[8] Like the fish-lakes of Biserta in Tunis, these salt-pits were worked by the ancients, and have been inexhaustible and unchangeable through two thousand years. Whatever may be the geological changes in other regions of the globe, those of North Africa are not very rapid, beyond filling up a few of the artificial harbours, or cothons, with mud. Barbary contains several Roman bridges which have spanned a stream remaining the same size, and running in the same bed, through a course of centuries. The salt of the Salinæ is of good quality.
[9] Bismillah, "In the name of God," the formula used by Moslems when they partake of food. In the Lingua Franca we have sometimes "Avete bismillah?" or "bismillahato?" that is, "taken your meal?"
[10] In the present application, for this Lingua Franca word generally means "vain silly shewing off." The "playing at powder," or "firing off matchlocks for amusement," is also called a fantazia in Algeria and Morocco.
CHAPTER II.
FROM TRIPOLI TO THE MOUNTAINS.
Leave Tripoli for the Interior.—Feelings on Starting.—Ghargash.—Gameo, the great quack of Tripoli.—Janzour.—Account of my Equipment.—Camels fond of the Cactus.—Arab Tents.—Jedaeen.—Zouweeah.—The Sahara.—Beer-el-Hamra.—Squabbling at the Wells.—The strength of Caravan, and character of Escort.—Shouwabeeah.—Difficulty of keeping the Caravan together.—Camels cropping herbage en route.—The Kailah or Siesta.—Arab Troops seize the Water of the Merchants.—Wady Lethel.—Irregular March of the Caravan.—Aâeeat.—Descent into Wells.—Learn the value of Water.—The Atlas and its Tripoline divisions and subdivisions.—The ascent of Yefran, and its Castle.
Nothing is more common than that, after long delay and various negotiations, in waiting and preparing for a journey, everything at last is hurried with a most reckless dispatch; this, at least, was the case with me. I was to have been escorted out of Tripoli by the Consular corps, with the British Consul at their head, in the wonted style of Europeans setting out for the interior. But on the morning of the 2nd August, before I could finish my letters for England, or get my luggage together, came my camel-driver Mohammed, who, at the sight of my papers all spread out, began whining and blubbering, protesting, "The ghafalah[11] is gone; we can't overtake it—we shall be murdered, if we delay behind." Without saying a word in reply, I amassed and bundled up everything together, and gave him the baggage; then went off to the Souk, or market-place, to buy some fresh bread,—and found myself on the way to Ghadames, before I was conscious of having left Tripoli. Such is the excitement and vagaries of human feeling! Not being accustomed to mount the camel, I determined to hire some donkeys to ride to the first station; Gameo and one of his brothers accompanied me. When I could breathe freely, as I rode on my unknown way, with a boundless prospect before me, I felt my heart rebound with joy, and commended myself humbly to the care of a good God, not knowing what was to happen to me. I had consumed three months of most suffering patience in Tripoli before I could start on this journey, and was otherwise schooled for what was about to take place. But I must not begin too early the record of my complaints.
Our first day's ride was mostly through desert lands, for The Desert reaches to the walls of the city of Tripoli. The little village of Gargash was seen at our right, near the margin of the sea. Gameo exclaimed, "There's the little mosque—there's the little cemetery—there are the little gardens, little palms!"—and little this, and little the other: indeed, it was a perfect miniature of congregated human existence. Arrived at Janzour, Gameo and his brother prepared to return. But previous to his leaving, Gameo, who was a tabeeb of great notoriety, determined to display his healing art. He took out his lancet, and forthwith bled everybody in the Kaëd's caravanseria. When his brother begged of him not to bleed any more people unless they paid him something—not to be such a sciocco ("ninny,") he turned round upon him, and indignantly exclaimed "Ancora voglio lasciare il mio nome qui" (Here I will leave my name also!) It was the delight of Gameo to be the grand tabeeb of Tripoli, and even to prescribe for the officers and subordinate bashaws; and yet Gameo and his family many days were without bread to eat, to my certain knowledge. I relieved them as much as I could. The Moors and Arabs are very funny about bleeding, and the matters of the tabeeb; they will ask you to bleed them when in perfect health. All these persons who were bled at Janzour had no ailments; they will also swallow physic, whether well or ill. One of them consulted Gameo privately how he was to obtain children from his wife, who was barren. Another wished to obtain the affections of a girl by administering to her a dose of medicine. They consider a doctor in the light, in which our fathers of the time of Friar Bacon did, of a magician, and a person who holds some sort of illicit intercourse with the devil, or, at any rate, with the genii. They never give the doctor credit for his skill, but attribute his wit and success to the blessing or interposition of God.
