The people of the second attack are called Aghazar: these are also Arab Tuaricks, or people living in tents. They were joined by people from Seloufeeat, Tintaghoda, and all the neighbouring places.
The people appear to have gathered all confusedly together, headed by their chiefs and countenanced by the marabouts, to destroy the Infidels who were come to pollute their country; but, undoubtedly, the major part were excited against us by the hope of plunder.
All the inhabitants of Ghanet[11] are Maghata, or descendants of the children of the Tuaricks, Haghar and Azgher, which were born to them by their slaves. It is these Maghata who were said to be in pursuit of us under Sidi Jafel. There are many of the same people in the open desert, for the most part bandits, or at least inclined to that way of life. They levy contributions on the caravans, and on the settled people when they can venture.
The valley, which embraces Seloufeeat and Tintaghoda, is said to extend, by a series of connexions, as far as Zinder,—probably a fanciful connexion of the people. It is a most picturesque wady, lined with black granite rocks, some rising high into castellated peaks on the south-east, with a lower range of hills on the north-west. It is not above half a mile wide in its mean breadth; herbage does not abound over all its bed, but trees cover its surface. The water is mostly rain water; here and there, however, springs are found. All the water is good, and copious in supply.
If we may judge from what we have seen of the marks of late rains in these districts, and the freshness of the herbage, the rainy season is just beginning in Aheer. There is not yet very abundant herbage, but it will soon greatly increase.
The rain continues to pour in torrents, the boundary mountains on either hand are scarcely visible, and a watery vapour prevents us from tracing the course of the valley. We have hitherto had to struggle against mental anxieties, against fatigues, heat, drought, and thirst: we have now to contend with rain and with floods. Everything is becoming awfully damp, and everybody looks awfully dismal. I can see, from the lugubrious countenances of the Kailouees and the blacks, that the rainy season is their real winter. They go shivering about, and seem as if they were half drowned. Our Bornou gauze-cotton tent still bears up well, however, and keeps out the rain.
I was engaged in admiring the tent, and in reflecting on the changed region into which we had entered—a region of luxuriant vegetation and watery atmosphere—when there was again a wild holloa of "The floods are pouring down upon us! The wady is coming!" Our people, however, contented themselves at first with shouting, and made no preparations for the advancing flood; but in a short time they found it necessary to bestir themselves, and began to make dams and dykes, with the aid of sticks and hatches. These expedients proved of no avail. The waters swelled wildly up, higher and higher, and sheets of foaming waves came whirling in amongst us. I called out to Yusuf to select some high ground at once, to which our goods might be conveyed. He calmly replied, "The people still stay where they are;" implying that there was no danger, that the inundation would subside like the former one, and that we should escape with a wetting. Not so, however. All the low parts of the valley were already covered with a turbid stream, that broke fiercely round the trunks of the trees; and at length the mounting tide threatened our tent. Yusuf then made a little child's dam around, as if in sport; but in a few minutes this was swept away, and we found ourselves standing in the water.
It was now absolutely necessary to move; and our people, who seemed until then to have been paralysed by the humidity, as we in northern climates sometimes are with cold, began to bestir themselves, and to transfer our tents and baggage to a piece of ground which rose considerably above the level of the valley, and was surrounded with rushing waters. The remainder of the caravan imitated us, and we soon saw them all occupying the summits of little islands, whither the camels, at least such as did not instinctively take refuge there themselves, were also driven. This was a good opportunity of seeing a specimen of African character. The Kailouees made no preparation for the deluge until the last moment, and then seemed absolutely to make the worst possible. They rolled their bales of dry goods in the water as if they were so many logs of wood, although by lifting them up a little all might have at first been saved quite dry. Meanwhile the black servants were dancing, singing, and rolling about in the waters, as if some sudden blessing had overtaken them.[12]
The water still continued to rise, and to foam over the margin of the island. We were compelled by degrees to retreat towards the centre, and as there was no sign of abatement, and as the whole valley had become one rushing river, covered with floating trees,—some shooting singly along, others entangled into rafts or floating islands, I began to entertain serious misgivings. Never was there a more perfect picture of a deluge! It was the Biblical deluge in miniature: and I calculated with intense interest how many inches additional rise would utterly destroy our goods, and how many inches more peril our lives. The most gloomy forebodings troubled me. I had always looked forward to Aheer as a haven of safety, and instead thereof it had proved to be a place of persecution. When men had ceased to fight against us, nature began. I thought I could hear the fanatical people of Tintaghoda say one to the other, "Ah! they saved their lives by money, but now God comes in to punish and destroy them." Yet whilst I stood apart and tortured myself in this wise, our people, children of the day, who take no thought for the morrow, satisfied that the waves had not yet reached them, were full of merriment and laughter, and seemed to mock the flood, that still rose and rose, bending the largest trees, sweeping away the brushwood, and roaring angrily around the margin of the islands. Perhaps they knew that their lives, at least, were safe; whilst I reflected that, if even we could swim to shore, leaving our property to the wild mercies of the waves, we should land in an enemy's country, without the means of satisfying the cupidity of the first bandit who chose to attack us, and would most probably soon be sacrificed.
I was anxiously watching the progress of the inundation when at last it seemed to be checked, and no longer to rise. God had not, then, abandoned us, and we were not driven from the fire to the waters to perish! The flood remained stationary for awhile, still rolling along the valley, which it seemed to fill from side to side; then we noticed a slight decrease, then a progressive and rapid one: hope buoyed up our spirits, and we thanked the Almighty for our deliverance. As I have mentioned, I have seen floods before, but never one on so grand a scale as this, which was truly African in its magnitude and character.