I have already sufficiently dwelt upon the ancient history, the names, manners, and people that inhabit the banks of this river. It was the Siris (or river of the dog-star) whilst that negro, uncivilized people, the Cushites of the island of Meroë, resided upon its banks. It was then called the Tan-nush Abay, or the lesser of two rivers that swelled with the tropical rains, which was the name the peasants, or unlearned, gave it, from comparison with the Nile. It was the Tacazzè in Derkin or the dwelling of the Taka, before it joined the Nile in Beja, and it was the Astaboras of those of the ancients that took the Nile for the Siris. It is now the Atbara, giving its name to that peninsula, which it incloses on the east as the Nile does on the west, and which was formerly the island of Meroë; but it never was the Tekesel, as authors have called it, deriving the name from the Ethiopic word Taka, which undoubtedly signifies, fear, terror, distress, or sadness; I mean, this was never the derivation of its name. Far from this idea, our Tacazzé is one of the pleasantest rivers in the world, shaded with fine lofty trees, its banks covered with bushes inferior in fragrance to no garden in the universe; its stream is the most limpid, its water excellent, and full of good fish of great variety, as its coverts are of all sorts of game.
It must be confessed, that, during the inundation, these things wear a contrary face. It carries in its bed near one-third of all the water that falls in Abyssinia; and we saw the mark the stream had reached the preceding year, eighteen feet above the bottom of the river, which we do not know was the highest point that it arrived at. But three fathoms it certainly had rolled in its bed; and this prodigious body of water, passing furiously from a high ground in a very deep descent, tearing up rocks and large trees in its course, and forcing down their broken fragments scattered on its stream, with a noise like thunder echoed from a hundred hills, these very naturally suggest an idea, that, from these circumstances, it is very rightly called the terrible. But then it must be considered, that all rivers in Abyssinia at the same time equally overflow; that every stream makes these ravages upon its banks; and that there is nothing in this that peculiarly affects the Tacazzè, or should give it this special name: at least, such is my opinion; though it is with great willingness I leave every reader in possession of his own, especially in etymology.
At half an hour past eight we began a gradual descent, at first easily enough, till we crossed the small brook called Maitemquet, or, the water of baptism. We then began to descend very rapidly in a narrow path, winding along the side of the mountain, all shaded with lofty timber-trees of great beauty. About three miles further we came to the edge of the stream at the principal ford of the Tacazzé, which is very firm and good; the bottom consists of small pebbles, without either sand or large stones. The river here at this time was fully 200 yards broad, the water perfectly clear, and running very swiftly; it was about three feet deep. This was the dry season of the year, when most rivers in Abyssinia ran now no more.
In the middle of the stream we met a deserter from Ras Michael’s army, with his firelock upon his shoulder, driving before him two miserable girls about ten years old, stark-naked, and almost famished to death, the part of the booty which had fallen to his share in laying waste the country of Maitsha, after the battle. We asked him of the truth of this news, but he would give us no satisfaction; sometimes he said there had been a battle, sometimes none. He apparently had some distrust, that one or other of the facts, being allowed to be true, might determine us as to some design we might have upon him and his booty. He had not, in my eyes, the air of a conqueror, but rather of a coward that had sneaked away, and stolen these two miserable wretches he had with him. I asked where Michael was? If at Buré? where, upon defeat of Fasil, he naturally would be. He said, No; he was at Ibaba, the capital of Maitsha; and this gave us no light, it being the place he would go to before, while detachments of his army might be employed in burning and laying waste the country of the enemy he had determined to ruin, rather than return to it some time after a battle. At last we were obliged to leave him. I gave him some flour and tobacco, both which he took very thankfully; but further intelligence he would not give.
The banks of the Tacazzé are all covered, at the water’s edge, with tamarisks; behind which grow high and straight trees, that seem to have gained additional strength from having often resisted the violence of the river. Few of these ever lose their leaves, but are either covered with fruit, flower, or foliage the whole year; indeed, abundantly with all three during the six months fair weather. The Bohabab, indeed, called, in the Amharic language, Dooma, loses its leaf; it is the largest tree in Abyssinia; the trunk is never high; it diminishes very regularly from the top to the bottom, but not beautifully; it has the appearance of a large cannon, and puts out a multitude of strong branches, which do not fall low, or nearly horizontal, but follow a direction, making all of them smaller angles than that of 45°. The fruit is of the shape of a melon, rather longer for its thickness; within are black seeds in each of the cells, into which it is divided, and round them a white substance, very like fine sugar, which is sweet, with a small degree of very pleasant acid. I never saw it either in leaf or flower; the fruit hang dry upon the branches when they are deprived of both. The wood of this tree is soft and spungy, and of no use. The wild bees perforate the trunk, and lodge their honey in the holes made in it; and this honey is preferred to any other in Abyssinia.
Beautiful and pleasant, however, as this river is, like every thing created, it has its disadvantages. From the falling of the first rains in March till November it is death to sleep in the country adjoining to it, both within and without its banks; the whole inhabitants retire and live in villages on the top of the neighbouring mountains; and these are all robbers and assassins, who descend from their habitations on the heights to lie in wait for, and plunder the travellers that pass. Notwithstanding great pains have been taken by Michael, his son, and grandson, governors of Tigré and Siré, this passage had never been so far cleared but, every month, people are cut off.
The plenty of fish in this river occasions more than an ordinary number of crocodiles to resort hither. These are so daring and fearless, that when the river swells, so as to be passable only by people upon rafts, or skins blown up with wind, they are frequently carried off by these voracious and vigilant animals. There are also many hippopotami, which, in this country, are called Gomari. I never saw any of these in the Tacazzè; but at night we heard them snort, or groan, in many parts of the river near us. There are also vast multitudes of lions and hyænas in all these thickets. We were very much disturbed by them all night. The smell of our mules and horses had drawn them in numbers about our tent, but they did us no further harm, except obliging us to watch. I found the latitude of the ford, by many observations, the night of the 26th, taking a medium of them all, to be 13° 42´ 45´´ north.
The river Tacazzè is, as I have already said, the boundary of the province of Sirè. We now entered that of Samen, which was hostile to us, being commanded by Ayto Tesfos, who, since the murder of Joas, had never laid down his arms, nor acknowledged his neighbour, Michael, as Ras, nor Hannes the king, last made, as sovereign. He had remained on the top of a high rock called the Jews Rock, about eight miles from the ford. For these reasons, as well as that it was the most agreeable spot we had ever yet seen, we left our station on the Tacazzè with great regret.
On the 27th of January, a little past six in the morning, we continued some short way along the river’s side, and, at forty minutes past six o’clock, came to Ingerohha, a small rivulet rising in the plain above, which, after a short course through a deep valley, joins the Tacazzè. At half past seven we left the river, and began to ascend the mountains, which forms the south side of the valley, or banks of that river. The path is narrow, winds as much, and is as steep as the other, but not so woody. What makes it, however, still more disagreeable is, that every way you turn you have a perpendicular precipice into a deep valley below you. At half past eight we arrived at the top of the mountain; and, at half past nine, halted, at Tabulaqué, having all the way passed among ruined villages, the monuments of Michael’s cruelty or justice; for it is hard to say whether the cruelty, robberies, and violence of the former inhabitants did not deserve the severest chastisement.
We saw many people feeding cattle on the plain, and we again opened a market for flour and other provisions, which we procured in barter for cohol, incense, and beads. None but the young women appeared. They were of a lighter colour, taller, and in general more beautiful than those at Kella. Their noses seemed flatter than those of the Abyssinians we had yet seen. Perhaps the climate here was beginning that feature so conspicuous in the negroes in general, and particularly of those in this country called Shangalla, from whose country these people are not distant above two days journey. They seemed inclined to be very hard in all bargains but those of one kind, in which they were most reasonable and liberal. They all agreed, that these favours ought to be given and not sold, and that all coyness and courtship was but loss of time, which always might be employed better to the satisfaction of both. These people are less gay than those at Kella, and their conversation more rough and peremptory. They understood both the Tigrè language and Amharic, although we supposed it was in compliance to us that they conversed chiefly in the former.