"Sudden the impetuous hurricanes descend, Wheel through the air, in circling eddies play, Tear up the sands, and sweep whole plains away."
We got safely over Wady Rumel, whose bed is covered with reeds, having besides a good deal of stagnant water. My nagah forded the river as well as any of the camels, if not better. We now entered the sands of the sea-shore, and after two hours sat down to eat a few dates. We resumed our march through the sands which line the margin of the sea, the wind meanwhile blowing a perfect gale.
Now I witnessed what I had not seen in my nine months' Saharan travel, a veritable sandstorm. The wind so filled the air with sand, that we could hardly see, or get on groping our way, and we were obliged to hold on our camels, for fear of being blown off. Our poor slaves shrunk back aghast from the tempest, whilst the sea now and then broke open upon them through the sand groups, showing, to their amazement, its most tempestuous aspect.
Assuredly this, their first sight of the sea, will be associated in memory hereafter with the greatest and most cruel sufferings of our poor slaves, for to-day they suffered unusually from the wind and cold—the tempest of sand blinding them, and the miserable creatures falling continually on the wayside. I secured my eyes and face from the sand by tying round them a dark silk handkerchief, through which I saw my way without getting eyes, ears, and mouth full of sand. All our animals, as well as our people, had a thick coating of sand round their eyes, the cold and wind making their eyes run, and the water collecting the sand. Unable to proceed farther, we were obliged to encamp about 2 p.m., close by the sea-shore, under the shadow of a great cliff, the spray of the waves washing our feet and resting-place, and the noise of their chafing and roaring stunning our ears, whilst the sand-storm worked its way of desolation over our heads. The slaves surprised by this new sight of the sea, lashed into its wildest form, stared with wonder and horror at the tempest-tossed waters; some grinned and chattered with their teeth; others looked savage and moody, as if asking, "Whether the devils of the white men inhabited these waters?" whilst others, cowered down and sinking, hid their faces under their tattered clothes. I love to look upon the sea in its wildest shape, possessed by the tempest, and am disposed to be very poetical about it, but, mind you, rather from the land, than pitching over its briny foamy billows. We had some rain, and the cold was intense during the night. In very deed, it seemed as if heaven and earth were conspiring against the wretched, slaves the nearer they approached the end of their sufferings! Still there was an end of this, as of all things, and God sent us fair weather the next day. I was grievously afflicted about Said this night. He had suddenly disappeared during the sandstorm, and what had become of him I could not tell. I kept asking myself, "Whether he was doomed to perish at the gates of Tripoli, on his return, after his painfully wearying journey?" I sent out people on all sides. No tidings were brought of him. All was a blank...... We called, and called...... No answer.
18th.—Started early, but without Said. I began to be overwhelmed with sadness at his unaccountable disappearance. My impression was, when more calm, that he had overslept himself during the day, whilst we rested an hour to eat a few dates on the sand, and the slaves walking with him, or his companions, allowed him to sleep on without waking him. I missed him immediately, but was told he was a short way behind and would soon be up to us. As he was in the habit of loitering behind in this way, I saw no reason for not believing what the slaves said. However, I lectured the slaves and all the people, knowing he could not have been left behind without some trick, or connivance on their part, threatening to bring them up before the Pasha. This startled them, and they were all uneasy. Before, they seemed to care no more about it than if a dog had been left behind. But at noon, Said was brought up by an Arab who had found him on the roadside, lost and wandering about. He pretended he had been sick and stayed behind voluntarily, afraid to accuse the slaves to me of their unkindness in leaving him sleeping on the sands. Said knew very well we had fed them and clothed them often en route, and the sick had often been placed on my camel, whilst I walked wearily over Desert. I really felt deeply wounded at this ingratitude of the slaves, but I believe it was a trick planned by Essnousee, to give us annoyance. Poor Said had slept all night in open Desert, amidst sand and wind, and cold and rain, with nothing to eat. His lips were blanched and his eyes streamed with water. I got him placed on a camel.
The wind continues to blow high, and the storm still lingers late, scattering about sand. Several of the female slaves are placed on the camels from utter exhaustion. Others are cruelly driven on. Just as we arrive at Tajourah, a negress of tender age falls down from exhaustion, bleeding copiously from the mouth. The Arabs on foot cannot get her along. Essnousee, seeing this, called out, "Beat her, beat her." But the people not obeying his brutal orders, he immediately jumped off the camel, taking with him a thick stick to beat her. As soon as he did this, not being able to restrain myself, I instantly also jumped off my camel, and ran after him, taking with me a stick, a match for his. When I got up to him, surrounded with a group of people, some of whom were from the neighbouring village, all striving to save the girl from his stick, I called out, "Now, stop, stop your stick, we are now in Tripoli; no more whipping on the road," holding up my stick and assuming a threatening attitude, determined to resist the slave-driver at all risks. Seeing this, he cowered back at once, and screamed out, "Oh, it's a she-devil!" The people now took courage against the monster, and said, "No, no, she's exhausted with fatigue (with the way)." Essnousee then had her carried on the back of a camel to the village, and afterwards she continued riding to Tripoli. I was just in the humour for giving this miscreant slave-driver a thrashing, and taking on him satisfaction (but a millionth part indeed), for the torments he had, during forty days inflicted upon these wretched slaves, and should have done so had he attempted to beat the poor exhausted bleeding negress. I felt myself secure enough at the entrance of the gardens of Tripoli, and could well stand the risk of being brought up before the Pasha for flagellating an honourable man-dealer.
We sat down under some olives a minute, ate a few dates, drank a little water, and then entered the gardens of Tajourah, which offered nothing new, except that they were more richly cultivated than most of those we had seen on our way. Threading our way amidst the mud garden walls, I was gratefully soothed with the sight of increasing culture, and population. A sweet trait of the tender passion must be here recorded as taking place amidst this havoc of human cruelty, perpetrated on our sable brothers and sisters. At the side of my camel were two young things, a lad and a girl, who every now and then, when the Moors turned their heads, watching their opportunity, kept locking one another's fingers together. The lad now started off as if shot from a bow, and instantly brought some beans from a neighbouring garden, and these he presented gracefully to his lady-love. With such a little innocent incident, and there were many of the kind, I bid an eternal farewell to this slave caravan, by stating succinctly the results of my observations on the traffic in slaves, as carried on in The Great Desert of Sahara.
1st.—The slave-traffic is on the increase in The Great Desert; (though temporarily decreasing on the route of Bornou).
2nd.—Many slaves are flogged to death en route from Ghat to Tripoli, and others are over-driven or starved to death.
3rd.—The female slaves are subjected to the most obscene insults and torments by the Arab and Moorish slave-drivers; whilst the youngest females (children of four or five years of age) are violated by their brutal masters, the Tibboos, in coming from Bornou to Ghat, or Fezzan.