Afterwards went to see the Moorish Secretary Kaëd, installed in the Castle. This functionary is placed here principally for the dispatch of the mails backwards and forwards. The secretary does not interfere with the Sheikh who commands the garrison, and only attends to couriers and the little affairs of the village. For this work he has the large salary of three dollars per month. It seemed as if imbrogliamento was the order of the day, for here I witnessed a row as violent as my own. An old Arab, very crusty and obstinate, had arrived from Sockna on Government business. He was to receive money from the Kaed, and pay money to him. The Kaed would not pay, and he would not pay. The old gentleman sat down before the irritated functionary, and holding the teskera and a new Turkish passport in his hand, said, "Give me my rights. Why rob you a poor man? Is it because I am poor and old you rob me? Fear I the Sultan? Why should I fear you or the Sultan? I fear alone God." The excited Kaed could no longer restrain himself. He seized the papers out of the hands of the Arab and tore them to pieces, exclaiming, "Go out, you dog!" Besides this the Kaed threatened the bastinado. The hangers-on of his Excellency carried the old man out of the apartment until the wrath of their dwarf tyrant had cooled down. The affair afterwards ended by both parties accepting and paying their mutual claims. The Arabs are greatly exasperated about these passports, which, indeed, are of no possible use, and are only used by these petty functionaries to extort money from the poor people. An Arab said to me, showing the animus of the question hereabouts, "Before our Sultan became a Christian we never heard of these teskeras. Now that he is become an infidel, he sends us these accursed things to take away our money, and rob our children of bread." The poor Sultan, in fact, if he can get hold of any detestable thing of European civilization, is sure to adopt it, to torment his subjects.
Spent the rest of the day within the Castle, gossiping with the Arab soldiers, their Sheikh, and the Kaed. To-day I was thankful for two things, for having inflicted a salutary lesson on the iniquitous slave-driver, and for being sheltered from the sun and wind. The Castle has three towers at three of its corners, but not rising much higher than the upper terrace walls. The outer walls are about twelve or fifteen feet high, and as usual pierced with holes for musketry. I did not see any mounted ordnance. Within is a fine court yard, and there is a detached breast-work of defence over the entrance. It is very comfortable in many of its apartments, affording a most effectual shelter from wind and heat. The short time of service makes the Arab soldiers cheerful, and they are pretty well fed and enjoy good health. There is no fever, but they tell me there are a few cases of the Enghiddee of Soudan, a fine silken worm formed under the cuticle of the body, mostly on the legs and arms, already described under the name of Arak-El-Abeed[57]. Arabs do not catch this disorder so much as merchants going to Soudan. The only arms these troops have, is the matchlock or musket, on some of which the bayonet is mounted. From the top of the Castle the surrounding country presents an unbroken mass of desert, and more distantly low ridges of mountains and sand hills. The Kaed assures me, however, that in seven years he will have a fine plantation of palms. He has planted several, and is about to fetch some choice shoots from Tripoli. With toil and care The Desert, in truth, can not only be rendered habitable and tractable, but even comfortable, as the building of this fort well proves. It has been built since Mr. Gagliuffi passed this way to Mourzuk, and I am the only European who has seen this bran-new town of Bonjem. The Bashaw of Tripoli boasts of it as his work, and on my return begged me to give him a sketch of it, which I did, but for which I received no thanks. A few snakes are often seen coiling themselves on the shrubs, gazelles, aoudads, and wild oxen, skip and bound and run about, now and then an ostrich races past or sails along, half in heaven and half on earth, and deebs (wolves) come down to drink at the pits during the night. But the Arabs are not allowed to hunt, nor garden or dig; their duty is to spend the live-long day in "strenuous idleness," or doing nothing but sleep and lounge. To-day was hot and sultry. The female slaves were very busy in washing themselves. They afterwards had a good race stark naked, running after me and grinning. It is very seldom they commit such breaches of modesty. In general, the Negress is very modest in her manners, more so than Mooresses.
I congratulated myself in having a comfortable sleep under roof to-night. I felt glad also for a rest here of a couple of days. In travelling through Sahara, one or two days greatly relieve you without making you feel that you have been stopping when you again mount the camel, whilst a rest of a week often makes a new journey and a new tour, and you feel all the pain and misery of beginning again.
6th to the 11th.—My journal gets very fragmentary, confused, and enigmatical. Many of the memorandums I cannot recal to mind. I find I was getting at this time much exhausted, and weary of writing. My health, indeed, was being greatly undermined, and suffering was become my daily solace! Often I could not stand when lifted off my camel. Sometimes I was senseless for an hour or two after we had encamped. I expected "to get used to it." Vain thought! I was just as tired and stiff with riding the last day as the first day when I started on the tour, besides having my health and strength essentially impaired.
We directed our course to Misratah, instead of Benioleed, on account of there being more water in the former route. Benioleed, or Ben Waleed—بن وليد—lies to the north-west of Bonjem, but Misratah nearly due north. I was disappointed in not seeing Benioleed, on account of its Hesperian valley of olives, and other fruit-trees scattered in paradisal beauty and profusion. The valley, in which the town is situate, lies at the base of some of the lofty ridges of the Tripoline Atlas, and contains a population of about three thousand souls. I was glad to hear there were some Europeans now employed in improving the wells of the town, sent by the Bashaw, all which denotes progress in the Turk. Benioleed is six good days' journey from Bonjem, and four or five from Tripoli.
Nothing remarkable occurred in our route from Bonjem to Misratah. Before arriving at Bonjem, I saw, by the nature of the country, that we were approaching the regions of rain, herbage and shrubs increasing on every side. The country also assumed a more even, though an undulating surface; and I lost sight of those low, dull, dreary, and monotonous ridges which characterize the desolations, of the African Wilderness. However, I expected to see the eastern terminations of the Tripoline Atlas. Continuing our six days' route, now west, now north-west, now north, and now north-east and east, wriggling in serpentine style about, we arrived at length within open-culture lands, where were two or three small patches of barley, mostly in ear, not being irrigated, but left to the free rains of heaven. The sight of these made my heart bound with joy: now I knew I had got without the bounds of the dry and desolate Sahara! There seemed to be something so fresh and natural about barley-fields, depending for life and growth on the fattening rains of heaven, in comparison with the garden patches of grain I had witnessed for months cultivated by the hand of man. All our people seemed equally affected by the sight of these natural corn-fields; and Essnousee, to show his respect for property thus left to the mercy of every camel-driver, ordered the camels not to be driven through the standing barley. The camels heeded little the command, and managed to get large mouthfuls; our Soudan sheep fed to their full; a good deal was also destroyed. I observed, nevertheless, the camels preferred the green tender herbage, to the corn in the ear, and picked it out carefully between the rows of straggling barley. With the increase of herbage and water,—for water was not found in all the route from Bonjem,—the animals increased. Gazelles bounded before us, at times in small herds of six or seven; and hares were constantly started from under the camels' feet. We had no sportsmen with us, and no game was shot or taken. The Arabs ran frequently to the bushes whence the gazelles bounded, in order to find young ones. Birds now increased to full flights. Here were numbers of little birds with yellow body and brown back. This part of The Sahara had its particular bird, as the rest. The little black and white fellow higher up was now succeeded by the little yellow and brown fellow. Other birds were flying about, but not so numerous as this species. But the bird that now caught my attention was the gull. At first I was perplexed to know how this bird could be found so far up The Desert, but I recollected we had but six or seven days from Bonjem to Misratah, near the coast. The gull suggested to my drooping spirits sea-breezes to restore my shattered frame, and gave me new life. As we neared Misratah the country increased in comeliness (because after so much desert), and near Misratah the hills were actually green and flowery, so long black and hideously bare. But indeed, it was the best time of Spring. We passed on every side scattered Arab tents,—to us pavilions of pleasure,—with their flocks and herds: all denoting open-culture and the presence of rain.
Scarce a ten-thousandth part of this country is reduced to cultivation. Here and there only are some few corn-fields, where the seed, when sown, is left to get ripe as it may, the only manure being the burning of the stubble of the previous year. We must, indeed, say more or less of the coast of all North Africa, and express the same hope for the future in the words of one of the prophets: "And the desolate land shall be tilled, whereas it lay desolate in the sight of all that passed by. And they shall say, This land that was desolate is become like the garden of Eden; and the waste, and desolate, and ruined cities are become fenced, and are inhabited." (Ezek. xxxvi. 34, 35.) North Africa was once the garden as well as the granary of the world. A series of disastrous revolutions has successively reduced this once so fair and fertile region, to waste, barrenness, and barbarism; the Mahometan fate-doctrine meanwhile hugging and conserving its ruins and dilapidations. We may perhaps hope, the French are doing something for the Algerian coast. The Turks may yet do something in Tripoli. Tunis and Morocco have more cultivated lands than Tripoli or Algeria, and reforms are agitating both countries. Once the spirit of improvement gets fairly into this region, it may resume its ancient celebrity of being "like the garden of Eden." Near Misratah, I observed, for the first time in my tour, the hawthorn-tree: it was reddened over with nice ripe haws.
On the evening of the 6th, we passed the spot where Abd-El-Geleel was decapitated, called Bughalah ("mule"). This was a small piece of mountain, looking abruptly over a wady, or deep valley. On this mountain block the Sheikh concentrated all his military forces, collecting as well the families of his tribe. Here he skirmished with the Turks for many days, he winning and they winning a battle, as it happened; but they, at length hemming him round, and isolating him on the rock, where there was not a drop of water to be had, the Sheikh finally was obliged to surrender. His retiring to this hideous rock was only matched in folly by his confiding in the faith of a Turk. Truly, when men are to be destroyed, their evil genius inspires them with madness.
On the 8th, we took in water from the well of Daymoum. Around were the remains of a fortified camp, and stones were placed in a large circle. This camp was erected by Hasan Bashaw, Commander-in-Chief of the Regency, when he was at war with Abd-El-Geleel. It looks not unlike a Druidical circle.
On the 9th we took in a little water from the well of Namwah. Several sea-gulls were here flying about. To-day I have to mention a fact which shows to what extraordinary changes of temperature the Great Desert is subject, as well as Barbary generally. About nine in the morning a strong ghiblee got up, increasing till it became so violent that we encamped at once, not venturing to expose the slaves to this killing simoum. Covering up my face and mouth, I put my head into a pannier. I was almost suffocated it is true, still it was better than exposing myself to the searching flame of this furnace wind. What became of the slaves I cannot tell, I was too busy with myself. Here I lay gasping for an hour, when Said came and called to me, "Now Bahree (بحري)," or north. "How, bahree!" I answered astonished. "Bahree! bahree!" he continued, "the caravan is going." I got up, and felt sensibly and convincingly enough it was bahree. The wind had made a whirlwind sweep in the space of an hour, it was now blowing as hard from the north as it had done from the south. But strange yet natural enough, columns of hot air were blown back into our faces from the north for some time, until, towards the evening, the wind became as cold, bleak, and biting, as it had been hot and stifling. These sudden changes are terrific, and are often attended with most serious consequences in The Desert. Asking our people how long a simoum or ghiblee would blow in The Desert, they replied, "Never violently more than a couple of days." I do not recollect it once to have continued a whole day, but light south winds have prevailed for several days. As an instance of the calamitous effects of sudden changes of weather in North Africa, I may mention that, in the Spring of 1845, when Sidi Mohammed, "Bey of the Camp" in the Regency of Tunis, was returning from the Jereed, he lost, on one day, some Turks and other troops from the heat, and, on the very next day, several perished from the cold. Some hundred camels also died from the cold at the same time. A recent expedition in Algeria, during which some hundred French troops were frozen to death, must recur to the recollection of the reader, having happened from the same cause of a sudden change of temperature.
