “Libàhn.” S.S.E. At our left, the islands seen yesterday, the first of which is small, the second may be half an hour long. The wood stands on both sides upon the shore, which is twelve to fifteen feet high, in lively freshness and variety of colours. Mist is hovering about, and clouds prevent the sun from appearing.