Early in the afternoon we encamped in the valley Imenán, a little outside the line of herbage and trees, on an open spot at the southern foot of a low rocky eminence. The valley, overgrown as it was with large talha-trees and the oat-grass called bú rékkebah, of tall, luxuriant growth, was pleasant, and invited us to repose. But before sunset our tranquillity was greatly disturbed by the appearance of five of our well-known marauding companions, mounted on camels, and leading six others. They dismounted within less than a pistol-shot from our tents, and with wild ferocious laughter were discussing their projects with the Azkár in our caravan.
I could scarcely suppress a laugh when several of the Tinýlkum came and brought us the ironical assurance that there was now perfect security, and that we might indulge in sound sleep. Others came with the less agreeable but truer warning that we ought not to sleep that night. The greatest alarm and excitement soon spread through the caravan. Later in the evening, while our benevolent guests were devouring their supper, Mohammed el Túnsi called me and Overweg aside, and informed us that we were threatened with great danger indeed, these Hogár, as he called them, having brought a letter from Nakhnúkhen, authorizing them to collect people in the territory of the Kél-owí, and there to despatch us in such a way that not even a trace of us should be found, but not to touch us so long as we were within the confines of the Azkár.
I was convinced that this account, so far as it regarded Nakhnúkhen, was an absurd fiction of our persecutors; and I tried to persuade our servant to this effect. When he returned from us to the caravan, a council of war was held, and a resolution passed, that if a number of from twenty to thirty people came to attack us they would undertake to defend us, but if we should be threatened by a more numerous host they would try to make a compromise by yielding up a part of our goods. In consequence of this resolution, all possible warlike preparations were made once more, and Bóro delivered another speech; but it seemed rather irreconcilable with such a state of things that while we, as well as the Tinýlkum, brought all our camels close to our tents at an early hour, the Kél-owí left theirs out the whole night. Perhaps, being natives of the country, they did not expect that the freebooters would seize their animals.
Be this as it may, great anxiety arose when early in the morning it was found that the camels were gone; and when day broke our guests of last night, who had stolen away before midnight, were seen riding down from the rocky ridge on the south, and with a commanding air calling the principal men of the caravan to a council. Then followed the scenes which Mr. Richardson has so graphically described.
I will only mention that Bóro Serki-n-turáwa, sword in hand, led us on with great energy. He called me to keep close to him; and I think that now (when we had atoned for the neglect with which he had been treated by us, by assuring him that we were convinced of his high position and influence in the country) he had the honest intention to protect us. Of the Tinýlkum only our faithful Músa and the amiable young Slimán adhered to us and of the other people, the Tawáti and Mohammed eʾ Sfaksi, although the latter trembled with fear and was as pale as death, Yusuf Mukni remained behind. Fárreji on this occasion behaved with great courage, and bravely challenged the enemy. What frightened the latter most were the bayonets on our guns, as they saw that, after having received our fire, they would not yet have done with us, but would still have a weapon to encounter at least as formidable as their own spears. As soon as the enemy had protested that he was only come against us as Christians, all sympathy for us ceased in the caravan. All expected that we would become Moslemín without great difficulty; and our servant Mohammed, when we rejected this condition as an impossibility, immediately relapsed into his ordinary impudence, laughing in our faces because, forsooth, we were so absurd as still to think of some other expedient. This clever but spoiled youngster was a protégé of the British consulate in Tunis.
At length all seemed to be settled. The whole host of the enemy, besides its rich booty, had been treated with an enormous quantity of mohamsa, and we had repeatedly been assured that now we might be certain of reaching the chief Ánnur’s residence without any further disturbance, when the little Ánnur, a man of honest but mild character, came to beg us most earnestly to be on our guard, lest behind the rocks and ridges there might still be some persons in ambush. At length we left this inhospitable place; but we were far from being at ease, for it was clear that there was still a cloud on the horizon, which might easily gather to another storm. After a short march, we encamped in a small valley without pitching our tents. The Merábet who had accompanied and sanctioned the expedition against us was now in our company, and that was thought to be the best means of preventing any further molestation. This man, as I made out afterwards, was no other than Ibrahím Aghá-batúre (the son of Háj Beshír, a well-known and influential person settled in Ferwán, or Iferwán), who, in consequence of these proceedings, was afterwards punished severely by the Sultan of Ágades. With Aghá-batúre himself I met accidentally at a later period, in 1853, near Zinder, when he was greatly astonished to see me still alive, notwithstanding all the hardships I had gone through. Bóro, who passed the evening with him in reading the Kurán, treated him hospitably—with Mr. Richardson’s mohamsa.
Monday, August 26.—After a march of three miles and a half, having ascended a little, we obtained a clear view of the great mountain mass which, lying between Tídik, on the north and Tintagh-odé on the west, seems not to be marked with a collective proper name, although it is very often called by the people Mount Absen. But I cannot say whether this name, which is the old Góber name for the whole country called the Berbers Aïr, belonged originally only to these mountains, or whether it is now given to them merely on account of their being the conspicuous elevation of the country so named, to people coming from the north; for this, according to the unanimous statement of the Kél-owí, is the frontier of Sudán, to which neither Tághajít nor even Tídik belongs. The Tuarek, it would seem, have no indigenous proper name for Sudán (properly Beled eʾ sudán) or Negroland; most of them call it Agús (the south). Nevertheless Tekrúr seems to be an ancient Libyan name for Negroland.
A remarkable peak called Téngik or Tímge towers over this mountain mass, being, according to the intelligent old chief Ánnur (who ought to be well acquainted with his own country), the most elevated point in the whole country of Aïr. Unfortunately our situation in the country was such that we could not think of exploring this very interesting northern barrier, which must be supposed to possess many beautiful glens and valleys. But we were still at some distance from these picturesque mountains, and had to cross a very rugged and dreary waste, where, however, we caught sight of the first ostrich as yet seen on our journey. We encamped at length in a shallow valley devoid of any interesting features.
During the night, while I was on the first watch, walking round the encampment of the caravan, it struck me that at one end of it, beyond the Kél-owí, a small party was separately encamped. When I went there the first time all was quiet; but a little after eleven o’clock (for in general, on such a journey, every one lies down at an early hour), hearing a noise on that side, and turning thither, I saw two armed Tuarek saddle their mehára, and make off in the gloom of night. From this circumstance I concluded that something was still going on against us; but as it appeared useless to make an alarm, I only took the precaution to put Overweg, who succeeded me on the watch, upon his guard.
Tuesday, August 27.—We started at a very early hour; but fortunately the moonlight was so clear and beautiful that I was not interrupted for a moment in marking down all the features of the country—at least along our route, for our situation was now too precarious to allow of our observing angles to fix the exact position of mountains lying at some distance from us. The road in general continued rugged for the first six miles, and formed at times very difficult passes; but, notwithstanding these obstacles, the whole caravan kept as close together as possible, and so frustrated the plans of our persecutors, who, as we concluded from the appearance of several Mehára in the distance, intended to attack us on the road, if occasion offered. There are two roads, the easternmost of which passes further on through a remarkable gorge in the mountains, which we had for a long time ahead of us. Here, where we turned off with a westerly deviation, beautiful white marble, but slightly weatherworn on the surface, appeared between the nodules of granite and gneiss, while on our right we had a rocky ridge called Itsa, the crest of which was indented in a most remarkable way. Further on, where for a while we entered on a gravelly soil, the whole ground was covered with fresh footsteps of camels and men, and there was not the least doubt that another host was gathering against us.