Wherever one of the bright bubbling streams was seen, like a shining thread upon the grey monotony of the rocks, there I was pretty sure to find the Ensete, or wild African plantain. This is a plant which is never seen below an altitude of 3000 feet above the sea. It was now to be observed in every stage of its growth, sometimes being small like the head of a cabbage, and sometimes running out to a length of twenty feet with its fruit attached to a short thick stem in the form of an onion. The tender leaves were marked with a midrib of purple-red. It struck me that here in the wilderness this plant, which has become so common a favourite in our greenhouses, is distinguished by a much shorter leaf-stem and by a more compact appearance than it bears in its cultivated form when its growth is spreading and graceful. Not unfrequently the Ensete of the mountains bore a striking resemblance to young specimens of the Musa sapientium, though it exceeded it in the number of the leaves it bore, there being occasionally as many as forty on a single plant. I found it here in full bloom, but without any prospect of fruit; it differs from other representatives of its class by losing its leaves at the time of its flowering, and then has the appearance of an elongated onion on a shaft some six or eight feet in length, on the top of which rests a compact truss of bloom. Although I never observed any side sprouts from the wild Ensete, it by no means follows that they are never to be seen: a single authenticated instance of the kind would demonstrate almost beyond a doubt what is already in so many respects probable, namely, that the Ensete is the original stock of the cultivated African plantain.
We had quickly improvised some huts from the long grass at the foot of the mountain, and they afforded us secure and sufficiently comfortable shelter from the downpour of rain that lasted throughout the night. On the following morning I was disappointed to find that the sky was still burdened with storm-clouds, whilst a fine, drizzling mist obscured the greater part of the view that we had proved to be so lovely.
My sojourn in the neighbourhood was limited to a single day, since the Seriba was suffering from the general dearth of provisions, and could ill afford to entertain us: there was consequently no help for it, but if the ascent of the mountain were made at all it must be made in defiance of the heavy rain. I was quite aware that the adverse weather would make the task altogether uncongenial to my guides, and I was not very much surprised to find that they had made off during the night. I had thus to start off on my own responsibility. My Nubian servants remained behind to warm their shivering limbs over the camp-fires, so that, followed only by my two Niam-niam, carrying the portfolios for my plants, I set out upon my enterprise.
I turned towards the northern declivity, which slanted in almost an unbroken line from the summit to the base. At first my view was necessarily circumscribed, and it was only after a good deal of clambering and by a very circuitous route along rugged places, overhung with bushes, and across fissures full of water, that I succeeded in finding the correct path. The wind was so strong that although my broad hat was weighted with pebbles I was obliged to leave it below. The highest point of the ridge I found to be at the south of the summit, and thence I had a magnificent prospect, being able to see for fifty or sixty miles in an east and north-east direction. Not far short of a hundred different mountain-peaks were visible, and of these I took measurements of the angles between the more important, which I subsequently combined with the angles which I had already observed. I also made a drawing of the entire panorama around me.
The upper course of the Tondy was plainly visible, and beyond it were caught the terraced ridges of the country to the east. The northern and eastern spurs of Baginze were especially picturesque; the elevated level of the ground at the base was not apparent from above, so that they stood out like isolated eminences from a uniform plain: three more spurs a few miles to the south-east also appeared completely detached: they were in a straight line one behind another, the names of the two most northerly being Bonduppa and Nagongoh. Somewhere near them was a Seriba belonging to Poncet’s company, who had reduced the former independent chieftain Bendo (another of the many sons of Renje) to the same state of submission as Tuhamy’s company had brought his brother Indimma.
ALTITUDE OF MOUNT BAGINZE.
The measurement that I took upon the spot gave Baginze a relative height of 1350 feet; but the barometrical observations made at the base, which would have determined its exact altitude above the level of the sea, have unfortunately been lost; I believe, however, that I am not far wrong in estimating the entire height to be about 3900 feet.
The bulk of the rock of which the mountain was composed consisted of a gneiss that was so abundant in mica that in many places it had the appearance of being actual mica schist; a speciality in its formation being the immense number of cyanite crystals that pervaded it in all directions: a similar conglomeration of “cyanite gneiss” is very rare, but amongst other places it may be observed on Mount St. Gotthard in Switzerland. Wherever the springs issued at the foot of the mountain there were wide boulder-flats of broken stones, and here the sheets of mica and the prisms of cyanite, an inch or two in length, lay cleanly washed and strewn one upon another in such thick confusion that I had to wade through them as through a pile of rubbish. I collected several specimens of the rock, which I brought to Europe.
Massive in its grandeur, isolated, and worn by time, Mount Baginze thus stood before me as a witness of a former era in the world’s history and as a remnant of the lofty mountain-chain which must have once formed the southern boundary of the Nile district.
There was an entire absence of large trees everywhere, and the higher regions of the mountain bore but a very scanty vegetation. Contented, however, with the few botanical discoveries that the toilsome trip had yielded, I began to think of returning. It had taken me four hours to make the ascent of the mountain, but being now aware of the correct path, a single hour was all I spent in getting back to our encampment. In spite of the unpropitious weather I felt that I could have enjoyed myself for some days in exploring this enticing neighbourhood: the mountain air was even fresher and more invigorating than what I had been breathing in the Niam-niam country—and this is saying not a little; for, in spite of their meagre diet, the Nubian soldiers who came thither sickly and weakened by their idle Seriba-life always returned from their Niam-niam campaigns fat and healthy, and with renewed strength and vigour. My attendants unfortunately did not sympathise with my ideal enjoyments, but made such loud and bitter complaints at the increasing inclemency of the weather that I should not have dared to prolong my stay, even if I could.