Leave Siwah. — Rude Sepulchres. — A Camel’s last stage. — Sand Storm. — Find an Arab Cousin. — Corn hard to get at. — Adieu to the Desert. — The Desert. The Oasis. — Arrive at Cairo.
Good Friday.—March 25th.—It was eleven o’clock the next day before everything was ready. The camels were loaded and sent on, and then, with loud beating of the little saddle-drums, the horsemen forming a long line, their colours in the middle, followed by Hassan Aga and myself, we rode slowly out of Siwah. The officers cantered along the line as it advanced, first one and then another, in no regular order, and with no other apparent object than that of making a sort of fantasia, as the Arabs call everything which they think amusing or gay. A wedding festivity, a gaily-decked horse, or an embroidered jacket, are all equally fantasia. My servants and the slaves of the officers, Sheikh Yusuf and his friends, who in considerable numbers accompanied him, for some hours brought up the rear. The well-disposed part of the population had come out to see the show, and to bid me adieu; among them the Mufti and his brother, but none of my late prisoners appeared in the crowd, to the great indignation of Hassan Aga.
An hour out of the town the standard was furled, and then the line was broken, and every one went as his fancy led him, excepting myself, who soon found that I was considered either too suspicious or too precious a personage to be allowed to stir a step without Hassan Aga at my side. If I hung back, he did so too; if I rode to one side, he not only followed me, but with him the little tin-kettle drummers, and the nucleus of his army. As for dismounting to gather a fossil, or to chip a rock, it was the signal for a general halt; and I was therefore condemned to stick to my saddle and follow my leader.
In three hours and a half we reached a Hattyeh called Wushky Tamoushty, وشكي طموشتي, where we halted for some little time to allow the camels to come up. Ponds of bitter water, palm bushes and mimosas, dot this plain, which is infested by myriads of small, gray, singularly venomous musquitoes. Two and a half hours further on, we came to some hills called Gebel Melhiors, ملهيوص, of the same tertiary limestone as those around Siwah, and here the soldiers amused themselves by discharging their guns and pistols to enjoy the repeated echoes of one of the rocks. It was half-past nine, when, after passing Hattyeh el Kuttef, الكثف, we reached Omm Hoemem هوُِهَم, a line of low sand-hills covered with trees; these supplied materials for making huge bonfires, round which the soldiers lay themselves to sleep in parties of three and four. The next day we were fourteen hours on horseback, riding through a country presenting nothing remarkable; I give, therefore, a mere catalogue of names. After passing a hill, Ingah Omm Hoemem, we came to a table-land called Es-sutah, السُوطه, from which, on the right, rises a rock called Er-Rocheia, الرحيه. The view was bounded towards the east by low white hills, destitute of any appearance of vegetation, called, from their colour, El-abiadh. Here we halted for the night; the soldiers were in great discomfort, as the place affords no means of making fires, and the night was extremely chilly. Skirting El-abiadh we reached in three hours a darker-coloured range, called El Achmar, and from this it took us three hours to arrive at the palm-groves and wells of brackish water, which lie on this side of the small oasis of El Gara, as it is usually called, though also known as Omm-es-soghaigh, ام السغير.
This is a miniature Siwah, presenting the same abundance of water (which is here all bitter), and a proportionate number of date trees. The town, now almost in ruins, resembles Agharmy in its situation on a table-rock, and is approached by a very steep path, which passes under a gateway. Everything betokens the poverty and misery of the inhabitants, who only number twelve grown men. There is a tradition, that the population of the place can never exceed forty; and whenever, by immigration (which they do not therefore encourage) or by births, this limit is passed, some one is sure to die. The male population seemed very well-disposed, coming at once on our arrival to pay their court to Hassan Aga and Sheikh Yusuf, and showing readiness to make themselves as useful as they could. I never met with twelve such ugly specimens of humanity collected in one place; and their virtues do not atone for their bad looks, as they are said to be drunkards and lazy, taking no other care of their date trees, about 21,000 in number, than drawing lagby and gathering the fruit from them. They make no attempt at manuring them, and do not even trim them, so that their produce is very inferior to the dates of Siwah. The interior of the town is even more ruinous than the promise of its external appearance; a circular market-place, surrounded by fallen cabins, occupies its centre, and it has near the entrance a well of drinkable water, 70 feet deep.
The brother of one of the two sheikhs who govern this important territory acted as my guide to see the curiosities of the place, and thinking, perhaps, that he had not sufficiently earned his bachshish, he insisted, as we came out, on showing the town gate. He closed the massive door, formed of palm trunks, and, after drawing some ponderous bolts, linked on an iron cable chain of the largest dimensions, to show me how secure it was. I could not help smiling at the precautions taken to close a place which contained nothing of the smallest value, which drew from him a grave shake of the head and the triumphant rejoinder, that a strong door and a big chain are good things. In the rock on which the town is built are four rudely-excavated sepulchres, and I saw many more in different parts of the small oasis, but the rudeness of their fashion leads me to conjecture that even in its most flourishing times this dependency on the Ammonium never reached any high degree of prosperity. Either this, or the lake of El Arachish, to the north-west of Siwah, must have been the place where Alexander left his escort in entering on the sacred territory of Ammon. We spent a day and a half here, notwithstanding the badness of the water, from which some of the horses had suffered in coming to Siwah, as the Aga had forgotten or neglected to have bread baked for the soldiers before starting. Leaving El Gara, we took almost a due northerly direction, and made long days, as there is no water to be found for four days. The horses of my escort had the bad habit of drinking daily, which a thorough desert horse does not require, and, when possible, the draught is given to them about midday. Immediately after drinking, their riders mount them and give them a short gallop, which I can only suppose is for the purpose of winding them.
The first landmark we reached was Gar-el-lebna, the milk hill, thirteen hours off, the next six hours further on, Gar-ed-dih, the cock’s hill. Many of the horses fell, as if struck with apoplexy, on the second day, and on this day and the two following ones we lost eleven. I ascribe the casualty to the water of the Gara, which, stopping digestion, blew them up like a well-inflated foot-ball, and after a few hours in this state, if injections, fomentations, and bleeding had no effect, they dropped as if shot, with all the appearance of a coup de sang. As ten of his horses had died with the same symptoms on arriving in Siwah, I suggested to Hassan Aga that as short a route might be found leaving the Gara to the east, which would, perhaps, avoid any risk there might be from a recurrence of illness among the horses. He made no account of this; and now that one would have thought his eyes must be opened to the results of his stupidity, he and Sheikh Yusuf agreed in ascribing the misfortune to the Evil Eye, while Yusuf looked grave, and said no soldiers had ever approached Siwah without being struck by the Eye in leaving it. Of course there was no veterinary with the detachment; but what was stranger, not one of the party seemed to have an idea of what to do; they had no physic, nor even a fleam. The horses which recovered, as well as, I acknowledge, some of those which died, were doctored by my servant and myself, their owners seeming to have no resource but to sit down and thank God that the Eye was on the horses, not on the men.
We had made thirteen hours this day, but on the next, the Commandant being anxious to arrive at water, as the skins were rapidly decreasing under the charge of the Arabs, the camels made seventeen hours’ journey, and the next day, in three hours, we reached a well called Caldeh; it, however, contained so small a supply that we literally drank it dry. From Omm Es-soghair to this well the distance is forty-six hours. Though every day their loads, principally water and corn, were growing lighter, a great many of the camels were so exhausted that they dropped down, unable to proceed. When no application of the stick would induce the poor beasts to rise, their loads were distributed to others, and they sometimes were able to continue the journey. But if they had been driven too far before falling this was useless, and after a few steps they would again lie down, when the camel drivers would at once despatch them, and then stripping off the hide, they cut all the flesh from the bones to make a feast in the evening, so that within half an hour a pool of blood and a skeleton were all that remained of their long-suffering companion. I was unlucky enough to come up just as one large white camel fell. It lay motionless, while its brutal master, with heavy blows, endeavoured to force it to rise. In vain. The escort stopped to look on, and I was so fascinated with the expression of the dying beast’s head, that, though anxious to turn away, I was an involuntary witness of its death. As all efforts to make it rise were unavailing, a man threw it over on its side and slowly cut through its long neck, from which an immense stream of blood flowed, while he pronounced the words, “In the name of God the Merciful, the Compassionate.” The camel made no resistance; but, turning its head towards its butcher, uttered two or three loud, heart-rending moans, which sounded in my ears for the remainder of the day. I have seldom witnessed a more pitiable sight.
Five hours beyond Caldeh is another and very remarkable well, being a subterranean chamber hollowed in the rock, 72 feet square, in the floor of which are nine wells, one in each corner, in the centre of each side, and in the middle. Two are now sanded up, but the others afford an abundance of water. The chamber is eight feet high, and presents every appearance of great antiquity; but there are no ruins apparent in the vicinity, nor any town named in the ancient geographies which could have occupied this place; perhaps, in its origin, it served, as at the present day, as a reservoir for the caravans from the south and west. We encamped here for the night, as a strong wind, which had been blowing all day, had increased to such violence that it was impossible to proceed. The air was filled with sand of a dark orange colour, while the sun, an hour and a half before setting, was of a pale blue, and could be gazed at with the naked eye. Had we been in July instead of April, this wind, which blew from the south-west, might have been attended with serious consequences. In the night a great deal of rain fell, which moderated its violence, and the next morning it had entirely ceased. We were now leaving the region of sand, the ground being dotted with a spare vegetation, which, in three hours from Bu Battah, gave the country a general green tone, till on approaching the sea this was succeeded by a strong, healthy growth of herbs and grass, affording excellent pasturage. In eight hours we reached the edge of the great platform we had been traversing, and by a steep descent, of not more than 120 feet in perpendicular, we reached the level of the sea, encamping, at the end of the ninth hour, in a meadow of rank grass, separated from the sea by a ridge of sand. A point to the west forms here a small bay, and Baretoun, the ancient Panetorium, lies a little beyond this. The name given to the place we encamped in is Berbetat-el-mudar. We here passed the following day to rest the horses, and to endeavour to obtain some supplies from the Arabs who are usually stationed here, but who now, at the instigation, I believe, of one of the sheikhs who were with us, had run away. They were probably within a few miles of our encampment, but so well concealed that every effort to discover their retreat was useless; and thus the visions of sheep and milk in which we had all been indulging were rendered illusory. From this place our course turned to the east, riding over a plain raised above the sea, of which we frequently caught a sight. Four hours eastwards is a place called, by the Arabs, Fuhah; and half an hour further on we came to the ruins of a small town whose walls are still to be traced. Nothing that remains indicates the name by which it may have been designated by Ptolemy, whose nomenclature is here, though so near Alexandria, singularly defective. In six hours more we encamped in a valley, surrounded by low hills, called Bu Jerabeh, containing several wells of bitter water, one only of which was drinkable. Here we found Sonagrah Arabs, whom their sheikh, Haj Chalil, prevented from running away, so that we were well supplied with fresh butter, sour and sweet milk, and sheep, paying, of course, for all that we took.
I ought already to have presented the Haj Chalil to my reader, as he was the best of the Aoulad Ali whom I saw, and I exchanged with him on the road many a friendly joke. A day or two after my escort’s arrival in Siwah, a tall, stout man, of some fifty years, entered my room, with a certain mysteriously solemn and consequential air. When he had taken his place, he said to me, in a low voice, that he had something very secret to communicate to me. Of course, after learning that he was Sheikh Haj Chalil, I ordered that no one should be admitted during the conference. He told me, as if it had been a matter of life and death, that he was my cousin, there being only seven grandfathers between him and me. The relationship, thus precisely defined, tickled my fancy, and though I supposed he must refer to descent from Spanish Moors, I begged he would enlighten me on his pedigree. It seems that his ancestor, whom he called Songor (hence the name of the Sonagra Arabs), was a Frank boy, who had been washed on shore from a wreck near Sallum. He was seized by the Bedawin, made the property of the Sheikh of Aoulad Hharsuf, and in the end married his daughter, and became the patriarch of a new tribe. The Arabs have no idea that one Christian is not cousin to another; hence the claim of relationship, which I acknowledged ever afterwards, calling him son of my uncle. It was not, however, only to have the pleasure of claiming relationship with me that he came so mysteriously; it was to beg that, in consideration of this, I would speak well of him to the Viceroy, so as to obtain his nomination as Great Sheikh of the Aoulad Ali, under which name are comprised the three tribes, Hharsuf, Sonagra, and Sinnĭna. I could not promise to interfere in a matter in which I could have no right to interest myself, and no power to be useful if I had done so; but when the occasion afterwards presented itself, in the course of conversation, I was not forgetful of my uncle’s son, though my good offices were unavailing, as his Highness had already decided on naming a sheikh from the Aoulad Hharsuf. And a lucky escape it was, too, for Haj Chalil, as the possessor of the coveted honour, within three months followed his predecessor on the road to Fazoughla—a sort of penal hell upon earth—where, if he have good luck, he will arrive, instead of being murdered, as the other is said to have been, at Girgeh; for, I suppose, one must call murder the condemning a man to one punishment, and secretly inflicting upon him a heavier one—the loss of his head.