The immense mass of the wall, measuring in its lower part not less than thirty feet, and its wide circumference, made a deep impression upon me. The town (if town it may be called) presented a most cheerful rural scene, with its detached light cottages, and its stubble-fields shaded with a variety of fine trees; but I suspect that this ground was not entirely covered with dwellings even during the most glorious period of Kátsena. We travelled a mile and a half before we reached the “zínsere,” a small dwelling used by the governor as a place of audience—on account, as it seems, of a splendid widespreading fig-tree growing close to it, and forming a thick shady canopy sufficient for a large number of people.
I, however, was conducted to the other side of the building, where a quadrangular chamber projects from the half-decayed wall, and had there to wait a long time, till the governor came into town from his new country seat. Having at last arrived, he called me, and, thanking me for remaining with him, he promised that I should be well treated as his guest, and that without delay a house should be placed at my disposal. He was a man of middle age, and had much in his manners and features which made him resemble an actor; and such he really is, and was still more so in his younger days.
Taking leave of him for the present, I followed Bel-Ghét to my quarters; but we had still a good march to make, first through detached dwellings of clay, then leaving the immense palace of the governor on our left, and entering what may be strictly called the town, with connected dwellings. Here I was lodged in a small house opposite the spacious dwelling of Bel-Ghét; and though on first entering I found it almost insupportable, I soon succeeded in making myself tolerably comfortable in a clean room neatly arranged. It seemed to have once formed the snug seat for a well-furnished harím; at least the dark passages leading to the interior could not be penetrated by a stranger’s eye. We had scarcely taken possession of our quarters when the governor sent me a ram and two ox-loads of corn—one of “dáwa,” and the other of “géro.” But instead of feeling satisfied with this abundant provision, we were quite horrified at it, as I with my three people might have subsisted a whole year on the corn sent us; and we began to have uneasy forebodings of a long detention. Indeed, we suspected, and were confirmed in our suspicion by the statements of several people, that it was the governor’s real intention to forward me directly to Sókoto, a circumstance which alienated from me my servants—even the faithful Mohammed el Gatróni, who was much afraid of going there.
However, my new protector, Bel-Ghét, did not leave me much time for reflection, but soon came back to take me again to the governor. Having sat awhile in the cool shade of the tree, we were called into his audience-room, which was nothing more than the round hut or dérne (“zaure” in Kanúri) which generally forms the entrance and passage-room in every Púllo establishment. Besides myself, the háj Bel-Ghét, and his constant companion Músa, there was also the wealthy merchant Háj Wáli, whom I had seen in Tasáwa, when he tried to persuade me to follow the men sent to take me to Zínder, while he now sought to represent the governor of Kátsena as the greatest man in all Negroland, and the best friend I could have. The governor soon began to display his talent as an actor, and had the unfortunate letter from the Sultan of Ágades read, interpreted, and commented upon. According to the sagacious interpretation of these men, the purport of the letter was to recommend me expressly to this governor as a fit person to be detained in his company. All my representations to the effect that my friend ʿAbd el Káder had recommended me in exactly the same terms to the governors of Dáura and Kanó, and that I had forwarded a letter from Ágades to the Emír el Múmenín, in Sókoto, informing him that as soon as we had received new supplies from the coast one of us at least would certainly pay him a visit, which under present circumstances, robbed and destitute as we were, we could not well do, were all in vain; he had an answer for every objection, and was impudent enough to tell me that a message had been received from Marádi, soliciting me to go thither; that as Bórnu had laid hold of one of my companions, and Marádi of the other, so he would lay hold of me, but of course only in order to become my benefactor (“se al khére”). Seeing that reply was useless, and that it was much better to let this lively humourist go through his performance, and to wait patiently for the end of the comedy, I took leave of him, and returned to my quarters.
Late in the evening the governor sent for Mohammed, who could scarcely be expected, with his fiery and inconsiderate behaviour, to improve the state of things; and as the governor’s dwelling was a good way off, I was obliged to allow him to go armed with a pair of pistols, which soon attracted the attention of our host, who complained bitterly that while all the petty chiefs had received from us such splendid presents, he, the greatest man in Negroland, had got nothing. Mohammed having told him that the pistols belonged to me, he wanted me to present them to him; but this I obstinately refused, as I was convinced that the whole success of our further proceedings depended on our firearms.
I was rather glad when el Wákhshi called upon me the following morning, as I trusted he might help me out of the scrape. After conversing with him about my situation, I went out with him to stroll about the town. We had gone, however, but a little way when Bel-Ghét saw us, and reprimanded me severely for going out without asking his permission. Growing rather warm at such humiliating treatment, I told him, in very plain terms, that as long as the governor refrained from posting soldiers before my door I would regard myself as a free man, and at liberty to go where I chose. Seeing that he could not wreak his anger directly upon me, he tried to do it indirectly, by reprimanding my companion for going about with this “káfer,” and confirming the “káfer” in his refractoriness against the will of the Sultan. Not feeling much honoured with the title thus bestowed on me, I told him that as yet nobody in the whole town had insulted me with that epithet, but that he alone had the insolence to apply it. When the miserable fellow saw me irritated he did not hesitate to declare that, though well versed in the Kurán, he had been entirely unaware of the meaning of “káfer,” and begged me to give him full information about the relations of the English to the various Mohammedan states. When I came to speak about Morocco he interrupted me, as, being a native of Gurára, he might be presumed to know the relations of those countries better than I did; and he insisted that the English were not on good terms with the Emperor of Morocco and were not allowed to visit Fás (Fez). I then declared to him that there could scarcely be a more unmistakable proof of the friendly relations existing between the English and Mulʿa ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán than the present of four magnificent horses, which the latter had lately sent to the Queen of England. He then confessed that he was more of an antiquarian, and ignorant of the present state of matters; but he was quite sure that during the time of Mulʿa Ismʿaíl it certainly was as he had stated. To this I replied, that while all the Mohammedan states, including Morocco, had since that time declined in power, the Christians, and the English in particular, had made immense steps in advance. We then shook hands, and I left the poor Moslim to his own reflections.
Proceeding with el Wákhshi on our intended promenade, and laughing at the scrape into which he had almost got by changing (in the dispute with Bel-Ghét) the honorary title of the latter, “Sultàn ben eʾ Sultán” (Sultan, son of Sultan), into that of “Shitán ben eʾ Shitán” (Satan, son of Satan), we went to the house of a ghadámsi, where we found several Arab and native merchants collected together, and among them a ghadámsi who bore the same name as that which, for more friendly intercourse with the natives, I had adopted on these journeys, namely, that of ʿAbd el Kerím. This man had accompanied ʿAbd Allah (Clapperton) on his second journey from Kanó to Sókoto, and was well acquainted with all the circumstances attending his death. He was greatly surprised to hear that “Ríshar” (Richard Lander), whom he had believed to be a younger brother of Clapperton, had not only successfully reached the coast, after his circuitous journey to Danróro, and after having been dragged back by force from his enterprising march upon Fanda, but had twice returned from England to those quarters before he fell a victim to his arduous exertions.
I then returned, with my old Ghadámsi friend, to my lodgings, where Bel-Ghét came soon after us, and once more begged my pardon for having called me “káfer.”
Afterwards el Wákhshi brought me a loaf of sugar, that I might make a present of it to Bel-Ghét. On this occasion he cast his eyes on a small telescope which I had bought in Paris for six francs, and begged me to give it to him for the loaf of sugar which he had just lent me. I complied with his wish. Taking the loaf of sugar with me, and the two other letters of the Sultan of Ágades, as well that addressed to the Governor of Dáura, as that to the Governor of Kanó, I went to Bel-Ghét, and, presenting him with the sugar as a small token of my acknowledgment for the trouble he was taking in my behalf, I showed him the letters as a proof that the Sultan of Ágades never intended to forward me to his friend the Governor of Kátsena as a sort of “abenchí” or a tit-bit for himself, but that he acknowledged entirely my liberty of action, and really wished to obtain protection for me wherever I might choose to go. Bel-Ghét, being touched by the compliments I paid him, affected to understand now for the first time the real circumstances of my case, and promised to lend me his assistance if I would bind myself to return to Kátsena from Bórnu, after having received sufficient supplies from the coast. This I did to a certain degree, under the condition that circumstances should not prove unfavourable to such a proceeding; indeed I doubted at that time very much whether I should be able to return this way again. But when I did re-visit Kátsena in the beginning of 1853, with a considerable supply of presents, and met before the gates of the town this same man, who had been sent to compliment me on the part of the same governor, it was a triumph which I could scarcely have expected. The old man was on the latter occasion almost beside himself with joy, and fell upon my neck exclaiming, over and over again, “ʿAbd el Kerím! ʿAbd el Kerím!” while I told him, “Here I am, although both my companions have died; I am come to fulfil my promise. I am on my way to Sókoto, with valuable presents for the Emír el Múmenín.”