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 my 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 was 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 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 bush 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.
