Friday, August 16.—We started early. Gravelly and pebbly grounds succeeded each other, the principal formation being granite; but when, after a march of about thirteen miles, we passed the narrow sandy spur of a considerable ridge approaching our left, a fine species of white marble became visible. We then passed a rugged district, of peculiar and desolate appearance, called Ibéllakang, and crossed a ridge of gneiss covered with gravel. Here, while a thunder-storm was rising in the east, our caravan, to our great regret, divided, the Tinylkum turning off towards the east, in order, as we were told, to look for a little herbage among the sand-hills. Meanwhile thick, heavy clouds, which had been discharging a great quantity of rain towards the east, broke over us at a quarter past four o’clock in the afternoon, when we were just in the act of crossing another rocky crest covered with gravel. A violent sand-storm, followed by heavy rain, which was driven along by a furious gale, soon threw the caravan into the utmost confusion, and made all observation impossible; but fortunately it did not last long. It was on descending from this crest, while the weather cleared up, that the Háusa slaves, with a feeling of pride and joy, pointed out in the far distance “dútsi-n-Absen” (Mount Absen). Here the granite formation had been gradually succeeded by sandstone and slate. This district, indeed, seems to be the line of demarcation between two different zones.
At twenty minutes past six o’clock we at length encamped, but were again in the saddle at eleven o’clock at night, and in pale moonlight, sleepy and worn out as we were, began a dreadful night’s march. But altogether it proved to be a wise measure taken by the Kél-owí, who had reason to be afraid lest the Hogár, of whom they appeared to have trustworthy news, might overtake us before we reached the wells of Asïu, and then treat us as they pleased. Our companions, who were of course themselves not quite insensible to fatigue, as night advanced, became very uncertain in their direction, and kept much too far to the south. When day dawned our road lay over a flat, rocky, sandstone surface, while we passed on our left a locality remarkable for nothing but its name, Efínagha. We then descended from the rocky ground into the extremely shallow valley of Asïu, overgrown with scanty herbage of a kind not much liked by the camels. Here we encamped, near a group of four wells, which still belong to the Azkár, while a little further on there are others which the Kél-owí regard as their own property. How it was that we did not encamp near the latter I cannot say. But the people were glad to have got so far. The wells, or at least two of them, afforded an abundant supply of water; but it was not of a good quality, and had a peculiar taste, I think on account of the iron ore with which it was impregnated.
This, then, was Asïu, a place important for the caravan trade at all times, on account of the routes from Ghadámes and from Tawát joining here, and which did so even as far back as the time when the famous traveller Ebn Batúta returned from his enterprising journey to Sudán homewards by way of Tawát (in the year 1353-4). Desolate and melancholy as it appeared, it was also an important station to us, as we thought that we had now left the most difficult part of the journey behind us. For though I myself had some forebodings of a danger threatening us, we had no idea that the difficulties which we should have to encounter were incomparably greater than those which we had passed through. Mr. Richardson supposed that because we had reached the imaginary frontier of the territories of the Azkár and Kél-owí, we were beyond the reach of any attack from the north. With the utmost obstinacy he reprobated as absurd any supposition that such a frontier might be easily crossed by nomadic roving tribes, asserting that these frontiers in the desert were respected much more scrupulously than any frontier of Austria, notwithstanding the innumerable host of its land-waiters. But he was soon to be undeceived on all the points of his desert diplomacy, at his own expense and that of us all.
There was very little attraction for roving about in this broad gravelly plain. Now and then a group of granite blocks interrupted the monotonous level, bordered on the north by a gradually ascending rocky ground, while the southern border rose to a somewhat higher elevation.
Desolate as the spot was, and gloomy as were our prospects, the arrival of the Tinýlkum in the course of the afternoon afforded a very cheerful sight, and inspired some confidence, as we felt that our little party had once more resumed its strength. All the people, however, displayed an outward show of tranquillity and security, with the exception of Serki-n-turáwa, who was bustling about in a state of the utmost excitement. Watering the camels and filling the water-skins employed the whole day.
Sunday, August 18.—After a two hours’ march we began to ascend, first gradually, then more steeply, all the rocks hereabouts, consisting of slate, greatly split and rent, and covered with sand. In twenty-five minutes we reached the higher level, which consisted of pebbly ground, with a ridge running, at the distance of about four miles, to the west.
While we were quietly pursuing our road, with the Kél-owí in the van, the Tinýlkum marching in the rear, suddenly Mohammed the Sfaksi came running behind us, swinging his musket over his head, and crying lustily, “He awelád, awelád bú, ʿadúna já!” (“Lads, lads, our enemy has come!”), and spreading the utmost alarm through the whole of the caravan. Everybody seized his arms, whether musket, spear, sword, or bow, and whosoever was riding jumped down from his camel. Some time elapsed before it was possible, amid the noise and uproar, to learn the cause of the alarm. At length it transpired. A man named Mohammed, belonging to the caravan, having remained a little behind at the well, had observed three Tuarek, mounted on mehára, approaching at a rapid rate; and while he himself followed the caravan, he left his slave behind to see whether others were in the rear. The slave, after a while, overtook him, with the news that several more camels had become visible in the distance; and then Mohammed and his slave hurried on to bring us the intelligence. Even Mr. Richardson, who, being rather hard of hearing, judged of our situation only from the alarm, descended from his slender little she-camel and cocked his pistols. A warlike spirit seemed to have taken possession of the whole caravan, and I am persuaded that had we been attacked at this moment, all would have fought valiantly. But such is not the custom of freebooting parties; they will cling artfully to a caravan, and first introduce themselves in a tranquil and peaceable way, till they have succeeded in disturbing the little unity which exists in such a troop, composed as it is of the most different elements; they then gradually throw off the mask, and in general attain their object.
When at length a little tranquillity had been restored, and plenty of powder and shot had been distributed among those armed with firelocks, the opinion began to prevail that, even if the whole of the report should be true, it was not probable that we should be attacked by daylight. We therefore continued our march with a greater feeling of security, while a body of archers was despatched to learn the news of a small caravan which was coming from Sudán, and marching at some distance from us, behind a low ridge of rocks. They were a few Tébu, with ten camels and between thirty and forty slaves, unconsciously going to meet a terrible fate; for we afterwards learned that the Imghád of the Hogár, or rather the Hadánara, disappointed at our having passed through their country without their getting anything from us, had attacked this little troop, murdering the Tébu, and carrying off their camels and slaves.
While the caravan was going slowly on, I was enabled to allow my méheri a little feeding on the nesí (Panicum grossularium, much liked by camels), in a spot called Tahasása. At noon we began to ascend on rocky ground, and, after a very gradual ascent of three miles, reached the higher level, strewn with pebbles, but exhibiting further on a rugged slaty soil, till we reached the valley Fénorang. This valley, which is a little less than a mile in breadth and two in length, is famous for its rich supply of herbage, principally of the kind called bú rékkebah, and the far-famed el hád (the camel’s dainty), and is on this account an important halting-place for the caravans coming from the north, after having traversed that naked part of the desert, which produces scarcely any food for the camel. Notwithstanding, therefore, the danger which threatened us, it was determined to remain here not only this, but also the following day.
As soon as the loads were taken off their backs, the half-starved camels fell to devouring eagerly the fine herbage offered them. Meanwhile we encamped as close together as possible, preparing ourselves for the worst, and looking anxiously around in every direction. But nobody was to be seen till the evening, when the three men on their mehára made their appearance, and, being allowed to approach the caravan, made no secret of the fact that a greater number were behind them.