The Kèks live here very comfortably, merely on the fish they catch; but with the exception of that, they are very poor. Yet they came as proudly to us with two goats as if they had brought twenty fat oxen. They do not seem to possess cows at all, and they may be perhaps the Icthyophagi of the enclosed lake. However, we got seven elephants’ teeth, the value of which they apparently did not know, by the assistance of our interpreter. The Kèk women let the hair grow a little: the lines on their forehead extend to behind their ears; but they are fine, and frequently invisible on account of the dirt.
Front and back aprons, as usual; at times, however, we see the little rahàt, or even the leathern apron over the rahàt, clearly a luxury, which the wife of Làkono also indulged in. Besides this, these women have a very charming appearance owing to their chewing tobacco. There is another couple of poor villages in the neighbourhood of this place, and the men are said to have fled from it, taking their oxen with them. A quarter before five o’clock we navigate at last to the north: the Haba retreats immediately to a distance. On the right a little pastoral village, from whence we receive the two goats mentioned above. A quarter after five, to the left, N.W. by W., where there is a Haba; soon afterwards to the right N.N.W. The higher shores have disappeared with the Haba. The whole surface is scarcely two feet above the river. On the right young reeds and reed-grass.
At this moment our vessel received from below a tremendous shock: the crew cry “Chamùss, chamàss!” and laugh; but they very soon put on a serious countenance, for the bottom of the vessel was already full of water. The barrels of gunpowder, grape-shot, and cartridge-boxes were taken out, five signals of distress having been first fired; and they were about to continue firing blank shot, for the water rushed in as if a leak were sprung, when the bold reïs Abdullah, a Kenùss (the reïs are generally all Kenùss, because they are well acquainted with the cataracts), went under the vessel with a ball of tow: this took place close to the shore, to which we were not able to approach within ten paces, and where there was still great depth and danger. The hole, however, was stopped by the brave and incessant exertions of some sailors and soldiers. I myself put out the fire on the hearth, and forbad smoking under the threat of instantly shooting any one who did so; for I was to act, in the absence of Feïzulla Capitan, as wokil: and at the same time I posted sentinels. The vessels sailing a-head did not stop at the signals we fired, although they were near enough to hear them; and we ourselves, then, at half-past six o’clock, navigated to N.N.W. Subsequently we go to the left, W.S.W., then to the right, where we halt, together with the other vessels, immediately in the bend at the left shore, at a former landing-place (matrag betal mutfa), after we had jostled our beak-heads together in the usual unskilful manner.
24th February.—Our vessel has a large hole, and we are obliged to be drawn by the prow upon the sand: all the goods were removed, but afterwards safely put on board. Sabatier makes the observations now, and Arnaud is said to be employed with the calculations, for which, therefore, we shall have to wait a long time. Several ostriches were seen yesterday by my servants and Suliman Kashef’s body-guard, without a single well-flavoured leg falling to our lot: they had remarked, also, an ape the size of a large dog. I asked whether it was a chirt, which species answers to our zoological ideas of the cynocephalus and cercopithecus; but they assured me that it was an abelènk, because it had a small head.
25th February.—A quarter before seven o’clock, to N.N.E., and slowly, N.E. by E. The thermometer, since three in the morning, at sunrise, has been but 17°; and did not rise from noon to three o’clock, above 29°. In the evening we see the sun disappearing in the dense atmosphere, which lies heavily on the whole of this country; and this morning it rose either from behind the mist, or covered with clouds. The evaporation from the neighbouring stagnant waters has an injurious effect upon the health of the crew, and consequently they are nearly all afflicted with a violent cough. The difference between this region and the clear mountain air and pure water of Bari is very great. The fogs here are seldom so thick as in Germany or England: but they penetrate through the skin, which has become sensitive from the heat, as, for example, this morning.
Seven o’clock.—N.N.W. On the left hand a large lake, close to us, in the green reeds, connected perhaps with the river, and indisputably an ancient bed of the river, cutting off the corner to the left, which we shall hereafter double. Half-past seven o’clock. N.W. We go till half-past eight o’clock in a northerly direction, and halt in N.N.W. at the scorched right shore. This is here six feet high, whilst, a hundred paces up the Nile, behind the young water-reeds, no elevation of the shores is observed. We remark no strata of earth on our shore, but clay and humus are closely mixed. At nine o’clock we navigate further, without the lust of our crew for meat being gratified, for the people seem to have driven away their goats, and they have nothing else. N.N.E. The north-east wind slightly retards our course. Half-past nine o’clock in a bend round the green couch-grass, N.N.W.; a short tract N.W. by W., and round the right to N.E., rowing strenuously; then, at a quarter before ten, to N.N.E. The wind becomes stronger, and all the singing in the world will not help us, if the river do not take a contrary direction, of which there is some appearance. Ten o’clock. N.N.W. We sail five miles. N.W. and W.N.W. A quarter after ten o’clock from W.N.W. in N. by W., where we were obliged, unfortunately, to furl the sails. Immediately beyond N. to N.N.E. Half past ten, N.N.W.; a quarter of an hour afterwards W., and round a short, verdant grass corner, from E.N.E. to E.S.E.
The ants are of the greatest service here, for they throw up the hills, which serve the people as watch-towers, from which they look for their strayed friends and cattle. Half-past eleven o’clock. W., and immediately, in a short tract, to N.N.E., and also to N.N.W., and directly again to the right—slowly, owing to the contrary wind. At twelve, N.E. by E. and E., where we halt at the right shore of the reeds, to wait for Selim Capitan. Two o’clock.—Set off to S.S.E. My men bring me three short-haired sheep in the sandal—a thing now seldom met with—and a motley, decorated gourd-shell. A quarter after two. From E. to the left, a short way to N.N.W., and again to the right N.N.E.; also, at half-past two, a few paces to N. by W. and N.N.E. Immediately round a sharp grass-corner S.S.E.; then, a quarter before three, in the bend beyond E. and N. to N.W. by W.; on the right, up the country, a large village, and W.S.W.; again a village in the neighbourhood. The river winds to the right, W. We have hoisted already our fore and after-sail, as if we had to go again N.E. with a contrary wind. In the bend to N.N.W., on the right, a village upon a little hill, which I sketched; then N. Half-past three. At the right a gohr, going to E., and then S. N.W. We halt immediately at the right shore.
26th February.—Departure at half-past eight o’clock, N.N.W. My three sheep, which were in the meadow on the shore, ran away whilst my men were cutting reeds, from which Venetian blinds are said to be made in Khartùm. We sail with a south-west wind, and make five miles. A quarter before nine o’clock, from N.W. to N.N.W. and W.N.W.; again to N.W. Nine o’clock N., a small tract to N.E., and in the bend shortly to N., when the sails are reefed. Half-past nine.—From W.S.W., for a short time in W.N.W. and N.; some large hippopotami shew themselves, and we begin now to fear for the vessel. We sail with five miles’ rapidity. A quarter before ten o’clock, N.N.E. Some negroes have just come to the left shore,—ashes their ornaments, ashes their clothing. Ten o’clock.—For a moment to S.W. by W., and shortly round the green corner of the right shore to N.N.W. This winding costs some trouble, for the wind blows the vessel right round. Half-past ten, W.N.W.—Ambak being still green as it nearly always is in this Holland kind of country, covers all the right side at a slight distance from the shore: in a little bend to N.N.W., then round an obtuse corner, W. by S. A quarter before eleven W., and in a wide bend to E. Eleven. Likewise from E. to N.W., then W.N.W. The shores are generally elevated only two feet above the water, wherein a grass margin intrudes; behind, every thing is burnt away, and therefore the ambaks are withered, unless they stand in a protecting marsh. A quarter before twelve.—N.W. on the left hand, a large and long-scattered village on a high tract, and a little upwards a considerable lake, with a similar village, connected with the Nile by a ditch. Natives squat on the shore and hold up their hands. Twelve o’clock. To N. A quarter after twelve from N. by E., in a bend N.W. The lakes, which I generally take to be old beds of the river, retaining water even in the dry season, are a proof that the primitive stream has gone far deeper, and that even the present bed of the river, with which they are partly connected, must have risen as well as the whole country; because, had it been otherwise, they would have ebbed away. Half past twelve.—From N.W. to N., N.N.E. and E. One o’clock.—S.E. in an arch to N., and round a little corner to N.W.; on the right a tokul-village. Half-past one o’clock N., and a quarter before two N.N.E., then on the left to W.S.W., and on the right to N.N.W. and N. by E.; at two o’clock further to N.N.E. and N.E. by E. A quarter after two, N.W. by N.; on the right a broad river arm coming from S.S.E. From the mast they tell me that it is a gohr cul-de-sac, and therefore an ancient bed of the stream filled up from below. We halt at the right shore, for Arnaud wants to survey it; but he lies down to sleep, and we bear off again without having effected our object. At a quarter after three, N.N.W., and directly round the right, E.N.E.; to the left a little W., and then N.N.W. and N.N.E. Four o’clock.—Again N.N.W. and W.S.W. The wind ceased even at noon; it had been of little service to us. The floating islands of creepers are still the order of the day; but not so large and numerous as in our ascent.
A quarter after four, W.N.W., in a flat arch to N. by W. The north wind having now set in delays us exceedingly. Five o’clock, N.N.E., a long road before us. We go at six o’clock to the right shore, where the river winds N.N.W. I go upon deck, but feel so enervated by continually sitting, that I do not venture into the half-burnt high grass on the shore, where our sentinels, as usual, have their posts on the ant-hills, as a measure of precaution against the desertion of the soldiers, as well as any sudden attack of the natives. Thermometer at sunrise, 17°; noon, 29°; without getting up any higher.
27th February.—At half-past seven we set ourselves in motion to N.N.W., and soon N.W. Not a negro is to be seen here: the country appears, even at a distance, to have no population or settlement. Perhaps Nature thinks fit to give a long preparation to these regions, in order to elevate the alluvial deposits for the habitation of man, and to form the stream territory, and thus to realise the principles of humidity; or all this land is subject to a deluge, and tracts, which are now deserts, have become dry. Truly it might be the work of thousands of years to dry up an inland sea, such as that between the mountain terrace of Fàzogl, and the mountains of Kordofàn, towards the sources of the White Stream,—to extend it, with unknown ramifications, through the mountains of Bari to Habesch and Darfur, or Fertit, &c., and at last to break down at the Nile valley, near Khartùm, those barriers which display themselves there in solitary rocky hills and mountains. Eight o’clock, from N.W. by N. with a fair south-westerly wind to W. A quarter after eight, W.N.W.; the wind freshens, and we make six miles. Half-past eight, in a bend to N., and further to S.E. A quarter before nine o’clock to N.W., and on to N.N.W.: on the right an isolated dhellèb in the reeds. Nine o’clock, in a flat arch again to N. by E.: on the right a village, with extremely low tokuls. On the left we remark another elephant-tree, and at a quarter of an hour distant, on the right, a forest. A quarter after nine o’clock.—N. by W. and E.: on the right a lake, with a village, at a short distance from the shore. The lake cuts off, near the Haba, that large angle formed by the river, and belonging therefore to the primitive bed. The poison-trees make me recognise that scanty forest where we landed previously. With a sharp turn from E. over N. to W. by S., and immediately at half-past nine o’clock, W.N.W., and further round an arch of reeds in narrow water to E.N.E., where we stumble again upon the Haba. A quarter before ten, we double a corner N.W. by N., and in a flat arch to W.; seven miles.