The Highlands of Ethiopia

by Sir William Cornwallis Harris

The impatient Osmán, accompanied by the Ameer and all the holy men of the town, shortly relieved them from suspense. His scarlet abba floated over his shoulders, and the gold of his headdress sparkled in the beams of the pale orb, as he placed himself at the head of the party to receive the “Salaam Aleikum” of his officers.

The young chief had lately arrived from the opposite coast to take the military command, but his proud and reserved bearing had gained neither the respect nor the good-will of his inferiors. Stories were whispered about that an evil star presided over his destiny, and that the settled gloom on his swarthy brow was caused by the continued tissue of ill luck which had hitherto blasted his every aspiration after fame.

His quick ear had caught the murmurings of the discontented. “Dread not events unknown,” he exclaimed as he cast a withering glance over the group. “Be not down-hearted, for the fountain of the water of life is involved in obscurity. Defile not the spring of hope with the dust of despondency, for, praise be to God! the creator of the universe, if ye walk even into the dens of the lion or the pard, they will not tear you save on the destined day.”

Then raising his voice Osmán shouted aloud, “Seero,” move on in the name of the Prophet. “May Allah be with you! May Allah watch over you!” solemnly chanted the chief moola as he waved the holy book in the air. The troops poured through the gateway, and sweeping slowly, like a thick cloud, along the face of the plain, were soon lost in the darkness of the desert.

There be always some ardent spirits to raise the drooping mass; and in the commencement of a march, as in the beginning of life, even the most down-hearted feel a spark of hope as to the happy result. But after the first burst of enthusiasm was expended, and the troops were fairly launched into the lone waste, the loose discourse and the merry laugh gradually failed, and in sad and gloomy silence they trod on for hours, sinking in the deep hot sand, or stumbling among the black blocks of lava which were thickly strewed over this tract of fire.

The ominous bird of night flitted from left to right and hooted mournfully from a bare tree, as the gallant train swept past the last watering-place in the Wady of Takoosha; and many a “wullah” was poured forth, as the herds of antelope bounded along the same evil and portentous track, as if pursued by the exulting demon of destruction. “Man proposes but God disposes,” muttered those whose secret misgivings were heightened by these prognostics: the heart of the bravest quailed under the accumulation of unlucky omens, and all felt for the moment, that they were doomed men.

Little order prevailed along the motley line. Mounted on his mule and wrapped in his own dark thoughts, Osmán led the van, and a group of light-limbed Wóema who clustered round the chief, pointed out the direction of march. No vestige was there of a pathway, and the dark ravine and the lone hill were passed in weary succession, as each camel, and mule, and man on foot, struggled along during many hours of the hot night. A few pools of standing water left by a providential shower of rain were at length selected as the first halting-place, and, worn out and dispirited, the sons of Yemen, piling their heavy fire-arms, sank to sleep upon the bare ground.

The tract of country extending from the coast to Ramudéle is a bare and joyless desert, where water is to be met with only at long intervals, where little food is to be procured either for man or beast, and where the heat is like the breath of the glass furnace. But Arabs are accustomed to the arid regions of their own stony land, and as they feed like famished wolves when food is to be obtained, they can, like those gaunt animals, endure the extremity of fasting. The morning sun roused the party to renovated strength; and as the news spread through the camp that the rich town of Aussa was the object of the enterprise, and that a large force of the Wóema had assembled to cooperate in the attack, no bounds were set upon the extravagant bravadoes uttered. Amru, as he strutted along with his turban placed jauntily upon his head, declared that even the gardens of Mocha and their rose-scented houris might be improved by a man of taste, if provided with the requisite means; whilst the grumbling old Kásim and his compeers, cheering up for the moment, commenced a calculation as to the probable gain to be derived from sundry captives, with which on their return they had resolved to fill the market.

But although a degree of hilarity had been thus restored throughout the host, the black cloud still hung over the brow of its leader. No friendly footing was established with his followers; no word of encouragement proceeded from his lips. Orders and arrangements were given in the cold, calm tone of desperation, and a feeling of coming evil shook each sturdy frame, as he strode in moody silence to his accustomed station in the line of march.

For seven weary days did they manfully toil through the blank dreary desert, where Nature had spread wide her plains of barrenness, and where the image of utter desolation was but seldom disturbed by the appearance either of man or of vegetation. The heat of the day caused the lips to peel. The poisonous wind dried the marrow in the bone; and at rare intervals indeed, some tiny encampment of the wandering Buddoo alone cheered the site of the stagnant pool. A few camels dotted the unbroken expanse of the forbidding plain, and here and there a withered acacia threw her thorny limbs wildly into the hot atmosphere.