El Fedja is a noted anchorage on this coast. We soon opened a market with some Bedouins, who brought us excellent water. The mountains continue all along the coast at about four or five miles distant from the shore, which rises gradually to their base. The beach is sandy, with layers of chalk, formed by calcined conchylias; great numbers of shells are everywhere found, and it appeared to me that each species was generally confined to a particular spot on the coast. There were however various sorts in the bay of El Fedja. I particularly noticed the Sorombak, and the small white shell called at Cairo Woda (وَدَع), with which the Gipsey women tell fortunes, by tossing them up, as they pronounce the person’s name, and by observing the position in which they fall on the ground.
July 12th. We had a good wind, but want of water obliged us to run into the bay of Arakyá long before noon. It was our practice not to sail in the morning till the sun was sufficiently high to render shallow water and reefs visible at a good distance, for in most of these intricate channels the pilot’s eye is his only guide. Late this evening, the Arabs brought a large supply of water upon camels and asses, which they had drawn from a reservoir of rain-water three or four hours distant in the mountains. The bay is composed entirely of calcined shells, and affords a safe anchorage for large ships. I fought here a hard battle with some of the Souakin merchants, who continued to ill treat, by every means in their power, the poor Negroes, and would listen to none of my representations in their behalf. They had conceived a contemptible opinion of myself, notwithstanding the respect they saw paid to me at Souakin, because I had not got a new dress, and because they thought that I had made myself too familiar with the Black wretches, as they termed them. I was seconded in my endeavours for the benefit of the Tekaýrne by a Greek Christian, who had come with us from Souakin, and who afforded me much entertainment during the voyage. His name was Stafa, a native of Negropont, and he was a sailor by profession. He had visited England some years ago on board a brig of war sent there by Mohammed Aly Pasha, to solicit permission to sail to the Red Sea by the way of the Cape of Good Hope. Having remained in England a whole year, he had learned a little English; after his return the Pasha had given him the command of a Dow in the Red Sea. He had been to Souakin to recover a debt of some hundred dollars, from a Souakiny, and was now returning to Djidda. Like all the other persons on board, he took me for a Syrian, and conversed with me in broken Arabic. I was exceedingly amused with the account of his travels in Europe, and the palpable falsehoods and absurdities which he uttered respecting what he had seen in England, and the manners of the inhabitants. Comparatively speaking, I had no reason to complain of my treatment on board the vessel; the Reis, an inhabitant of Djidda, was the more willing to accommodate me, as I had given him a dollar as a present, notwithstanding my being a free passenger: the merchants paid two dollars each.
July 13th.—We had a tolerable wind, and by the help of the oars, which we often had recourse to, we reached at two o’clock A. M. the bay of Tahde. As there was a settlement of Amarer close to the beach, and as these Bedouins are not in much reputation for good faith, we remained at a considerable distance from the shore. Some of the sailors swam to the beach to settle with the chief the amount of duty to be paid; and the Greek captain and I were obliged to pay each half a measure of Dhourra above the stipulated sum, under the pretence that we were in the service of the Pasha, and not Arabs, like the others. We then landed upon a small raft towed alongside the vessel from the shore, and were well treated, or at least were unmolested by the Bedouins who assembled around us. They are of the tribe of Coubad, a principal branch of the Amarer, and they live here in tents made of black goats hair, like those of the Arabian Arabs. There were about thirty or forty tents. That of the Shikh was pitched close by the side of the tomb of his grandfather, a man who had been much respected among his tribe, and to whom a sepulchre of stone had been erected. In the evening immense herds of camels, sheep, and goats, came running down to the beach to drink at about half a dozen springs among some trees close to the sea. The water of all these springs, except one, is brackish. The sheep have short bad wool; but the hair of the goats is long. In the mountains are reservoirs of rain water; but the Bedouins seem to be accustomed to the water of the springs, and do not take the trouble of bringing sweet water from such a distance. Not far from the wells the beach becomes very rocky, is covered with loose stones of great size, and rises rapidly towards the mountains; as far as I could observe, these rocks are entirely of gray granite. The whole of the morning was spent in bargaining for milk; after the camels had drank water, their owners milked them; and the milk was placed before the camels in large vessels made of reeds, closely interwoven, exactly like those made by the Barábera above Assouan. We had all brought with us a quantity of Dhourra and tobacco, which are the best medium of traffic on this coast. We put down near each vessel as much of the one or the other, as we thought fit to give; but until we made up the exact quantity which the Bedouin was determined to have, he continued to order us very coolly to “go away” (Kak); they would not admit of any sort of bargaining, but repeated the word Kak.i[80] Several of the Souakin merchants and sailors found here some female friends of old acquaintance, and although the captain had given orders that every body should return on board after sun-set, they remained on shore, and we heard their boisterous songs the whole night. The women here went unveiled, and behaved with great freedom. The dress of the men is the usual Dammour shirt; they carry lances, and targets, and a few have swords; their principal enjoyment seems to be, as in other parts of Nubia, to get drunk with Bouza. The great numbers of their cattle expose them sometimes to the inroads of foreign enemies. The people of Yembo occasionally come here in small ships, well armed with firelocks, and plunder the whole neighbourhood of the cattle, alleging as an excuse, that the Amarer formerly killed several of their countrymen, who had been shipwrecked on this coast.
July 14th.—As we stood out of the bay a ship from Djidda was entering: vessels bound from that port to Souakin usually cross over here, and then coast along southward to their destination. Unless the wind is particularly favourable, they rarely cross the sea direct to Souakin. Had the wind been favourable for us, we should have stood across from this bay; but it was southerly, and we therefore steered for a small island, a few miles to the north of Tebade, where we entered a fine bay, with the intention of waiting there for a northerly wind. This island bears the name of Djebel Mekouar; Djebel, because it consists almost entirely of a single low rocky mountain; and Mekouar, from كورّ, يكورّ, which in the dialect of the Yemen sailors means to cross over, or to start in order to cross over.i[81] The passage across the sea is usually begun at this island, as well from its being in a more northern latitude than Djidda, and thus affording the full advantage of the northerly winds, as from the passage across being quite free from hidden shoals or reefs, which otherwise might render the navigation dangerous during the night. It requires generally two days and one night to perform the passage.
We dispersed among the low trees and shrubs with which the shores of the island are thickly lined, and some of which even grow in the water; in foliage the trees resemble the aloe; the wood is very brittle. The island, as far as I could judge, is about eight miles in circumference; on its north-east side, and close to it, is a much smaller one. I wished to visit the interior of the island; but we were kept ready to sail at a moment’s notice, in case the wind should come round to the northward. The island is of secondary formation, with chalk, and entirely barren, except the beach, where the trees grow. On its western side is another anchorage, but less spacious than that on the south side, in which our vessel moored. It is inhabited by about twenty Bisharye families, who are complete ichthyophagi: they have very few sheep and goats, the mountain scarcely affording any pasture. On the north side of the island are some wells, but the water is so brackish that even the inhabitants cannot drink it. During the winter they find rain water among the rocks; in the summer they cross over weekly upon the rafts used by them in fishing, to the continent, which is only one or two miles distant, and where they obtain a supply from some wells to the north of Tebade. They appear to live almost entirely upon fish, shell-fish, and eggs; they obtain a little milk from their sheep, which are not more than thirty in number. They fish with nets and hooks, which they buy from the Souakin ships. Of the thick skin of some large fish, unknown to me, they make targets of a round and square form, about a foot and a half in diameter, and sufficiently strong to resist a spear-thrust. In the mountains they collect at this season vast numbers of the eggs of a species of sea-gull, which is very common here. About a dozen men and women came to the bay, with some sheep and a little milk and eggs for sale. The boiled yolks of the eggs were piled up on their targets, and carried on their heads, and I was told that they preserve them in this state for many weeks. Both the men and women had a very emaciated appearance; none of them spoke Arabic. I wished to barter for some milk, but the women had conceived such horror on seeing me, that they absolutely refused to have any dealings whatever with me. They all seemed extremely desirous of Dhourra, which they have no other means of obtaining than from ships touching here; but their sheep were still more valuable to them, for they would not part with any of them, though we offered a good price.
From the adjacent point of the main land begin the territories of the Bedouins Bisharein, which extend northwards eight days journey to the limits of the dominions of the Bedouins Ababde. The inhabitants of Mekouar are exposed to the attacks of the Amarer from Tebade, when the two tribes are at war; they then usually retire to the main land; their principal object in coming here seems to be to barter with the ships which touch at the island in their passage to or from Djidda and Souakin. I was told that they consider the island as their own property, and that no other Bisharein are permitted to settle on it. It has been supposed to be the Emerald Island; but the Arabian sailors give that name to some islands further northward, between this and Kosseir.
I was informed here, that one day’s sail farther north, or from twenty to twenty-five miles, which is the usual rate of these vessels, there is a large bay extending considerably inland, called Mersa Dóngola (مرسي دنقله), or the harbour of Dóngola, with an island at its entrance: it is well known for its rich pearl fishery. The captain of our boat, Seid Mustafa ed-Djedáwy (سيد مصطفي الجداوي), had once been there, and brought home a considerable quantity of pearls of middling quality, which the Sherif Ghalib afterwards took from him at Djidda. He told me that the bottom of the sea in the bay was full of pearl-oysters, and that they may easily be fished, as the water is not very deep. It is not however frequented at present for pearl-fishing, partly because the treacherous character of the Bisharein, who inhabit the harbour, is much dreaded; but chiefly because the ship-owners are fearful of its being said that they have found treasures of pearls, which would immediately attract the attention of the government of Djidda. I was repeatedly assured that the coast northwards from Djebel Mekouar towards Kosseir is entirely unknown to the Souakin and Kosseir pilots; and that of the Djidda pilots very few only, of the tribe of the Zebeyde Arabs, have even a slight knowledge of it. No commerce, nor direct intercourse is carried on between Kosseir and Souakin; and the navigation of this part of the coast, as well as northward from Kosseir to Suez, is scarcely ever performed by natives of the Red Sea. The Zebeyde Arabs alone sometimes touch at the harbour of Olba, which is four days sail beyond the harbour of Dóngola, and five from Djebel Mekouar. Pearls are said to be found all along this coast, as far south as Massouah, but no where in such plenty as at Mersa Dóngola.
We had to repair a leak in the vessel, occasioned by her striking on a coral reef the preceding day; proper arrangements were also made in the distribution of the cargo and passengers, in order to leave room sufficient for the sailors to work the vessel in the passage across the sea, which the Arabians never undertake without evident signs of fear, and without recommending themselves to the protection of the Prophet and all the saints.
July 15th.—A favourable wind sprung up this morning, and we steered for the open sea. A compass was brought from amongst the ship’s lumber, but merely for form’s sake, for the captain and pilot quarrelled which was the due north. Towards evening the wind increased, when the sailors exchanged the large sail for a smaller. When night set in, the brilliant light on the surface of the water, wherever it was agitated, greatly astonished the Negroes, who endeavoured in vain to obtain an explanation of the phænomenon from the sailors. We passed a cold uncomfortable night, no one having room enough to sleep in. The bold travellers of the desert betrayed great fear in the open sea, to the great amusement of the people from Souakin.
July 16th. Early in the morning we descried the coast of Arabia; the ignorance of the pilot now became evident, for instead of finding ourselves off Djidda, as we might have been, had he steered by compass, we were at least fifty miles to the south of it. We entered a small bay in full sail, and had nearly foundered by a whirlwind that sprung up at the moment. We found the beach to be entirely barren, and without wells or springs to a considerable distance; no Bedouins were any where visible. We were now in great distress for water; the last supply we had taken in at Arakyá was nearly consumed; and the water-skins of the Tekaýrne were all empty; the wind was foul, and we had no reasonable hope of reaching Djidda in less than two days. In the evening the greater part of the Tekaýrne left the ship, to proceed by land to Djidda; the sailors represented this place to them as being much nearer than it really was, and pointed to a mountain, about twelve miles distant from our anchorage, where they said a well would be found; but where, as I afterwards understood, no such well existed, their design being merely to get rid of the pilgrims in the fear that necessity might at last force them to fall upon the crew’s stock of water.i[82] The Souakin ships seldom arrive at Djidda with pilgrims, without their having suffered from a want of water; the number of pilgrims on board being always so great, that it is impossible for them to carry a supply for more than three days, without a sacrifice of other conveniences, which they are never willing to make; and Djebel Mekouar, from whence the ship takes her departure for the opposite coast, furnishes no water at all. I afterwards saw Negroes at Djidda who had not drank water during this passage for four whole days. We were obliged to remain at anchor here till the following day. There are fewer shells on this coast than on the other.