Mysteries of the Libyan Desert

by W. J. Harding King

Are not educated Europeans, even now, continually setting out to look for the fabulous riches hidden, a hundred or two years ago, by some old pirate or buccaneer, usually on an island—say, in the West Indies? Of the identity of the island there is generally no doubt at all—but the treasure does not seem to be often found!

We stayed for a day or two more at Bu Gerara, during which time the men found a small earthenware pot, some broken fragments of glass and pottery and one or two more copper coins—and that was all! Then as we had drawn a blank, so far as treasure was concerned at Bu Gerara, the men all wanted to be taken off to the hill where the riches of the three Sultans was buried with the least possible delay. Qwaytin was the most insistent of them all, evidently assuming that I had given up my plan of going to Farafra and had committed myself to a whole season’s treasure hunting instead.

The hill where the mystical Sultans had buried their riches was not far off, though it did not lie in the direction in which I had intended to go; but it was in a part of the desert that had never been mapped, so I thought it best to humour him once more and let him take me there.

We got off early the next morning. Qwaytin led us straight towards the hill in the wady, near the foot of which we found the promised road.

As we increased our distance from the cliff lying to the north of Bu Gerara, the surroundings of the place could be better seen. The view to the north was, of course, cut off by the cliff, which as soon as we had got some distance from it, could be seen stretching away for many miles to the east, forming the continuation of the escarpment that bounded the Kharga depression on its northern side.

To the south-east was a considerable expanse of elevated ground, evidently the plateau in which lay some small depressions I had found to the north of ’Ain Amur. So far as I could see, there was no cliff on the northern side of this tableland, the ground only sloping up to it from the lower level. A well—’Ain Embares—that I had tried to reach by way of the chain of small depressions, with little doubt was situated between the foot of the scarp of the main plateau and this high ground that lay to its south.

On the west, the scarp of the plateau was visible for a long way. Qwaytin’s old road led us in a southerly direction, roughly parallel to the cliff of a detached plateau. It was chiefly noticeable for the large number of small patches of bushes, known as roadhs, that were scattered along it. These seemed to be a favourite feeding ground for gazelle, to judge from the number of tracks we saw, most of which, however, were fairly old ones. In one place, instead of the usual small bushes, a couple of small acacia (sunt) trees were seen.

We sighted the hill we were in search of in the afternoon, and, an hour before camping, reached the top of a steep descent on to lower ground, about two hundred and fifty feet below us, that Qwaytin said was called in his book the “Negeb er Rumi” (descent of the European). The road down to the valley below was obviously to some extent an artificial one, and, though extremely steep, was negotiated without difficulty. We pitched our camp below.

This lower ground was so covered with sand and pebbles that I was unable to see whether we were still on the limestone. But the ground level rose again considerably as we neared the hill, and for the last part of the way the limestone was showing again on the surface. Possibly a fault exists in the neighbourhood.

We reached the hill itself at noon, and camped on its southern side. It was a small limestone-capped hill, chiefly remarkable for the extent to which the limestone was honeycombed by the wind-driven sand. At the foot of the hill, near the camp, was a boulder that had evidently rolled down from the top. It was almost four feet in diameter, and literally riddled with holes like a sponge.