We were up in an instant, and my interpreter, Mahomet, in a state of
intense confusion, explained that the river was coming down, and that
the supposed distant thunder was the roar of approaching water.
Many of the people were asleep on the clean sand on the river's bed;
these were quickly awakened by the Arabs, who rushed down the steep bank
to save the skulls of two hippopotami that were exposed to dry. Hardly
had they descended when the sound of the river in the darkness beneath
told us that the water had arrived, and the men, dripping with wet, had
just sufficient time to drag their heavy burdens up the bank.
All was darkness and confusion, everybody talking and no one listening;
but the great event had occurred; the river had arrived "like a thief in
the night". On the morning of the 24th of June, I stood on the banks of
the noble Atbara River at the break of day. The wonder of the desert!
Yesterday there was a barren sheet of glaring sand, with a fringe of
withered bushes and trees upon its borders, that cut the yellow expanse
of desert. For days we had journeyed along the exhausted bed; all
Nature, even in Nature's poverty, was most poor: no bush could boast a
leaf, no tree could throw a shade, crisp gums crackled upon the stems of
the mimosas, the sap dried upon the burst bark, sprung with the
withering heat of the simoom. In one night there was a mysterious
change. Wonders of the mighty Nile! An army of water was hastening to
the wasted river. There was no drop of rain, no thunder-cloud on the
horizon to give hope. All had been dry and sultry, dust and desolation
yesterday; to-day a magnificent stream, some five hundred yards in width
and from fifteen to twenty feet in depth, flowed through the dreary
desert! Bamboos and reeds, with trash of all kinds, were hurried along
the muddy waters. Where were all the crowded inhabitants of the pool?
The prison doors were broken, the prisoners were released, and rejoiced
in the mighty stream of the Atbara.
The 24th of June, 1861, was a memorable day. Although this was actually
the beginning of my work, I felt that by the experience of this night I
had obtained a clew to one portion of the Nile mystery, and that, as
"coming events cast their shadows before," this sudden creation of a
river was but the shadow of the great cause. The rains were pouring in
Abyssinia! THESE WERE SOURCES OF THE NILE!
The journey along the margin of the Atbara was similar to the route from
Berber, through a vast desert, with a narrow band of trees that marked
the course of the river. The only change was the magical growth of the
leaves, which burst hourly from the swollen buds of the mimosas. This
could be accounted for by the sudden arrival of the river, as the water
percolated rapidly through the sand and nourished the famishing roots.
At Gozerajup, two hundred and forty-six miles from Berber, our route was
changed. We had hitherto followed the course of the Atbara, but we were
now to leave that river on our right, while we travelled about ninety
miles south-east to Cassala, the capital of the Taka country, on the
confines of Abyssinia, and the great depot for Egyptian troops.
The entire country from Gozerajup to Cassala is a dead flat, upon which
there is not one tree sufficiently large to shade a full-sized tent.
There is no real timber in the country; but the vast level extent of
soil is a series of open plains and low bush of thorny mimosa. There is
no drainage upon this perfect level; thus, during the rainy season, the
soakage actually melts the soil, and forms deep holes throughout the
country, which then becomes an impenetrable slough, bearing grass and
jungle. No sooner had we arrived in the flooded country than my wife was
seized with a sudden and severe fever, which necessitated a halt upon
the march, as she could no longer sit upon her camel. In the evening
several hundreds of Arabs arrived and encamped around our fire. It was
shortly after sunset, and it was interesting to watch the extreme
rapidity with which these swarthy sons of the desert pitched their camp.
A hundred fires were quickly blazing; the women prepared the food, and
children sat in clusters around the blaze, as all were wet from paddling
through the puddled ground from which they were retreating.
No sooner was the bustle of arrangement completed than a gray old man
stepped forward, and, responding to his call, every man of the hundreds
present formed in line, three or four deep. At once there was total
silence, disturbed only by the crackling of the fires or by the cry of a
child; and with faces turned to the east, in attitudes of profound
devotion, the wild but fervent followers of Mahomet repeated their
evening prayer. The flickering red light of the fires illumined the
bronze faces of the congregation, and as I stood before the front line
of devotees, I tools off my cap in respect for their faith, and at the
close of their prayer made my salaam to their venerable Faky (priest);
he returned the salutation with the cold dignity of an Arab.
On the next day my wife's fever was renewed, but she was placed on a
dromedary and we reached Cassala about sunset. The place is rich in
hyenas, and the night was passed in the discordant howling of these
disgusting but useful animals. They are the scavengers of the country,
devouring every species of filth and clearing all carrion from the
earth. Without the hyenas and vultures the neighborhood of a Nubian
village would be unbearable. It is the idle custom of the people to
leave unburied all animals that die; thus, among the numerous flocks and
herds, the casualties would create a pestilence were it not for the
birds and beasts of prey.
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