July 15.—This was a dies ater for me. Overweg and I had determined to start early in the morning for the remarkable mountain; but we had not been able to obtain from the Tuarek a guide to conduct us from thence to the next well, whither the caravan was to proceed by the direct road. Hatíta and Utaeti having again resisted all our solicitations for a guide, I at length, determined as I was to visit the mountain at any cost, started off in the confidence of being able to make out the well in the direction indicated to me. By ill-luck, our provision of zummíta (a cool and refreshing paste on which we were accustomed to breakfast) was exhausted the day before, so that I was obliged to take with me dry biscuit and dates, the worst possible food in the desert when water is scarce.
But as yet I needed no stimulus, and vigorously pushed my way through the sand-hills, which afforded no very pleasant passage. I then entered a wide, bare, desolate-looking plain, covered with black pebbles, from which arose a few black mounds. Here I crossed the beginning of a fiumara richly overgrown with herbage, which wound along through the sand-hills towards the large valley-plain. It was the abode of a beautiful pair of maraiya (Antelope Soemmeringii), which, probably anxious for their young ones, did not make off when roused by my approach, but stopped at a short distance, gazing at me and wagging their tails. Pursuing my way over the pebbly ground, which gradually rose till it was broken up by a considerable ravine descending from the western part of the mount, I disturbed another party of three antelopes, which were quietly lying down under the cover of some large blocks. At last I began to feel fatigued from walking over the sharp-pointed pebbles, as the distance proved to be greater than I had originally imagined, and I did not seem to have got much nearer to the foot of the Enchanted Mountain. In fact it proved that the crest of the mount formed a sort of horseshoe, so that its middle part, for which I had been steering all the time, in order to gain a depression which seemed to afford an easy ascent, was by far the remotest. I therefore changed my course and turned more eastward, but only met with more annoyance, for, ascending the slope which I hoped would soon convey me to the summit, I suddenly came to the steep precipice of a deep ravine, which separated me from the crest.
Being already fatigued, the disappointment, of course, depressed my spirits, and I had to summon all my resolution and energy in order to descend into the ravine and climb the other side. It was now past ten o’clock; the sun began to put forth its full power, and there was not the slightest shade around me. In a state of the utmost exhaustion I at length reached the narrow pinnacled crest, which was only a few feet broad, and exhibited neither inscriptions nor sculptures. I had a fine prospect towards the south-west and north-east, but I looked around in vain for any traces of our caravan. Though exposed to the full rays of the sun, I lay down on my high barbacan to seek repose; but my dry biscuit or a date was quite unpalatable, and being anxious about my little provision of water, I could only sip an insufficient draught from my small water-skin. As the day advanced I feared that our little band, thinking that I was already in advance, might continue their march in the afternoon, and, in spite of my weakness, determined to try to reach the encampment. I therefore descended the ravine, in order to follow its course, which, according to Hatíta’s indications, would lead me in the direction of the well. It was very hot, and being thirsty, I swallowed at once the little water that remained. This was about noon, and I soon found that the draught of mere water, taken upon an empty stomach, had not at all restored my strength.
At length I reached the bottom of the valley. Hatíta had always talked as if they were to encamp at no great distance from the mountain; yet, as far as I could strain my view, no living being was to be seen. At length I became puzzled as to my direction, and hurrying on as fast as my failing strength would allow, I ascended a mound crowned with an ethel-bush, and fired my pistols; but I waited in vain for an answer: a strong east wind was blowing dead against me. Reflecting a moment on my situation, I then crossed the small sand-hills, and, ascending another mound, fired again. Convinced that there could be nobody in this direction, at least at a moderate distance, I bethought myself that our party might be still behind, and, very unluckily, I kept more directly eastward.
The valley was here very richly overgrown with sebót, and to my great delight I saw at a distance some small huts attached to branches of the ethel-tree, covered on the top with sebót, and open in front. With joy in my heart I hastened on towards them, but found them empty; and not a living being was to be seen, nor was there a drop of water to be got. My strength being now exhausted, I sat down on the naked plain, with a full view before me of the whole breadth of the wady, and with some confidence expected the caravan. I even thought, for a moment, that I beheld a string of camels passing in the distance. But it was an illusion; and when the sun was about to set, not being able to muster strength enough to walk a few paces without sitting down, I had only to choose for my night’s quarters between the deserted huts and an ethel-tree which I saw at a little distance. I chose the latter, as being on a more elevated spot, and therefore scrambled to the tree, which was of a respectable old age, with thick tall branches, but almost leafless. It was my intention to light a fire, which promised almost certain deliverance; but I could not muster sufficient strength to gather a little wood. I was broken down and in a feverish state.
Having lain down for an hour or two, after it became quite dark I arose from the ground, and, looking around me, descried, to my great joy, a large fire south-west down the valley, and, hoping that it might be that of my companions, I fired a pistol, as the only means of communicating with them, and listened as the sound rolled along, feeling sure that it would reach their ears; but no answer was returned. All remained silent. Still I saw the flame rising towards the sky, and telling where deliverance was to be found, without my being able to avail myself of the signal. Having waited long in vain, I fired a second time—yet no answer. I lay down in resignation, committing my life to the care of the Merciful One; but it was in vain that I tried to sleep, and, restless and in a high fever, I tossed about on the ground, looking with anxiety and fear for the dawn of the next day.
At length the long night wore away, and dawn was drawing nigh. All was repose and silence, and I was sure I could not choose a better time for trying to inform my friends, by signal, of my whereabouts. I therefore collected all my strength, loaded my pistol with a heavy charge, and fired—once—twice. I thought the sound ought to awaken the dead from their tombs, so powerfully did it reverberate from the opposite range and roll along the wady; yet no answer. I was at a loss to account for the great distance apparently separating me from my companions, who seemed not to have heard my firing.
The sun that I had half longed for, half looked forward to with terror, at last rose. My condition, as the heat went on increasing, became more dreadful; and I crawled around, changing every moment my position, in order to enjoy the little shade afforded by the leafless branches of the tree. About noon there was of course scarcely a spot of shade left—only enough for my head—and I suffered greatly from the pangs of thirst, although I sucked a little of my blood till I became senseless, and fell into a sort of delirium, from which I only recovered when the sun went down behind the mountains. I then regained some consciousness, and crawled out of the shade of the tree, throwing a melancholy glance over the plain, when suddenly I heard the cry of a camel. It was the most delightful music I ever heard in my life; and raising myself a little from the ground, I saw a mounted Tarki passing at some distance from me, and looking eagerly around. He had found my footsteps in the sandy ground, and losing them again on the pebbles, was anxiously seeking traces of the direction I had taken. I opened my parched mouth, and crying, as loud as my faint strength allowed, “Áman, áman” (Water, water), I was rejoiced to get for answer “Íwah! íwah!” and in a few moments he sat at my side, washing and sprinkling my head, while I broke out involuntarily into an uninterrupted strain of “El hamdu lilláhi! el hamdu lilláhi!”
Having thus first refreshed me, and then allowed me a draught, which, however, I was not able to enjoy, my throat being so dry, and my fever still continuing, my deliverer, whose name was Musa, placed me upon his camel, mounted himself in front of me, and brought me to the tents. They were a good way off. The joy of meeting again, after I had been already despaired of, was great; and I had to express my sincere thanks to my companions, who had given themselves so much trouble to find me. But I could speak but little at first, and could scarcely eat anything for the next three days, after which I gradually recovered my strength. It is, indeed, very remarkable how quickly the strength of a European is broken in these climes, if for a single day he be prevented from taking his usual food. Nevertheless I was able to proceed the next day (the 17th), when we kept more towards the slope of the Akakús, and here passed a broad lateral valley, rich in herbage, called Ádar-n-jelkum, after which we descended about a hundred feet, from the pebbly ground into sandy soil forming a sort of valley called Ighelfannís, and full of ethel-trees and sebót. In such a locality we encamped two hours after noon, near splendid ethel-trees; but the strong north-easterly wind, enveloping ourselves and baggage in thick clouds of sand, banished all enjoyment.
July 18.—We continued our march with the sure expectation of soon reaching Ghát, the second great station on our journey. The valley after some time became free from ethel-trees, and opened a view of the little town, situated at the north-western foot of a rocky eminence jutting out into the valley, and girt by sand-hills on the west. Its plantation extends in a long strip towards south-south-west, while another group, formed by the plantation and by the noble-looking mansion of Háj Ahmed, appears towards the west. Here we were joined by Mohammed Sheríf, a nephew of Háj Ahmed, in a showy dress, and well mounted on a horse; and we separated from Hatíta in order to take our way round the north side of the hill, so as to avoid exciting the curiosity and importunity of the townspeople. But a good many boys came out of the town, and exhibited quite an interesting scene as they recognized Yakúb (Mr. Richardson), who had visited this place on his former journey. Many people came out to see us, some offering us their welcome, others remaining indifferent spectators.