Upon the whole, therefore, I soon came to the determination of being taken in the train of the merchants of Khartoom, trusting that the countries opened by them would offer sufficient scope for all my energies. It was probable that the ivory traders would never, of their own accord, want to thwart me; yet I would not rely entirely on this, as I knew that they were themselves subjects of the Viceroy. As matter of fact, probably, they were entire masters of the situation in the negro countries, and really irresponsible; but still their interests made them apparently subservient to an absolute government, and this was the handle that I desired to use accordingly. By diplomatic interest, I had secured the ostensible recognition of the Viceregal Government, but from my own experience, I was fully convinced that mere letters of recommendation to the local authorities, as long as their contents are limited to ordinary formal phrases, are of very questionable advantage. I might refer particularly to Sir Samuel Baker’s misadventure as affording an illustration of the insufficiency of such credentials. I considered myself fortunate, therefore, in obtaining from the Prime Minister of the Viceroy (although he was himself not in residence) special orders, which I knew were indispensable, to the Governor-General of Khartoom. The Governor-General was to superintend any contract which I might make with the merchants to secure that my journey through the district of the Gazelle River should be unhindered, and to ensure the due fulfilment of whatever obligations might be undertaken.
Thus the course appeared to be smooth, by which I might hope to reach the centre of the mysterious continent; but I was still far from my object, still far from the point which I could consider as the true starting-point of my real journey. Between Alexandria and Khartoom was a route familiar enough, but even Khartoom could hardly be deemed the beginning. In order to reach the cannibal and the pigmy there faced me, as perchance there does the reader, many a trial of patience. What I did in Alexandria and Cairo can afford little or no interest; I was there fully occupied in preparations and purchases for my equipment, at times feeling much depressed. Before me lay the uncertain future, and the perils, which I could not conceal from myself, of this inhospitable region; and behind me was Europe, in which to dwell was insupportable, without seeing my cherished designs accomplished.
AT SUEZ.
In Suez the dejection of despondency yielded to feelings of a more lively nature, partly from vexation, partly from amusement. The custom-house afforded me vexation, whilst the Governor’s divan was an unfailing source of amusement. I arrived in Suez on the 16th of August, proposing to continue my journey to Djidda by the next steamer. Much gratified by the intelligence that a steamer belonging to the Sulphur Company would start in four days, I was proceeding to embark at once, when I was stopped by the custom-house authorities, who desired a strict investigation of the luggage, and insisted upon payment of the tariff duties for every article of my huge accumulation of baggage. Perhaps everything might have been arranged, but when my additional waggon appeared, although I explained that it had been furnished me by the Government, and notwithstanding that I was the bearer of letters directed to the Egyptian revenue officers, the director required an extra special order, and referred me to the Governor, who telegraphed back to Alexandria. In the meantime, for the next two days, I was compelled to take turns with my factotum, the Nubian servant, to sit in the sun on my baggage in order to protect my boxes which contained my money bags full of Maria Theresa dollars. As a refuge for the night I betook myself to a hotel, not much larger than a hut, in which I had already some years previously found the accommodation just suited to give me a foretaste of the privations of the desert.
My consternation may be imagined, when at last there arrived from the capital an order that I must pay precisely as any ordinary traveller. Hardly had I recovered my first surprise, when accidentally one of the Governor’s clerks called attention to some contradictions in the despatch. Further inquiries were instituted, and the discovery was made that an important word had been overlooked, and that the tenor of the message was that I was “not” to pay.
Whilst this was going on, and I was kept in my suspense, I stayed chiefly in the Governor’s divan. This officer, untroubled at the revolutions which were taking place around him, untouched by any development of the spirit of the age so perceptible here, where three-quarters of the world join hands, ruled his people in simplicity and in the fear of the Lord. During the time which I passed sitting in his divan awaiting the issue of events, I was a witness of several incidents exhibiting this simplicity, and which struck me as being somewhat ludicrous. First stepped in a swarthy-looking fellow, with a knavish countenance, such as one meets but seldom even in the streets of Alexandria. He wanted to legitimatise himself in his character of a British subject, or “protégé” as he styled himself. To the Governor’s inquiry where he came from, he said from Tarablus. “Tarablus! then how can you be English?” said the Governor. “Why, surely, because Tarablus is in the west,” replied the rogue. It was objected that he was forging a lie, and that Tarablus was not in the west, and thence there ensued a tedious geographical discussion about Eastern and Western Tripoli. The rascal went on to assert that his father was a native of Malta, that after his death he had married, settled in Tripoli, and had become a Mohammedan; and then he cunningly added, “Allah be with you, and give you grace! I should hope I could be an Englishman and yet be a good Mussulman.” Quite satisfied, the Governor gave a contented look, and let him pass. The order was given for the next applicant to be heard. With hesitating steps there now approached a little man, black and repulsive, bringing with him a veiled girl to the front. It was a scene which suggested the thought that he must be a slave-dealer, and it reminded me of one of Horace Vernet’s famous pictures; but the circumstances were different. He proceeded to unroll mysteriously and display a splendid caftan of yellow silk. He was, it seemed, a tailor of the suburbs, and the veiled beauty was a slave-girl from Enarea, who had formerly been sold for filthy lucre, and was now bartering her honesty under the same inducement. The caftan was a gorgeous vestment lined with imitation ermine, and not unlike the night-dress of Ivan the Terrible, which is preserved in the Troitsky convent near Moscow. The girl had ordered the dress, and now would not pay for it, and accordingly the tailor had brought her with him to the Governor, and so enforced his demand.
SCENE IN THE DIVAN.
The next scene had a wonderful climax. It might almost remind one of the tedious campaign ending with the sudden collapse of Magdala. What the beginning of the contention was, I cannot tell. The Governor had apparently been trying to mediate between two Arnauts; but as the prolonged discourse was carried on in Turkish, I did not understand it. A quantity of apples were produced, and some of them laid for an evidently conciliatory purpose beside the Governor. All at once, however, some misunderstanding occurred, and there arose a furious storm of apples: they were hurled in every direction, the Bey himself being the originator of the bombardment; and the scene closed as effectively as though there had been a display of fireworks. For myself, I was happily protected by my situation; but I could see all, and am ready, if need be, to vouch for my representation in the presence of the great Sultan himself. If any one is inclined to suspect that such a sight is incompatible with the dignity or indolence of Turks, I can only remind him that their enlarged intercourse with temperaments less sluggish than their own has broken down much of their composure; and that now just as little patience can be expected from an African Bey when he is irritated, as from an excited Bavarian corporal. Although these details may appear to have no direct connection with what concerns Central Africa, yet they are significant as exhibiting how completely, for all purposes of administration, every institution which is Turkish or Mohammedan remains fixed on its ancient basis. Though Suez were to become a second San Francisco, or however much it might concentrate upon itself the traffic of the world, scenes of judicial practice such as these would be sure to recur until the last Pasha or Bey had taken farewell of this mortal state.
Since my first visit five years ago, in January 1864, the population of Suez had increased threefold. The Abyssinian campaign alone had been the means of almost doubling the number of its inhabitants. A portion of the camp formed for the marching troops, and an immense depôt for trusses of hay, seeming well nigh like a large village in itself, were now the sole relics of that successful enterprise.
The fresh-water canal, which had now been completed for five years, had not effected any marked improvement upon the melancholy environs of the town, where desolation still reigned as ever; no gardens, no plantations, no verdure relieved the eye, which sought its refreshment from the blue sky and the azure sea. The hopeful expectations which were entertained from that canal seem by no means to have been realised. The deposit of any fertilising soil proceeded very slowly, and hitherto had made no change in the condition of vegetation at Suez, except just at the foot of the Mokkatan mountains, where the boulder flats, unimpregnated with salt, are traversed by a separate side branch of the main canal. Large fields of vegetables are cultivated here, and, without the aid of man, many varieties of desert plants contribute to the verdure. The tourist who loves to inscribe fresh acquisitions in his diary, may here without trouble find the far-famed “rose of Jericho,” which he would seek in vain around the suburbs of Cairo.