We go, after a short halt, to the right shore, where there is a large cattle village, with many sleeping-places and plastered bee-hives, or tokuls, their tops being lightly covered with straw or reeds: large herds there. We navigate, with the stern of the vessel foremost, although the captain is on deck, towards N.N.W., and shall halt immediately at the left shore near a little pastoral village. The red colour of the large heaps of ashes arises only from the burnt cows’ dung. 3 o’clock. Selim Capitan has just returned after a long voyage downwards. No water; therefore libàhn again, back into the gohr traversed previously. I procured to-day, from the herdsmen, four heavy breakers of beads or hassaeis of ebony, without ornament; and I see also here old woollen morions, of which I possess already one specimen. The Frenchmen still keep their windows hung with curtains or closed, so as not to be disturbed by the exterior world. At half-past four o’clock we are so fortunate as to enter our old gohr E.S.E., and come soon to the old encampment (I am again ill, as I was then,) turn the bow foremost, go N.W., and stop at sunset to N. at the left shore. I purchase a miserable little stool, which is rare here, from the Elliàbs.
15th February.—I have received, from Selim Capitan, a Bohr, as drogman, but he will do nothing at first, for he is too hungry. The river flows at half-past six, and up to seven o’clock, continually to N., with declinations to N.W., where a small island appears on the right. Again N.; on the left a large pastoral village of the name of Uadir, belonging to the Elliàbs, or as our Bohrs call them, Alliababe. The Bohrs possess the right shore, between whom and the Elliàbs eternal war prevails. N.N.W.: on the left a little island. Half-past seven o’clock. Over the dry straw of the shore on the left green copse is sprouting, the tree-tops of the neighbouring forest. Some drops of rain fell to-night on Feïzulla Capitan’s fiery brandy-nose, as if on a hot stone, while he was sleeping on deck; now, also, I feel some drops on my cool, pale nose. A fine prospect! for neither are our corn magazines well covered, nor our cabins air-tight above, thanks to Selim Capitan’s negligence. From N.N.E. immediately again N.N.W. Eight o’clock. Right and left a forest, preceded by a narrow border of the shore. A little island on the right displays its green margin of reeds and creepers, as we see in all of them. We halt at the sandy right shore: the left is fertile soil, which is also the case on the right, though only for a short tract. Suliman Kashef’s mallem was buried here the preceding year, and Suliman visited now his grave under the trees. Opposite to us lies the tolerably large pastoral village of Kelagò, a portion of which only I draw, because it is like all the others. Thibaut also has applied himself to the ivory trade; he has just acquired three elephants’ teeth. Half-past nine o’clock. Away to N. and N.W.; at ten o’clock, a small pastoral village on the left, with ash-grey people. The forest extends at one side, and was refreshing to us, with its various tints of green. Here and there the sun breaks through the clouds, and casts picturesque gleams of light around; I can even enjoy it, for I feel myself again better after the very strong perspiration I had in the night.
The Bohrs have lines on their foreheads like the Elliàbs, not waved, however, like the latter, but straight, and also broader. The drogman has five, which appear to consist of double lines. A quarter after ten o’clock, N.N.W.; to the left an islet, with flowering creepers and reeds. We are welcomed with a song, for this is the usual custom with the tribes below Bari. One leads the choir, and the chorus joins continually with “jok, jok, are o jok;” but they have several refrains, among which their “abande jok” should not be forgotten. At eleven o’clock N., uninterruptedly, like our direction, with the former deviations to W. and E., the eternal enumeration of which would only be tiresome. I know enough of the previous ascent to be able to control my French companions. We stop at half-past twelve o’clock at the right shore by the Haba, and push off at half-past one again to N.N.W. The nation of the Bors, or Bohrs, is likewise poor, and nothing was to be purchased from them but some teeth, which Matta Selim Capitan appropriated to himself. The tribes hitherto seen have, on the whole, the same sort of weapons, although some arms are only similar; everywhere we see solitary spears, similar to those of Bari. It seems generally that all iron work is manufactured in that country, according to the taste of the different tribes, which is frequently indeed very bad, and sent away from thence; many, however, may have been introduced by intercourse with nations dwelling at their side. It is a cool north-west wind.
Thermometer, Sunrise 23° to 24°. Noon 27°. A quarter of an hour later an island five minutes long shews itself to the left in the middle of the river. We go N.N.W. At the foot of this island, another one, small and low, and, as it appeared to me at first, cultivated; but this, however, was not subsequently confirmed. Our course passes between yellow and light-green copse and other trees. Only here and there, there is still a dome-palm, quite small or young; yet they probably serve for the canoes here, for I observed several of these boats on the shore. Two o’clock. N.W. An island in the centre of the river which we leave at our right; then N.N.W. I have convinced myself, by new ant-hills, that these insects, which are somewhat larger here than the common ant, raise the earth from a depth where it is entirely wet, black, and without admixture of sand (such as on the level of the Nile, and in its neighbourhood), to make their buildings durable. On the other hand, I remember the fallen-down craters of the ant-hills among the Dinkas. It is now evident to me that they openly seek a protection against the weather by getting under the trees when there are any in their neighbourhood. The shores shew here already a little oxyde earth. Half past two o’clock. From N.N.E. to N., whereupon we halt at the right shore; for the Frenchmen want to go hunting.
16th February.—Thermometer yesterday evening, 24°; this morning, 19°. I made an excursion into the interesting forest: it lies upon slightly-elevated sandy bottom, on which the dome-palms do not grow so luxuriantly as in the country of the Tshièrrs, where I counted sixty lances on one leaf, whilst here there are only from forty-two to forty-six. I had preserved previously a vegetable, though not knowing the nature of its root: here the sailors grubbed up some of the same sort, and I saw tubers on them three feet and a quarter thick, running towards the upper part to a round form, but appearing to branch out below like enormous roots. Slender roots shoot from these main tubers, and on them rises an insignificant-looking vegetable, a foot high, covered at the top with small oval pale-green leaves, like those of the box-tree: the clusters of gossamer-flowers are of a yellowish colour. It is called “Irg-el-moje” (water-root)—in Nuban, “Otto;” is very full of juice, but of a nauseous, sweet taste, and is sold in Kahira. The suckers, properly speaking, must by virtue of the soil here, go to a great depth. Our liquorice tastes perhaps better, owing to its dryness. The large specimens were cut to pieces and torn, by reason of their softness, and in consequence of the greediness of our crew, who are like children, and yet laugh at the blacks. I took a specimen for myself. The beautiful red peas or vetches were also found. This vegetable was gathered; but no one at first knew the foliage, until I discovered at last a few slender tendrils of vetches, which were still green, and hung together with the dry peas in the pods, which were burst open. The blacks and men of Belled Sudàn make use of them as an ornament. They are small, hard, and rough, like beads, have a black eye, with a white and scarcely visible line, and are called hap-el-arùss (bride-grain). I have in my possession several of them. The anduràb or enderàb, a large tree with willow-like laciniated bark, is very common here: it has little green clusters of flowers on its lower branches, hanging in wild disorder; small round fruit, at present green, and willow-like, yet truncated leaves. Besides many other trees, such as talles, geïlids, and others, there is also a very large tree, now thoroughly leafless, deserving notice, from its short prickles, and little apples. Mariàn tells me that it has small round leaves, which make their appearance in the hariff, together with a white flower, and that it is called, in the Nuban language, dakuin. The fruit is not eaten, but gathered green, and strung round the necks of children, as a preventive against fever and other diseases.
We do not perceive grass anywhere, and therefore there are not any cattle or human beings; but there may be, perhaps, many wild beasts. Wild buffaloes, as I had been assured previously in the upper Haba, and several of which animals Suliman Kashef and Capitan Mohammed Agà, the Arnaut, with the halberdiers of the former, pretend to have seen, are said to be frequently found here, and larger than those of Egypt. We are more inclined to believe this assertion, because it is well known to all our blacks that such beasts often appear among the Shilluks, Hassanïes, and elsewhere. This animal is called “Gamùs el galla.”
This morning, unfortunately, a soldier was stabbed by a Bohr with a spear, because, as I suspect, he was about to take it away from the latter according to the favourite Belesh manner, that is, without paying for it. We were magnanimous, and did not take any revenge on another Bohr, who was dragged to us instead of the proper criminal. So likewise I see the voluntary slaves of Selim Capitan chained together on the shore. At one o’clock we leave our beautiful landing-place. On the left a little village appears, then also a Haba; but it is too scantily furnished with trees, and soon retreats ashamed before the magnificent forest opposite. After some minutes a reed island divides the river. Then we proceed with W.N.W., our sails swollen by the east wind, and leave it to the right whilst we go more westerly, but soon again N. The burning of the reeds has an unpleasing effect to the eye, but the country rises new-born like a phœnix from the ashes. The island is fifteen minutes long. Half-past one o’clock. From N.E. by E. to W. by S. A hamlet in the Haba to the right of the shore, which is here high and precipitously disrupt, owing to the narrow pass, lies picturesquely. A quarter before two o’clock, N.W., on the right a little island. At two o’clock from N.E. to N.W. in the bend, but the Haba has disappeared. A quarter after two o’clock N.N.E.; on the right an island ten minutes long. At the end of it N.E.; on the left an old village containing tokuls with six to seven indentations on the roofs. The Haba, with several dhellèbs, has approached us on the avulsed high shore; it shews the genuine marks of the ancient or high shores. Half-past two o’clock, near the bend to N.W.; on the right many dhellèbs, which are not, however, of remarkable appearance, especially as the lower dry branches are upon them. A quarter before three o’clock. From the short E.N.E. tract to N.N.W. The forest on the right rises upon sandy deposits of downs, somewhat in the form of a hill. The sand was once deposited, perhaps, by an unusual inundation, on the underwood, and has remained there since that time. The shores are still intermixed with ochre here and there. A glistening long course before us towards N.N.W., such as we had not had for a long time, with the exception of the small inlets right and left; also a little island there. Thermometer 19° and 29° to 30°. Three o’clock. The Haba has retreated, yet N.N.W. On the left a small tokul village as before; immediately under it to the right E.N.E. and W.N.W., again a forest, the only break of the monotonous shores, islands, and villages. A quarter after three o’clock. From a short westerly direction to N.N.W. We halt at the right shore; perhaps Selim Capitan’s vessel draws water—yet, no; the French gentlemen had not come up.
A quarter after four o’clock: off again, and we go N.E. On the right side Bohrs, and on the left Elliàbs. Half-past four o’clock, N.W. The Haba on the right rises on downs; we see dome-palms also on it, but upon firm, dark earth, whilst the sand lies only on the surface. Moreover, these dome-palms are considerably higher than the dhellèbs. Violent storms cannot take place in these regions; I have never seen a single tree torn up by the wind. A quarter before five o’clock, from N.E. to N.N.W. The Haba remains and consoles us more than sufficiently for the arid shore, although green reeds and weeds struggle up here and there, and strike the roots deep into the vivifying water.
To N.N.W., a long row of tokuls appears in parade before us, without any other background than the horizon. On the right a narrow arm goes to E., and places the barren tokul-city on an island. In the bend from N.W. to W. The tokuls have, in part, the screen mentioned before, as the entrance; the sleeping-places in the neighbourhood are built of new reeds, and sixty tokuls without sleeping-places, and huts join them. This place, inhabited by Bohrs, is called Jemàhl. Immediately to the left also, by N.W, a tokul-village opposite; the lower walls, being proportionably high, are partly plastered with Nile slime. The knowledge of my drogman Joi is already at an end: he does not know the name of this long village, lying on the margin of the river like a crescent. Five o’clock from S.W. to N.E. by N. I remark the circumference of a red cone of ashes in the centre part of the broken shore: the reeds brush the vessel, and some of them fall on the plank before my window.
That custom of dung-fires for the encampment of the herds already mentioned, appears very ancient; for the earth deposited by the river lies from three to four feet high near them. About sunset we stop, on account of good neighbourhood, near a pastoral village on the right shore, where the river winds to N. The goats and sheep jump from the vessels with delight to the green grass on the shore. We hoped to get some oxen here, but not any were brought us.