Half-past four.—To the right E., and straightforward, with small inlets, further to E. by N., five miles. The wind blows fresher. Five o’clock, from E. to the left, shortly round N.N.E., to N. by W. Half-past five.—From N. to the right N.N.E., still there are no shores, no burnt tracts of land. A quarter before six.—From E.N.E. to the left N.E., where we anchor in the middle of the river. A little lake, Haba, and the isolated tree to the right.
4th March.—Departure at half-past six o’clock, from N.E. to N. by E. A quarter before seven, in a flat arch on the right, to N.N.E. Hitherto, not any wind, and perhaps not much hope that there will be, for the day is clearer than usual, although it blows a little from the west. The west wind only brings rain now and then to the land here. Seven o’clock, from E.N.E., round the left N.W.; on the right the “Village of War,” so called by the crew, on account of the cruelty exercised previously on the natives, and which I have already related.
Half-past eight; from N.W., on the left two little islets follow one another, to N.N.W. A quarter before nine; the vessels come behind us, the south-west wind gets up a little, and we sail therefore on to N.; three miles; N.E. by E. Selim Capitan says we made sixty-five miles yesterday, and thirty-five more to-day, in the direction of the lake of the Bahr-el-Gasàll. Nine o’clock, from N.N.E.; a little island in the bend, to the left N. and N.N.W., then in a flat arch to N.N.E. Half-past nine, N. by W.; the wind freshens for five miles, N. and in the bend, on to N.N.W., where we are unfortunately obliged to furl the sails, owing to the strong north-west wind which has set in. A quarter before ten: we go N.W.; the wind becomes fresher; it seems inclined to be contrary to us the whole day, and we have enough to do to stand against it. A quarter after ten; W., and slowly to N.W., then right round to N., where we spread sails, after the wind had changed magnificently to the west, and perhaps will go again to S.W.—five miles. Eleven o’clock; from N. by E., in a bend to N. by W., in a long bend N.N.E., then shortly round the right. Half-past eleven, to S.E. by E.; afterwards in the arch to E.N.E., with six miles, and on to N.E. and N.N.E. Twelve o’clock; from N.N.E., a jump to the right, N.E. by N., then in the bend to N., and again N. by E., and a little to the left, N. One o’clock, N.N.E., and further to N.E. Half-past one; to N.N.E., and again in a flat arch to N.E. and E., to E. by S. Two o’clock, E.N.E.
The neighbouring ambak bushes approach us in these windings, and make the shores less monotonous; yet it does not last long, and we see again only grass, water, and sky. Half-past two, N.E.; a quarter before three, N.E. by E. We see from the deck a high mountain to N.N.E. at the distance. It must be the so-called Tickem, or the Morre, as Marian now says more correctly. The people have no end of joy at seeing this mountain, for they consider it to be the finger-post to Khartùm, and they are looking for the dome-palms now as another sign. Three o’clock.—From E.N.E. to E.; then, with the slightest bend, to N. The marsh-land is from a few inches to half a foot high, on dry ground; there are some ant-castles on it, and water-reeds and solitary ambak-bushes on the left. A little forward to the N., and the so-called Gazelle River rushes with great force close before us. Unfortunately, this is another pretext for the gentlemen engineers to stop—yet uselessly—whilst we ought to make good way with the favourable wind, in order to follow the Sobàt further. We go also immediately to the right marsh-reeds, as usual to collect gnats for the night. The Nuèhrs love their cattle, and, like children who won’t have their pigeons and rabbits killed, are excessively delighted at watching their growth and increase. We see not only from this that these people do not kill the animals for eating, but also from the manner in which they decorate the beasts, insomuch as they put on them broad necklaces, covered with little conical bells. The necklaces are of iron, and, as this metal is very rare amongst the Nuèhrs, they seem to take more pleasure in manufacturing ornaments than arms, though the latter are of the first and highest importance to a people living in a state of nature; yet they may, nevertheless, be richly provided with them, and do not wish to display their warlike side to us, for we have lost their confidence by the barbarous conduct of the first expedition. A closer investigation of this nation might give interesting results: their curly, not woolly hair, the antique form of their bows and quivers, their war-caps, similar to those of the Egyptians, and their worship of animals, would serve as a very instructive guide in the Ethiopian labyrinth of history.
5th March.—Nothing done, unfortunately, by the engineers: I myself could not land, owing to the marsh-reeds.
6th March.—Dined with Selim Capitan, where Arnaud had a fit of indigestion, from having eaten too many futir (tarts).
7th March.—At last Arnaud went in the sandal to circumnavigate the lake, without saying a word to any one of his intention, because he means to pretend that he has seen everything, and to impose on the Basha by a large bakshis. This lake is said to make a great figure on his map, which he must have got others to compose for him at Paris, because he himself is not capable of doing it, as Sabatier expressly declared. Yet he was so close to us all the time he was navigating it, that we never lost him out of our sight. He wished also to investigate the Gazelle River by himself, but he was afraid of remaining with the sandal in the reeds at night, where he might have become a victim to gnats or other monsters. The Bach’r el Gasàll does not display at this time of the year any fall, nor does the Nile here in the lake, although the breadth of its stream is clearly distinguished from the bluish water of the latter by its muddy colour. The lake has fallen about a foot since our ascent, of which we have plain proof by our shore. There is want of wood on board the vessels, because the crew have kept up a clear fire every night to drive away the gnats, without even giving a thought that the smoke alone has that effect. With respect to this abominable brood of insects, I earnestly advise all future travellers to provide themselves with a musquito-net (Arabic, nammusië, from nammùs, gnat) if they wish to escape the torments of hell, and to preserve their health and perhaps their life. I myself shall be grateful to God if I only remain strong enough to continue and end my journal as accurately and faithfully as hitherto; so that by its means I may correct the maps which may be published subsequently, and particularly with regard to the numerous windings and bends of the river itself, which can only be followed by the strictest attention.
8th March.—Arnaud again to-day kept his intention very secretly, and navigated the Delta before the Gazelle River—a famous opportunity for relating anecdotes of continual adventures and hippopotami-hunts. He really does gasconade too much: for example, he states, quite at random, in the presence of Sabatier, the number of miles he has navigated the last two days, although he has never cast out the log; whereupon Selim Capitan laughs in his face. Arnaud never scruples either to ask for anything that pleases him. “Son Altesse,” serves always as his excuse, as if he were collecting only for Mohammed Ali. At half-past ten o’clock a few drops of rain fell. M. Arnaud having returned from his great voyage of discovery, we sail out of the lake E.S.E. The weather seems about to clear up immediately, although the sun casts a certain watery gleam of light on the marsh-grass that we cannot trust.
It thunders, and we go with a west-wind right into the dark clouds. Half-past eleven o’clock, the rain has fortunately come on; the wind has changed from W. to N.E., and we go with oars again to E.N.E. A quarter before twelve, the wind blows freshly on the right shore of the reeds, where we make a whirl again, because the crew are tired out by their sleepless nights. Drops of rain only are falling, but the pell-mell confusion in which the vessels navigate is enough to drive one to despair: no taking to the oars—no wish to do anything—no command—the tailor-captain is sitting at his handy-work.
The shores are, or form, short reeds and grass standing in the water. Twelve o’clock; to E. Half-past twelve; S.S.E. One o’clock; E. by S., a large lake to the right, scarcely separated from us. Two o’clock; with a trifling declination left to S., and in a flat arch, E.S.E. The wind has changed to the south, and we sail a little—two miles. However we see showers of rain pouring down nearly all round us, and it will be fortunate if we escape them, for where could we fly to to preserve ourselves from the rain which soaks through in these regions? Half past three o’clock; from S.E., with a few deviations to E. by N.: we make four miles, for the wind has settled in south west, whereby a few drops of rain sprinkle us from the right side, and we go then directly a short tract N.N.E., leaving behind us a large floating-island, very rare here in comparison with the small ones. A quarter before four; with a short bend to E.S.E. and E., then from E.S.E.; on the right here a large lake; immediately at a quarter after four to S.E. by S., and on the left to E.S.E. and E. by N.