6th February.—Yesterday the doubtful river was indeed investigated, but only for a very short distance, for the wind was contrary, and the sailors and soldiers murmured loudly, because they knew that this intermediate voyage, which threatened to delay their arrival in Khartùm, arose from the Franks. Under such circumstances, even the expressions of the natives of the country cannot be depended upon, for our black soldiers can translate just what pleases them. At first the river was said to come from the mountains above, and now they make it take its origin as a gohr near the Liènns. We had an interpreter with us, who is familiar with its shores, and who returned to us at this opportunity. When he also confirmed the new assertion, the further examination was provisionally given up after a course of about an hour long. Where it flows down N.W. by N., we turned round and navigated W. by N. out of it back to our encampment. The projecting shore had deceived me, therefore, when previously passing by, with respect to the direction of this arm of the Nile. It is called Kiehr, which is the often-heard kir (water), thence Kirboli, Kirti, Kiti. There is therefore no doubt that the name of the White Stream, the main arm of which is called also here Kir-Te, is originally Te, from Barì to Khartùm, for it is even called Te Uri by the Nubas, the former word not being used for drinkable water. The country of these four arms of the Nile is called Kofon, corresponding to the Arabic mogren (conflux).
I repaired this morning on board Selim Capitan’s vessel, and shall remain with him to-day, on account of his interpreter. It was not till this morning that it was at last determined to follow further the questionable arm of the Nile, which we navigated for a short tract the day before yesterday. Seven o’clock. We leave our landing-place, and proceed up the Kièhr in a westerly direction. After a quarter of an hour the latter serves as a gohr to N., appearing soon to disembogue itself into the stream, which we navigated previously.
We go some paces here S.W., where quite a little island, with high reeds, rises in the middle of the river. From W. to S.W., from W. to N.W. The Kièhr seems to be rapid at its tide, and to exercise great force: we see it by the torn and indented shores, and especially by the devastations on a little gohr, now dry. Half-past seven o’clock. A broad gohr flows away to N., and winds immediately N.W. Our river, which increases considerably in breadth above this Nile arm, winds W.S.W., and S.W. Before us a large forest; near it we halt immediately afterwards.
At eight o’clock, a north-wind gets up, and we sail S.S.W., and S. by E.; after a quarter of an hour, S.W., and W., and with a short bend, immediately to S. Right and left pastoral villages, with lowing herds and natives on the ant-hills. The huts have the form of a bee-hive, are five to six feet high, and plastered with Nile slime. The ash-grey people dance and jump, and want to keep us by force. The women run and sing by us, their hands thrown over their heads in real despair because we will not stop. Half-past eight o’clock. S. by E. The depth of the water not more than a fathom. On the left a long summer village and a harim of several tokuls close to it. We halt a moment at the right shore, take the wood which the negroes had already brought for us to the shore, give them some sug-sug, and proceed. The women, with large leathern aprons, who have gone away empty-handed, jump and make gestures as if they were mad.
A quarter before nine o’clock, S. Clouds threatening rain. At the right the forest close at hand. E.S. On the right a large pastoral village, with plastered beehives, looking like the bakers’ ovens in the land of Sudàn. The cattle stand with their beautifully-twisted horns, close pressed together, and low at us, probably because they recognise us as deadly enemies, and would rather be in the meadow than waiting here for us. We do not halt for the sake of the oxen, but on account of the vessels stopping behind, although we ought to take advantage of the favourable wind, as the water is falling more and more. Elliàbs are there, who are unarmed, but yet immediately begin their war-dance. The vessels have, fortunately, not been stranded, and we sail on at nine o’clock. The village is called Kiùi or Quùi, and is the boundary of the Elliàbs on the right side of the river. After a quarter of an hour, E.S.E. Half-past nine o’clock, S.E. by S., and in a bend to S. A quarter before ten o’clock, S.S.E., and S.E., where, at the corner, the crocodiles make a great rustling in the shallow water, and seem to be engaged in violent combat. At ten o’clock, S.S.E.
I am again very weak to-day, and cannot yet recover myself, for I want a glass of good wine; every moment I sink back upon the cushion, and can scarcely hold a pen. The Haba accompanies us continuously at a slight distance from the right shore. A quarter after ten o’clock. From S.E. to S.W., and again to S.E. We see many crocodiles wallowing about in the water, who do not look at us in a very friendly manner. Half-past ten o’clock. From S.E. by S. to S.W. The hippopotami, thirteen in number, are crowded like smooth rocks in the water before us. They spout up the water from anger at still larger swimming animals approaching, as they may conceive our vessels to be, for it does not seem that they are in conflict amongst themselves, or that they want to take the field against the crocodiles, who are keeping behind us.
A little before eleven o’clock some armed ash-grey men shew themselves, without any ornaments, on the right shore. From S.W. by W. to S. by W. We halt at the right shore to receive some elephants’ teeth, but they are too old, and we bear off immediately again to S.E. In the forest at the right hand we perceive a number of birds and a considerable herd of gazelles, who stand in an attitude of curiosity like goats. Up to here the Elliàbs ran after us from the village of Kiùi. Half-past eleven o’clock. From S.E. by E. to S., yet not for long, but to the left S.E. At half-past twelve o’clock. We halt a second time at the right shore, owing to want of wood. I saw here a large oval shield of neat’s hide, held simply by a stick. It belonged to an Elliàb; these shields are said to be used more in contests with animals than in war. This is perhaps likewise the case with the few larger shields in the country of Bari.
At half-past one o’clock we navigate again to S.E., and a quarter before two to S. by E. We see that the forest lies lower than the shores, and that the water enters it. This local quality of ground is the case generally, perhaps, in the forests. Either they lie behind the dam of the old shore, which prevents the mass of waters of the periodical rains from flowing into the river, or the Nile enters through the chasms of the shores, if they do not lie in recesses or old river-beds, where the rain water collects and remains on the clayey substratum, which is the very same even as far as the mountains of Bari. How could it be possible else that these vigorous trees (the Tihl or elephant-tree is particularly seen here), should retain their magnificent verdure abstractedly from the atmospheric moisture.
Two o’clock. The thermometer this morning 18°, noon 26°, and now 27° Reaumur. From S. to S.S.E. and soon again to S. The north wind has slackened since noon; we navigate slowly, and must even content ourselves with libàhn, for no one has yet thought of taming river buffaloes to tow us in the water itself. Laughable as this may appear at the moment, yet I do not consider it impossible, for according to the crew, a young hippopotamus is as tame as a calf. The apothecary Laskaris possessed shortly before my arrival in Khartùm such a Nile calf. He wanted to make a vast sum of money by it, for they had offered in England a reward of some thousand pounds sterling to any one who would bring a live hippopotamus to London. It is well known that a living species has never yet been seen in Europe. His avarice did not allow him, however, to place the beast in some garden close to the Nile; nor did he provide a cow and fresh milk. He was even foolish enough to lower it into the cold cistern, where it died in a few days. Although this primitive animal was formerly indigenous in Egypt, yet now it very rarely descends over the cataracts to that country. Mohammed Ali had received such a beast as a present from Upper Nubia, which was kept for some years as a curiosity in a reservoir in the Nile at Bulak, the lower port of Kàhira.
Half-past three o’clock.—From S. to S.E. by S. On the right, in the badly planted Haba, the first doum-palms again, standing at the corner, which we pass by at a quarter before three, for a very short tract to S.S.W., and equally rapidly S.S.E., to go at three o’clock again S.S.W., and immediately to S. A half-finished tokul-village rises very humbly between some old low huts. There were here benches in the form of couches, which I had not yet seen on the White Stream, although I had not exactly regretted their absence. They consist of cudgels, and every single tokul has its seat of repose. Half-past three o’clock. From S.W. to S. by E. Near the doum-palms, we see also solitary and unusually high poison-trees in the forest, at the right hand. The country appears very little populated; perhaps a sign that we are really in a tributary arm or gohr. This was also the case even where the Kièhr disembogues near the Elliàbs. The scantier population may arise, in part, from the more recent lines of the shore being less constant. The solitary tokuls belong to fishermen, if we may judge from the sürtuks and fish-baskets set up. Four o’clock. From S. in a bend to S.E. On the left a long and miserable village stretches along the shore, with nine carcases of tokuls, and small tobacco-plantations. This appears also to be a village of fish-eaters.