While our people pitched our tents, Mr. Overweg and I went to pay our compliments to Sheikh Ghét and ʿOmár, and to have a friendly talk with them before we proceeded to more serious business. They seemed to expect this compliment, having lain down in the shade of a tree at a short distance from our place of encampment. Ghét, who was smoking a long pipe, was a tolerably handsome young man; but his pronunciation was, very defective, and he had nothing very commanding in his manner. Having exchanged a few compliments, and asked some general questions, we withdrew, and soon after received a present of dates and milk. A great many of the Arabs paid us a visit; and a renegade Tripolitan Jew, ʿAbdallah, with the surname “el Musulmáni,” who would not leave us for a moment, kept telling us of his adventures and his importance, and assuring us of his most disinterested affection for us. Though his former religion differed from ours, and he had again exchanged this for another from mere worldly motives, he nevertheless thought himself entitled to the claim of brotherhood, and was gracious enough to call us sometimes his cousins (welád ʿamí). There was another man who tried to make himself as agreeable as possible to us, and endeavoured to obtain our friendship; this was an Egyptian named Ibrahím, a fine tall man who evidently belonged originally to a good family; but he had run away from home, and was now leading, in company with this little horde, a restless, remorseful, and wearisome life.
When the heat of the day had a little abated, we prepared the small present we had to give to Sheikh Ghét, and which consisted of a red cloth bernús of good workmanship, a pound of cloves, a pound of jáwi or benzoin, and a razor. We were well aware that it was rather a trifling gift, considering the assistance we required from these people to carry out our object; but we knew also that it was rather a favour bestowed upon us by the vizier of Bórnu, who regarded these people as in his service. Referring therefore to the friendship which existed of old between their tribe, when still in their old settlements in the Syrtis, and the English consul in Tripoli, and delivering a letter from Mr. Frederick Warrington, who was personally well known to the chief men, we openly professed that the object of our coming was to try, with their assistance, to visit the eastern shore of the lake, and especially the Bahar el Ghazál, which had formed a remarkable object of curiosity in our country for some time. But Sheikh Ghét without hesitation declared it was impossible for them to take us to that place, the most dangerous locality in all these quarters, on account of the many predatory expeditions which were made to that spot from different quarters, and by tribes hostile to them. After some commonplace talk about the English, we left him, and went to his uncle with a present of precisely the same kind, and began here to urge the distinct object of our coming in a more positive way. I expressed the opinion that, as they would render acceptable service to the British Government, if they were to enable us to investigate the connection between the Bahar el Ghazál and the lake, so, on the other hand, a great portion of the blame, if we should not be able to carry out our design, would certainly fall upon them, inasmuch as they had always professed to be under great obligations towards the English. ʿOmár ben Ghét ben Séf eʾ Nasr acknowledged all this; but he doubted very much if the band, in its present reduced state, would be able to carry us to those quarters, which were entirely under the sway of Wadáy. The Bahar el Ghazál having given an opportunity of speaking about the river-system between the Tsád and the Nile, our friend came forward with a most confused statement, which it would not be worth while to explain. But with regard to that large wady itself we found that he, as well as the experienced men among these Arabs, asserted that it took its course not towards, but from the lake.
We then took our leave of ʿOmár, and returned to our tents. The place of the encampment was a fine, open, sandy, undulating level, commanding the vale, where are the wells Yongo or Bú-Halíma, covered with verdure, and richly adorned with scattered mimosas. The tents and sheds of the Arabs were spread over a great space; and no precaution was taken to obtain some degree of security by means of fences and stockades. The sun having set, I lay down outside my tent to enjoy the coolness and tranquillity of the evening after a hot and troublesome day. All seemed calm and tranquil, when suddenly a terrible screaming and crying arose from the women in the west part of the encampment. We hurried to our arms, thinking that an enemy had entered the place. The cry “ʿAlá eʾ dhahar! ʿalá eʾ dhahar” (“Mount! mount!”)—properly speaking, “In the saddle! in the saddle!”—sounded from all sides, and the horsemen hurried past us; but it was only a small party of freebooters, who, in the twilight of the evening, had made an attack upon the camels, and after having put to flight two or three men and killed a horseman, had driven off a part of the herd. Our friends pursued the robbers at full speed, and soon overtook them, when they retreated into the thicket, and gave up their booty. In this way we had a specimen of the character of our present expedition the very first day we had joined this little horde; and the lamentations of the females, on account of the man who had been slain, sounded wofully through the night, and brought before our minds the fate which, in a very short time, might befall ourselves. Late in the night, when the alarm had subsided, Sheikh Ghét sent us a heifer as a present.
Thursday, Oct. 2.—We remained quietly in our encampment, and obtained a great deal of valuable information respecting the south-eastern part of the lake and the districts adjacent. Thus the day passed by most pleasantly. Nothing remarkable happened to us on the following day, except the arrival of the important news that the Agíd of Wadáy, who had resided in Máwó, on the report of an attack intended to be made by the Arabs upon that town, had fled. This news, if it proved true, held out, of course, a feeble ray of hope that we might be able to penetrate to the eastern shore of the lake; and the Arabs formed schemes accordingly. As Háj ʿAbbás, who had come with us in order to raise from the Arabs Háj Beshír’s share in the spoil of their last predatory excursions, was to return to Kúkawa in a few days, I wrote a letter to the vizier concerning the prospect we had of probably not being able to accomplish the whole of our design. The rest of the day I enjoyed in comfort, stretched quietly in the shade of a tree; but my tranquillity was a little disturbed by disputes that arose amongst my men.
Saturday, Oct. 4.—Very early in the morning, when all was quiet, I was aroused from my sleep by the mournful song of an Arab, who, between the different stanzas of his dirge, seemed to give vent to his tears. The impression made by this song, which was full of deep feeling, among such a horde of lawless people, where generally only the meanest side of man was exhibited, was charming; but as the singer was at some distance from my tent, I could not distinctly make out what was the cause of his grief, neither was I able to learn it afterwards: the thoughts of the Arabs were taken up by another affair. The most handsome among the female slaves who composed part of the spoil that was to be taken to the vizier by his officer Háj ʿAbbás, had made her escape during the night; they were eagerly searching from dawn of day, but could not find her. At length they discovered her necklace and clothes, and the remains of her bones,—evident proofs that she had fallen a prey to the wild beasts. She belonged to the Yédiná or Búdduma, and was represented as having been possessed of considerable charms; and it was supposed that her loss would affect the vizier greatly, who, as I have before observed, was rather fond of an ethnological variety of female beauty. There was a great deal of unpleasant conversation about this affair, the girl not yet having been delivered up to Háj ʿAbbás when she made her escape.
But there were many other causes of discord among this little horde, and when the vizier’s officer set out, a great many more of the Arabs made use of this opportunity to go to Kúkawa than had been agreed upon. The most serious loss to us was certainly the departure of Sheikh ʿOmár, Ghét’s uncle, who, on account of his experience and knowledge of the English, which much exceeded that of his youthful nephew, might have been of considerable service to us. At any rate he ought to have informed us of his intention to leave, as by his accepting our present, it was understood that he undertook the obligation of assisting us in carrying out our project; and having nothing to spare, we felt rather disappointed. But although our prospects were not too flattering, at least we had hopes of moving a little onwards, as our departure from this place was fixed for the following day.
Sunday, Oct. 5.—When the camels, guarded by the men on foot, had left in the morning, we went first with the other horsemen to the well, in order to water our horses. We had not visited it before, as it was at some distance from our tents. The vale was of that general wild and luxuriant character which distinguishes the valleys of Kánem; but it was even more wild and picturesque than usual, and a chill draught of air met us proceeding from the richly wooded dale, where the sun’s rays never penetrated. There were several wells, which exhibited a busy and interesting scene, the horsemen in their picturesque attire (a mixed dress of their native abode and their present adopted home) thronging around these sources and centres of life, in order to water their poor-looking but persevering nags. When we returned to the place of our former encampment all was desolate, and loneliness and silence had succeeded to the animated dwelling-place of a quarrelsome multitude of people. We hurried on over undulating sandy ground, richly overgrown with trees, and soon overtook our camels: the place of our destination was not far off; and at noon we were already encamped on a fine sandy level, rising over another luxuriant hollow or vale especially rich in kúrna-trees, whence the well “Bír el Kúrna” has received its name. It was a spacious encampment, with Arabs and Tébu intermixed, and could not but be very salubrious, although we found afterwards, just in this elevated position, the difference between the cold of the night and the heat of the day extraordinary. Our appetite being rather keen, we indulged in the luxury of some turtle-soup: for turtles are by no means a rarity in these districts, although in general they seem to be of a rather small size. I do not remember to have seen or heard in this quarter of such large specimens as seem to be common in the country round Aír.
Monday, Oct. 6.—The day of the ʿAíd el kebír. I went in the morning, as soon as the sun began to shine forth, to a place in a cool shade a little south from our encampment, without knowing that this was the very spot which the Arabs had chosen for their holiday prayers. In general only a few of them were praying; but to-day the leading persons among them, who came here with Sheikh Ghét, offered up their prayer with solemnity and apparent fervour. This proved an unlucky day to us, and very unfavourable to our design to penetrate into those dangerous districts on the east side of the lake; for a considerable portion of the tribe (one hundred and fifty men with about seventy horses) left that day for Kúkawa, to our great surprise and mortification, and, as it would seem, also to the mortification of the young chief, a circumstance of which we became fully aware when we paid him a visit about noon. Of course, with our very small means, and the poor and insignificant character of our mission, we could not expect that this unsettled horde should have a scrupulous regard to our wishes and designs in arranging their affairs. It was quite evident that their proceeding was the mere effect of a stubborn sense of independence and jealousy; and it seemed to be done in open opposition to the wish of their young chief. About one o’clock in the afternoon they left; and we forwarded a short note with them expressive of our dissatisfaction at this state of things, which filled us with the saddest forebodings as to the success of our mission. But while thus disappointed in more important matters, we felt tolerably well off in material comforts; for in the morning a party of Fugábú arrived with a number of sheep for sale, selling two for a dollar, and thus enabled us to gratify the religious longing of our servants for an extra dish on this their holiday. In the course of the evening, a numerous caravan of oxen laden with grain, or rather Negro millet, arrived from Bórnu, which made provisions a little cheaper. The grain grown in the country, in its present wild and desolate state, is not sufficient for the population, though so greatly reduced; and the last season had been rather an unfavourable one. In consequence of the arrival of this caravan, we not only had the opportunity of buying corn at a cheaper rate, but we also got some from the chief as a present.
Everything in Kánem is bought with the common white Bórnu shirts, which form the general dress of the people, black tobes being worn only by richer persons. Even the general dress of the Arabs settled here in Kánem consists of these white tobes and a háík made of the same stuff, only the wealthier individuals being able to buy a woollen plaid. The dress of the females, too, is made of these very tobes, which are cut into the regular oblong pieces of which they consist, and sewn together lengthwise.
Tuesday, Oct. 7.—Being obliged to remain here without the certain prospect of doing anything worth while, we at least thought we had some right to the hospitality of our hosts; and we expressed our desire to obtain a little more milk, as we ourselves possessed neither cows nor she-camels. Our request was complied with. Thus we accustomed ourselves entirely to camel’s milk, and found it by degrees more palatable and wholesome than the milk of cows. I attribute the recovery of my strength principally to this sort of diet. There was always some milk brought into the encampment by the daughters of the Bení Hassan; but this was generally milk in an unpleasant intermediate state between sweet and sour, and the vessels (the kórió, made of the leaves of the palm-tree) in which it was carried had usually a bad smell, which they communicated to the milk. As the renegade Jew ʿAbdallah (el Musulmáni) was the medium through which all our business with the chief was transacted, I made him to-day a present of a red sash, and continued to keep him in good humour by occasional small presents. This man was a curious specimen of a Jewish adventurer. He was by birth a Tripolitan, but had been obliged to leave his native home on account of a murder which he had committed. He then betook himself to the tribe of the Welád Slimán, exchanging his Jewish creed for that of Mohammed, and obtained protection. When he had gained a good deal of property as a silversmith, his new companions stripped him of his treasures: he then for a time separated from them, and in company with two other renegade Jews, Músa and Ibrahím, made a journey to Negroland—a memorable event, as they were the first of their nation who trod this road. On his receiving news of the prosperity of the Welád Slimán in Kánem, he once more joined them, and became a freebooter. He was a very good horseman; but that was all, his horsemanship but badly supplying his want of courage. However he was useful to us in many respects, although we had to take care that the people did not confound us with these Jewish adventurers.