About four days journey from Tripoli I met the Emir Hadje conducting the caravan of pilgrims from Fez and Sus in Morocco, all across Africa to Mecca, that is, from the Western Ocean, to the western banks of the Red Sea in the kingdom of Sennaar. He was a middle-aged man, uncle to the present emperor, of a very uncomely, stupid kind of countenance. His caravan consisted of about 3000 men, and, as his people said, from 12,000 to 14,000 camels, part loaded with merchandise, part with skins of water, flour, and other kinds of food, for the maintenance of the hadjees; they were a scurvy, disorderly, unarmed pack, and when my horsemen, tho’ but fifteen in number, came up with them in the grey of the morning, they shewed great signs of trepidation, and were already flying in confusion. When informed who they were, their fears ceased, and, after the usual manner of cowards, they became extremely insolent.
At Tripoli I met the Hon. Mr Frazer of Lovat, his Majesty’s consul in that station, from whom I received every sort of kindness, comfort, and assistance, which I very much needed after so rude a journey, made with such diligence that two of my horses died some days after.
I had hopes of finding something at Lebeda, formerly Leptis Magna[40], three days journey from Tripoli, where are indeed a great number of buildings, many of which are covered by the sands; but they are of a bad taste, mostly ill-proportioned Dorics of the time of Aurelian. Seven large columns of granite were shipped from this for France, in the reign of Louis XIV. destined for one of the palaces he was then building. The eighth was broken on the way, and lies now upon the shore. Though I was disappointed at Lebeda, ample amends were made me at Tripoli on my return.
From Tripoli I sent an English servant to Smyrna with my books, drawings, and supernumerary instruments, retaining only extracts from such authors as might be necessary for me in the Pentapolis, or other parts of the Cyrenaicum. I then crossed the Gulf of Sidra, formerly known by the name of the Syrtis Major, and arrived at Bengazi, the ancient Berenice[41], built by Ptolemy Philadelphus.
The brother of the Bey of Tripoli commanded here, a young man, as weak in understanding as he was in health. All the province was in extreme confusion. Two tribes of Arabs, occupying the territory to the west of the town, who in ordinary years, and in time of peace, were the sources of its wealth and plenty, had, by the mismanagement of the Bey, entered into deadly quarrel. The tribe that lived most to the westward, and which was reputed the weakest, had beat the most numerous that was nearest the town, called Welled Abid, and driven them within its walls. The inhabitants of Bengazi had for a year before been labouring under a severe famine, and by this accident about four thousand persons, of all ages and sexes, were forced in upon them, when perfectly destitute of every necessary. Ten or twelve people were found dead every night in the streets, and life was said in many to be supported by food that human nature shudders at the thoughts of. Impatient to fly from these Thyestean feasts, I prevailed upon the Bey to send me out some distance to the southward, among the Arabs where famine had been less felt.
I encompassed a great part of the Pentapolis, visited the ruins of Arsinoe, and, though I was much more feebly recommended than usual, I happily received neither insult nor injury. Finding nothing at Arsinoe nor Barca, I continued my journey to Ras Sem, the petrified city, concerning which so many monstrous lies were told by the Tripoline ambassador, Cassem Aga, at the beginning of this century, and all believed in England, though they carried falsehood upon the very face of them[42]. It was not then the age of incredulity, we were fast advancing to the celebrated epoch of the man in the pint-bottle, and from that time to be as absurdly incredulous as we were then the reverse, and with the same degree of reason.
Ras Sem is five long days journey south from Bengazi; it has no water, except a spring very disagreeable to the taste, that appears to be impregnated with alum, and this has given it the name it bears of Ras Sem, or the Fountain of Poison, from its bitterness. The whole remains here consist in the ruins of a tower or fortification, that seems to be a work full as late as the time of the Vandals. How or what use they made of this water I cannot possibly guess; they had no other at the distance of two days journey. I was not fortunate enough to discover the petrified men and horses, the women at the churn, the little children, the cats, the dogs, and the mice, which his Barbarian excellency assured Sir Hans Sloane existed there: Yet, in vindication of his Excellency, I must say, that though he propagated, yet he did not invent this falsehood; the Arabs who conducted me maintained the same stories to be true, till I was within two hours of the place, where I found them to be false. I saw indeed mice[43], as they are called, of a very extraordinary kind, having nothing of petrifaction about them, but agile and active, so to partake as much of the bird as the beast.
Approaching now the sea-coast I came to Ptolometa, the ancient Ptolemais[44], the work of Ptolemy Philadelphus, the walls and gates of which city are still entire. There is a prodigious number of Greek inscriptions, but there remain only a few columns of the portico, and an Ionic temple, in the first manner of executing that order; and therefore, slight as the remains are, they are treasures in the history of architecture which are worthy to be preserved. These are in the King’s collection, with all the parts that could be recovered.
Here I met a small Greek junk belonging to Lampedosa, a little island near Crete, which had been unloading corn, and was now ready to sail. At the same time the Arabs of Ptolometa told me, that the Welled Ali, a powerful tribe that occupy the whole country between that place and Alexandria, were at war among themselves, and had plundered the caravan of Morocco, of which I have already spoken, and that the pilgrims composing it had mostly perished, having been scattered in the desert without water; that a great famine had been at Derna, the neighbouring town, to which I intended to go; that a plague had followed, and the town, which is divided into upper and lower, was engaged in a civil war. This torrent of ill news was irresistible, and was of a kind I did not propose to wrestle with; besides, there was nothing, as far as I knew, that merited the risk. I resolved, therefore, to fly from this inhospitable coast, and save to the public, at least, that knowledge and entertainment I had acquired for them.
I embarked on board the Greek vessel, very ill accoutred, as we afterwards found, and, though it had plenty of sail, it had not an ounce of ballast. A number of people, men, women, and children, flying from the calamities which attend famine, crowded in unknown to me; but the passage was short, the vessel light, and the master, as we supposed, well accustomed to these seas. The contrary of this, however, was the truth, as we learned afterwards, when too late, for he was an absolute landsman; proprietor indeed of the vessel, but this had been his first voyage. We sailed at dawn of day in as favourable and pleasant weather as ever I saw at sea. It was the beginning of September, and a light and steady breeze, though not properly fair, promised a short and agreeable voyage; but it was not long before it turned fresh and cold; we then had a violent shower of hail, and the clouds were gathering as if for thunder. I observed that we gained no offing, and hoped, if the weather turned bad, to persuade the Captain to put into Bengazi, for one inconvenience he presently discovered, that they had not provision on board for one day.