"When he was sent on his mission, he went and stayed some time with the

Turks, and returned to me.

"I spoke to him about the letter I sent through him to the Queen. He said,

that up to that time he had not received any intelligence concerning it. What

have I done, said I, that they should hate me, and treat me with animosity?

By the power of the Lord my creator, I kept silent."

Although the steamer Victoria only arrived in Massowah on the 23rd of

July, we had as yet received no letters from Consul Cameron, nor from any

of the captives. By the Victoria we were informed that Mr. Rassam was

recalled and Mr. Palgrave appointed. Under the new aspect matters had

suddenly taken, Mr. Rassam could but refer to Government for instructions.

We therefore at once started for Egypt, where we arrived on the 5th of

September.

Through her Majesty's Agent and Consul-General, Government was

apprised of the receipt of a letter from Theodore, granting us permission to

enter Abyssinia; that the letter was uncourteous, and not signed; that

Cameron was released, and though Cameron had always insisted on our not

proceeding into the interior with or without safe-conduct, we were ready to

go at once, should Government consider it advisable. Mr. Palgrave was told

to remain, Mr. Rassam and his companions to go; a certain sum of money

was allowed for presents; letters for the governors of the Soudan were

obtained; and, our necessary stores and outfit being purchased; we returned

to Massowah, where we arrived on the 25th of September.

There we heard that messengers had arrived from the prisoners; that they

had been taken to Aden by a man-of-war; and that they had verbally

reported, that far from having been released, hand-chains had been added to

the captives' previous fetters. As we could not find anybody to accompany

us through the Soudan (on account of its unhealthiness at that time of the

year) before the middle of October, we thought it advisable to proceed at

once to Aden, in order to gain correct information from the captives' letters,

as to their actual condition, and to confer with the Political Resident of that

station, as to the expediency of complying with the Emperor's requests,

under the totally different aspect matters now presented.

Although Captain Cameron, in several of his former communications, had

repeatedly insisted that on no account we should enter Abyssinia, in the

note just received he implored us to come up at once, as our declining to do

so would prove of the utmost danger to the prisoners. The Political

Resident, therefore, taking into consideration Captain Cameron's earnest

appeal for Mr. Rassam to acquiesce with Theodore's request, advised us to

proceed and hope for the best.

After a short stay at Aden we again returned to Massowah, and, with the

utmost diligence, made all our arrangements for the long journey that lay

before us. Unfortunately cholera had broken out, the natives were unwilling

to cross the plains of Braka and Taka, on account of the malarious fever, so

deadly at that time of the year, and it required all the influence of the local

authorities to insure our speedy departure.

CHAPTER V.

From Massowah to Kassala—The Start—The Habab—Adventures of M.

Marcopoli—The Beni Amer—Arrival at Kassala—The Nubian Mutiny—

Attempt of De Bisson to found a Colony in the Soudan.

On the afternoon of the 15th October, all our preparations being apparently

complete, the mission, composed of Mr. H. Rassam, Lieut. W.F. Prideaux,

of her Majesty's Bombay Staff Corps, and myself, started on its dangerous

enterprise. We were accompanied by a nephew of the Naib of Arkiko; and

an escort of Turkish Irregulars had been graciously sent by the Pasha to

protect our sixty camels, laden with our personal luggage, stores, and

presents for the Ethiopian monarch. We also took with us several

Portuguese and other Indian servants, and a few natives of Massowah as

muleteers.

On a first march something is always found wanting. On this occasion

many of the cameleers were unprovided with ropes: boxes, portmanteaubags, were strewed all over the road, and night was far advanced before the

last camel reached Moncullou. A halt was in consequence absolutely

necessary, so that the actual start was only made on the afternoon of the

16th.

From Moncullou our route lay N.W. across the desert of Chab, a dreary

wilderness of sand, intersected by two winter torrents, generally dry: but by

digging in their sandy beds it is possible at all seasons to obtain some

muddy water. The rapidity with which these torrents fill up is most

astonishing.

During the summer of 1865, we had made a trip to Af-Abed, in the Hababs'

country. On our return, whilst crossing the desert, we experienced a very

severe storm. We had just reached our encamping-ground on the Southern

bank of one of these water-courses, and half the camels had already crossed

the dry bed of the river, when, on a sudden, a tremendous roar was heard,

shortly afterwards followed by a fearful rush of water. In the former empty

bed of the torrent now dashed a mighty stream, tearing down trees and

rocks, so that no human being could possibly cross. Our luggage and

servants were still on the opposite bank, and although we were only a

stone's throw from the party so suddenly cut off from us, we had to spend

the night on the bare ground, with no other covering than our clothing.

In the very centre of the desert of Chab, arises, Amba Goneb, a conical

basaltic rock several hundred feet high, an advanced sentry detached from

the now approaching mountains. On the evening of the 18th, we reached

Ain, and from the glaring and dreary desert passed into a lovely valley,

watered by a small winding stream, cool and limpid, shaded by mimosas

and tamarinds, and glowing with the freshness and luxuriance of topical

vegetation. [Footnote: The distance from Massowah to Ain is about fortyfive miles.]

We were fortunate enough to leave the cholera behind us. Apart from a few

cases of diarrhoea, easily checked, the whole party was in excellent health;

every one in high spirits at the prospect of visiting almost unknown regions,

and above all at having at last bid adieu to Massowah, where we had spent

in anxious expectation long and dreary months.

From Ain to Mahaber [Footnote: From Ain to Mahaber (direction E. by N.)

about twenty miles.] the road is most picturesque; always following the

winding of the small river Ain, here and there compressed to only a few

yards by perpendicular walls of trachyte, or basalt; further on expanding

into miniature green plateaus, bordered by conical hills, covered to the very

summit by mimosas and huge cactuses, alive with large hordes of antelopes

(the agazin), which, bounding from rock to rock, scared by their frolics the

countless host of huge baboons. The valley itself, graced by the presence of

gaudy-feathered and sweet-singing birds, echoed to the shrill cry of the

numerous guinea-fowls, so tame, that the repeated reports of our fire-arms

did not disturb them in the least.

At Mahaber we were obliged to remain several days awaiting fresh camels.

The Hababs, who had now to supply us, frightened by the presence of the

hairy nephew of the Nab and the Bashi-hazouks, made themselves scarce,

and it was only after much parley and the repeated assurance that every one

would be paid, that the camels at last made their appearance. The Hababs

are a large pastoral tribe, inhabiting the Ad Temariam, a hilly and well-

watered district, about fifty miles north-west of Massowah, included

between longitude 38.39 and latitude 16 to 16.30. They represent the finest

type of the roving Bedouins; of middle height, muscular, well made, they

claim an Abyssinian origin. With the exception of a darker hue of the skin,

certainly in other respects they do not differ from the inhabitants of the

table-land, and have but few characteristics of the aboriginal African races.

Some fifty years ago they were a Christian tribe—nominally, at least—but

were converted to Mohammedanism by an old Sheik, still alive, who

resides near Moncullou, and is an object of great veneration all over the

Samhar. Once their doubts removed, their suspicions lulled, the Hababs

proved themselves friendly, willing, and obliging.

Gratitude is no common virtue in Africa, at least as far as my own

experience goes. Its rarity brings back to my memory a fact that I will here

record. On our previous trip to the Ad Temariam, I had seen several

patients, amongst them a young man, suffering from remittent fever, and I

gave him some medicine. Hearing of our arrival at Mahaber, he came to

thank me, bringing as an offering a small skin of milk. He apologized for

the absence of his aged father, who also, he said, wished to kiss my feet, but

the distance (about eight miles) was too much for the old man's strength.

I may as well mention here that a young commercial traveller, Mr.

Marcopoli, had accompanied us from Massowah. He was going to

Metemma, viâ Kassala, to be present at the annual fairs held at that place in

winter. He took advantage of our short stay at Mahaber, to proceed to

Keren, in the Bogos, where he was called by business, intending to join

again our party a few stages ahead. We looked at our map, and estimated

the distance from our halting-place to the Bogos at the utmost eighteen

miles. As he was provided with excellent mules, in four or five hours he

naturally expected to reach his destination. He accordingly started at

daybreak, and never halted once; but night was far advanced before he

perceived the lights of the first village on the Bogos plateau: so much for

travellers' maps. The poor man's anxiety had been great. Soon after dark he

perceived—or, as I suspect, imagination worked to a high pitch of

excitement through fear, conjured to his fancy the phantom of some huge

animal—a lion, a tiger, he did not know very exactly; but, at all events, he

saw some horrid beast of prey, glaring at him through the brushwood, with

fiery and bloodshot eyes, watching all his movements for a suitable

opportunity to fall upon his helpless prey. However, he reached Keren in

safety.

He found that we were expected by the Bogos people, who believed that we

were proceeding by the upper route. Flowers were to be strewed in our path,

and our entrance was to be welcomed by dances and songs in our praise; the

officer in command of the troops was to receive us with military honours,

the civil governor intended to entertain us on a large scale: in a word, a

grand reception was to be offered to the English friends of the mighty

Theodore. The disappointment was no doubt great when Mr. Marcopoli

informed the Bogosites that our route lay in an opposite direction to their

fair province. On that the military commander decided on accompanying

Mr. Marcopoli back, and paying us his respects at our halting-place.

Marcopoli was delighted; he had a too vivid recollection of his lion not to

be overjoyed at the idea of having companions with him.

Late in the evening they started, the Abyssinian officer and his men having

before marching indulged in deep draughts of tej to keep out the cold. On

their way down, the "warriors" cantered about in the most frantic manner;

now riding at a full gallop up to poor Marcopoli, the lance in rest, and

dexterously wheeling round when the weapon almost touched his breast;

then charging upon him at full speed and firing off their loaded pistols quite

close, and only a few feet above his head. Marcopoli felt very

uncomfortable in the society of his bellicose and drunken escort, but not

knowing their language, he had nothing to do but to appear pleased.

Early in the morning, at our second stage from Mahaber, these specimens of

Abyssinian soldiers made their appearance, and a batch of more villanouslooking scoundrels I have never seen during my stay in Abyssinia:

evidently Theodore was not very particular as to whom he selected for such

distant outposts, unless he considered the roughest and most disorderly the

fittest for such duties. They presented us with a cow they had stolen on the

road, and begged us not to forget to mention to their master that they had

come all the distance from Bogos to pay their respects to his guests. After

having refreshed themselves with a few glasses of brandy and partaken of a

slight collation, they kissed the ground in acknowledgment of the pleasant

things they had received in return for their gift, and departed—to our great

satisfaction.

On that 23rd we started from Mahaber, going due west, and following for

eight miles longer the charming valley of Ain. Afterwards, we diverged to

the left, going in a south-west direction, until we reached the province of

Barka; when again our route lay west by north, until we came to Zaga.

From this point to Kassala the general direction is west by south. [Footnote:

The distance from Mahaber to Adart on the frontier of Barka is about fifty

miles; from Adart to Kassala about 130 miles.] From Mahaber to Adart the

road is very pleasant; for several days we continually ascended, and the

more we advanced into the mountainous region the more agreeable and

pleasant did we feel it, and we enjoyed the sight of splendid and luxuriant

vegetation.

On the 25th we crossed the Anseba, a large river flowing from the high

lands of Bogos, Hamasien, and Mensa, and joining the river Barka at Tjab.

[Footnote: Tjab, lat. 17 10', long. 37 15'.]

We spent a pleasant day in the beautiful Anseba valley, but aware of the

danger of remaining after sunset near its flowery but malarious banks, we

pitched our tent on a rising ground at some distance, and the next morning

proceeded to Haboob, the highest point we had to gain before descending

into the Barka through the difficult pass of Lookum. After this abrupt

descent of more than 2,000 feet, the roads generally slope towards the low

land of Barka.

From Ain to Haboob [Footnote: The Anseba, at the point we crossed, is

about 4,000 feet above the level of the sea; Haboob about 4,500.] the

country is well wooded, and watered by innumerable small streams. The

soil is formed of the detritus of the volcanic rocks, specially of feldspar;

pumice abounds in the ravines. The channels of the rivulets are the only

roads for the traveller. This mountain chain is, on the whole, a pleasant spot,

more delightful for the reason that it rises between the arid shores of the

Red Sea and the flat, hot, and level plains of the Soudan. The province of

Barka is a boundless prairie, about 2,500 feet above the level of the sea,

covered at the time of our journey with half-dried grass some five or six

feet high, and dotted here and there with small woods of stunted mimosas.

From Barka to Metemma we find alluvium as the general formation.

Water is scarce; even a month after the rainy season all the rivers are dried

up, and water is only obtained by digging in the sand of the dry beds of the

river Barka and its tributaries. When we passed through these plains many

spots were still green; but a few months later we should have crossed a

parched-up prairie little better than the desert itself.

Our pretty songsters of Ain were no more to be seen. The guinea-fowl was

seldom met with, and only a few tiny antelopes wandered over the solitary

expanse. Instead, we were aroused by the roar of the lion, the laugh of the

hyena, and we had to protect our sheep and goats, as the spotted leopard

was lurking around our tents.

On the 31st of October we reached Zaga, a large sloping plain situated at

the junction of the Barka and the Mogareib. Water can be obtained at that

spot by digging wells in the dried-up beds of the rivers, in sufficient

quantity to have induced the Beni Amer to make it their winter encampingground.

We had that day made a very long march, on account of the absence of

water on the road. Starting at two P.M., we only reached our halting ground

(the bed of a dried-up winter torrent, a few hundred yards below the Beni

Amer's camp), a couple of hours before daybreak. We were so sleepy and

tired that during the latter part of the stage it had been with great difficulty

that we managed to keep in the saddle; and no sooner did our guide give us

the grateful intelligence that we had arrived, than we stretched on the

ground the piece of tanned cowhide we carried with us, and covering

ourselves with our cloaks, lay down to rest until daybreak. I offered to Mr.

Marcopoli to share my "bedding," as his own had not arrived, and in a few

minutes we both fell into that deep slumber that follows the exhaustion of a

long weary march. I remember my disgust at being violently shaken by my

bed companion; who, in a faint and trembling voice, whispered into my ear:

"Look there!" I understood at once his look of anguish and terror, for two

splendid lions, not more than twenty paces from us, were drinking near the

wells that had been sank by the Arabs. I thought, and told my companion,

that as we had no fire-arms with us; the wisest plan was to go to sleep and

remain as quiet as possible. I set him the example, and only woke up late in

the morning, when the sun was already high up and pouring its burning rays

over my uncovered head. Marcopoli, with an absent terrified look

impressed on his countenance, was still sitting near me. He told me that he

had not slept, but kept watching the lions: they had remained for a long

time, drinking, roaring and beating their sides with their tails; and even

when they departed he kept listening to their dreadful roar, sounding more

distant as the first rays of day appeared.

We had, no doubt, had a narrow escape, as that night a lion had carried

away a man and a child who had strayed from the Arab encampment. The

Sheik of the Beni Amer, during the few days we remained at Zaga, with

true Arab hospitality, always placed at night a strong guard around our tent,

to watch the large fires that they kindle in order to keep at a respectful

distance these unwelcome night rovers.

We had agreed with the Hababs that we would exchange camels at this spot,

but none could be obtained for love or money. It was lucky for us that the

Bedouins had by this time found out that all white men are not Turks,

otherwise we should have been cast helpless in the very centre of Barka.

The Beni Amers could never be induced even to acknowledge that they had

camels, though more than 10,000 were grazing under our very eyes.

The Beni Amers are Arabs, speak the Arab language, and have preserved

up to the present day all the characteristics of their race. A roving Bedouin

of the Yemen and a Beni Amer are so much alike that it seems hardly

credible that the Beni Amers possess no record of their advent on the

African coast, or of the causes that induced them to leave the land of their

ancestors. Their long, black, silky hair has not acquired the woolly texture

of that of the sons of Ham, and the small extremities, the well-knit limbs,

the straight nose and small lips, the dark bronzed complexion, distinguish

them alike from the Shankallas and the Barias, and from the mixed races of

the plateaus. They wear a piece of cloth a few yards in length, folded round

the body, with an elegance peculiar to the savage. Even with this dirty rag,

they must be admired, like the Italian beggar, not only for their beautiful

forms, but also for the look of impudence and roguery displayed in the

bright glare of their dark eyes. The Beni Amers retain to a high degree that

nuisance so well described by a distinguished traveller in the East, and, like

their brethren of the Arabian shore, they are une race bavarde et criarde .

They pay a nominal tribute to the Egyptian Government, and the reason we

could not obtain camels was that, troops being moved about, they feared

that on their arrival at Kassala they would be pressed into the Government

service, and not only receive no pay, but most likely in the end lose the

greater number of their camels. This tribe roams along the banks of the

Barka and its many tributaries. Zaga is only their winter station; at other

times they wander over the immense plains north of Barka in search of

pasture and water for their innumerable flocks. All over the district of Zaga

camps appeared in every direction; the herds of cattle, especially camels,

seemed without number: this all indicates that they form a wealthy,

powerful tribe.

We encamped near their head-quarters, where resides the Sheik of all the

Beni Amers, Ahmed, surrounded by his wives, children, and people. He is a

man of middle age, conspicuous among his cunning followers by a shrewd

and crafty look. He was friendly to us, and presented us with a few sheep

and cows. His camp covered several acres of ground, the whole enclosed by

a strong fence; the wigwams are built in a circle a few feet from the hedge;

the open space in the centre being reserved for the cattle, always driven in

at night. The chief's small circular wood and grass huts contrasted

favourably with the dwellings of his followers. The latter, constructed in a

circle, are formed by thrusting into the ground the extremities of small

branches; a few pieces of coarse matting thrown over them complete the

structure. They cannot be more than four feet high, and their average

circumference is twelve feet; nevertheless, some eight or ten unwashed

faces were seen peeping through the small door, staring with their black,

frightened eyes at the strange white men. Small-pox was raging at the time

with great virulence; fever also was daily claiming many victims. I gave

medicine to several of the sufferers, and good hygienic advice to Sheik

Ahmed. He listened with all becoming respect to the good things that fell

from the Hakeem's lips: he would see; but they had never done so before,

and with Mussulman bigotry and superstition he put an end to the

conversation by an "Allah Kareem." [Footnote: "God is merciful"]

On the 3rd of November we were again on the march. On the 5th we

arrived al Sabderat, the first permanent village we had met with since

leaving Moncullou. This village—in appearance similar to those of the

Samhar—is built on the side of a large granitic mountain, cleft in two from

the summit to the base. Numerous wells are dug in the dried-up bed of the

water-course that separates the village. The inhabitants of this divided

village often contend between themselves for the possession of the precious

fluid; and when the rushing waters have disappeared, human passions too

often fill with strife and warfare the otherwise quiet bed of the stream.

On the morning of November 6 we entered Kassala. The Nab's nephew had

preceded us, to inform the governor of our arrival, and present him with a

letter recommending us to the care of the authorities, written by the Pasha

of Egypt. To honour us according to his masters firman, the governor sent

all the garrison to meet us a few miles from the town, with a polite apology

for his absence, due to sickness. The senior partner of the Greek firm of

Paniotti also came to welcome us, and afforded us the hospitality of his

house and board.

Kassala, the capital of Takka, a walled town near the River Gash,

containing about 10,000 inhabitants, is on the model of most modern

Egyptian towns, public as well as private buildings being alike of mud. The

arsenal, barracks, &c. are the only structures of any importance. Beautiful

gardens have been made at a short distance from the town, near the Biver

Gash, by the European portion of the community. Just before, and

immediately after the rains, the place is very unhealthy. During those

months malarious fever and dysentery prevail to a great extent.

Kassala, formerly a prosperous city, the centre of all the trade of the

immense tract of country included from Massowah and Suakin to the Nile,

and from Nubia to Abyssinia, was, at the date of our arrival, almost

deserted, covered with ruins and rank vegetation, destitute of the most

common necessaries of life, the spectre of its former self, haunted by its few

remaining ghost-like and plague-stricken citizens. Kassala had just gone

through the ordeal of a mutiny of Nubian troops. Pernicious fevers,

malignant dysenteries and cholera had decimated both rebels and loyalists;

war and sickness had marched hand in hand to make of this fair oasis of the

Soudan a wilderness painful to contemplate. The mutiny broke out in July.

The Nubian troops had not been paid for two years, and when they claimed

a portion of their arrears, they only met with a stern refusal. Under these

circumstances, it is not astonishing that they became ready listeners to the

treasonable words and extravagant promises made to them by one of their

petty chiefs, named Denda, a descendant of the former Nubian kings. They

matured their plot in great secresy, and every one was horrified one

morning to learn that the black troops had broken out in open mutiny and

murdered their officers, and, no longer restrained, had followed their natural

inclinations to revel in carnage and plunder. A few Egyptian regulars had,

luckily, possession of the arsenal, and held it against these infuriated

savages until troops could arrive from Kedaref and Khartoum. The

Europeans and Egyptians gallantly defended their part of the town. They

erected walls and small earthworks between themselves and the mutineers,

and continually on the alert, though few in number, they repulsed with great

gallantry the assault of the fiends thirsting for their lives and property.

Egyptian troops poured in from all directions and relieved the besieged city.

More than a thousand of the mutineers were killed near the gates of the

town; nearly a thousand more were tried and executed; and those who

attempted to escape the vengeance of the merciless pasha and fled for safety

to the wilderness, were hunted down like beasts by the roving Bedouins.

Though order was now restored, it was no easy matter to obtain camels. It

required all the power and persuasion of the authorities to induce the

Shukrie-Arabs to enter the town and convey us to Kedaref.

We heard at Kassala the miserable end of Le Comte de Bisson's mad

enterprise. It appears that the Comte, formerly an officer in the Neapolitan

army, had married at an advanced age a beautiful, accomplished and rich

heiress, the daughter of some contractor; it was "a mariage de convenance,"

a title bought by wealth and beauty. In the autumn of 1864, De Bisson

reached Kassala accompanied by some fifty adventurers, the scum of the

outcasts of all nations, who had enrolled themselves under the standard of

the ambitions Comte, "on the promised assurance that power and wealth

would be, before long, their envied portion." De Bisson's idea seems to

have been to personify a second Moses: he came not only to colonize, but

also to convert. The wild roving Bedouin of the Barka plains would, he

believed, not only at once and with gratitude acknowledge his rule, but

would soon, abandoning his false creed, fall prostrate before the altar he

intended to erect in the wilderness. About a hundred town Arabs were

induced to join the European party,—a useless set of vagabonds, who

adorned themselves with the regimental uniform, accepted the rifle, pistol,

and sword, drew their rations, were punctual in their attendance and always

ready to salaam, but showed much dislike to the drill and other civilized

notions the Comte and his officers endeavoured to impress upon them.

Their departure from Kassala for the land of milk and honey was quite

theatrical; in front rode on a camel, a gallant captain (who had taken his

discharge from the Austrian service,) playing on the bugle a parting

"fanfare;" behind him, the second in command, mounted on a prancing

charger, and followed by the European part of the force, who with military

step, and shoulder to shoulder, marched as men for whom victory is their

slave. Behind came Le Comte himself, clad in a general's uniform, his

breast covered with the many decorations which sovereigns had only been

too proud to confer on such a noble spirit; next to him rode gracefully his

beautiful wife, looking handsomer still in the picturesque kepi and red

uniform of a French zouave; behind, closing the march, the well-knit Arabs,

with plunder written in their dark bright eyes, marched with a quick elastic

step and as much regularity as could be expected from men who abhorred

order and had been drilled for so short a time. Need I say that the expedition

failed utterly? The Arabs of the plains declined to accept another pontiff

and king in the person of the gallant and noble Comte. They were even

vicious enough to induce those of their brethren who had accepted service,

to return to their former occupations, and forget to leave behind them on

their departure the arms, clothes, etc., which had been dealt out to them on

their entering the Comte's service.

The return to Kassala was humble: there was no trumpet this time; the

brilliant uniforms had given way to soiled and patched raiments: even the

general adopted a civilian's dress; the lady alone was still smiling, laughing,

beautiful as ever; but no Arab in gaudy attire closed the hungry-looking and

worn out cortege. De Bisson had failed: but why?—Because the Egyptian

Government had not only afforded none of the assistance that had been

promised to him, but all at once stopped the supplies he considered himself

entitled to expect. A claim of I do not know how many millions was at once

made on the Egyptian Government. A commissioner was sent out, who it

appears took a very different view of the question, as he declared the

"Comte's" pretensions absurd and unreasonable. The Comte soon

afterwards, with his wife, returned to Nice, leaving at Kassala the remnant

of his European army; the few who had not succumbed to fever or other

malarious diseases.

At the time of the mutiny of the Nubian troops, a few not in hospital or on

their way to Khartoum or Massowah, fought well; two even paid with their

lives their gallant attempt at a sortie, and they had gained for themselves, by

their bravery in those difficult times, the respect they had lost during the

long days of inaction.

De Bisson was instrumental in spreading the most fallacious reports as to

the condition of the captives held by Theodore, and even when an army was

already marching to their rescue, "correct" accounts appeared of the repulse

of the British by Theodore; at another time a mendacious report was spread

that a great battle had been fought in Tigré between Theodore and a

powerful rebel—a battle which was said to have lasted three days without

any marked success having been gained by either side; and that Theodore,

having perceived in the enemy's camp some Europeans, had sent orders for

our immediate execution; the fulfilment of the sentence resting with the

Empress, who was residing at Gondar, and that his (De Bisson's) agent was

using his influence to stay the execution. Absurd and ridiculous as were

these reports, they were not the less productive of great distress to the

families and friends of the captives.

During the five days we spent at Kassala, I am happy to say that I was able

to relieve many sufferers; amongst them our host himself, and one of his

guests, a young, well-educated Egyptian officer, laid at death's door by a

severe attack of dysentery.

A Nubian colonel called on us one morning; he strongly advised us to stop

before it was too late. He had heard much about Theodore's doings, and

assured us that we would meet but with deceit and treachery at his hands.

On our telling him that we were officers and bound to obey, he said, nothing

more, but bid us good-by in a sorrowful voice.

CHAPTER VI.

Departure from Kassala—Sheik Abu Sin—Rumours of Theodore's

Defeat by Tisso Gobazé—Arrival at Metemma—Weekly Market

—The Takruries at Drill—Their Foray into Abyssinia—Arrival

of Letters from Theodore.

On the afternoon of the 10th November we started for Kedaref. Our route

now lay in a more southerly direction. On the 13th we crossed the Atbara, a

tributary of the Nile, bringing to the father of rivers the waters of Northern

Abyssinia. On the 17th we entered Sheik Abu Sin, the capital of the

province of Kedaref. [Footnote: From Kassala to Kedaref is about 120

miles.] Our cameleers belonged to the Shukrie-Arabs. They are a semipastoral, semi-agricultural tribe, and reside principally in the

neighbourhood of and along the course of the Atbara, or wander over the

immense plains that extend almost without limit from this river to the Nile.

They are more degenerated than the Beni-Amers, having mixed more with

the Nubian and other tribes that dwell around them. They speak an impure

Arabic. Many have retained the features and general appearance of the

original race, whilst others might be looked upon as half-castes, and some

can with difficulty be distinguished from the Nubians or Takruries.

From Kassala to Kedaref we crossed interminable plains, covered with high

grass, speckled here and there with woods of mimosas, too scanty to afford

the slightest shade or protection during the fearful heat of the mid-day sun.

Here and there on the horizon appeared a few isolated peaks; the Djbel

Kassala, a few miles south of the capital of Takka. Eastward, the Ela Hugel

and the Abo-Gamel were in sight for many days, whilst towards the west,

lost almost in the misty horizon, appeared in succession the outlines of

Derkeda and Kassamot.

The valley of the Atbara, luxuriant in vegetation, inhabited by all varieties

of the feathered tribe, visited by the huge thirsty quadruped of the savannah,

presented a spectacle so grand in its savage beauty that we could with

difficulty tear ourselves from its shady groves; had it not been that

"Forward" was our watchword, we would, braving malaria, have spent a

few days near its green and fragrant banks.

Sheik Abu Sin is a large village; the houses are circular and built of wood

and covered with straw; A small hut belonging to the firm of Paniotti, our

host of Kassala, was placed at our disposal. We shortly afterwards received

the visit of a Greek merchant, who came to consult me for a stiff joint

brought on by a gun-shot wound. It appears, that some years before, whilst

riding a camel on an elephant-hunting expedition, the gun, a large halfounce bore, went off by itself, he never knew how. All the bones of the

fore-arm had been smashed, the cicatrice of a dreadful flesh-wound showed

what sufferings he had undergone, and it was indeed a wonder for me that,

residing as he did in such a hot unhealthy climate, deprived of all medical

advice, he had not succumbed to the effects of the wound, still more that he

had been able to save the limb. I considered the cure so extraordinary, that,

as there was nothing to be done, I advised him to leave well alone.

The governor also called upon us, and we returned his civility. Whilst

sipping our coffee with him and other grandees of the place, we were told

that Tisso Gobazé, one of the rebels, had beaten Theodore and made him a

prisoner. He said he believed the news to be correct, but advised us to

inquire into it on our arrival at Metemma, and should we find it untrue, to

return on our steps and on no account to enter Abyssinia if Theodore was

still the ruler. He then gave us some examples of the Emperor's cruelty and

treachery; but we did not put much credence in his word, as we knew that

of old a bad feeling existed between the Abyssinian Christians and their

Mussulman neighbours of the plain. At Metemma that rumour was not even

known; however, we had no choice, and never thought one instant of

anything else but of accomplishing the mission intrusted to us, in face of all

perils and dangers.

At Kedaref we were lucky enough to arrive on a market-day, consequently

had no difficulty in exchanging camels. That very evening we were en route

again, still towards the south, but this time making almost an angle with our

former route, marching towards the rising sun.

Between Sabderat and Kassala, between that town and the Gash, we had for

the first time seen some cultivation; but it was nothing compared to the

immense vista of cultivated fields, beginning a day's journey from Sheik

Abu Sin, and extending, almost without interruption, throughout the

provinces of Kedaref and Galabat. Villages appeared in all directions,

crowning every rounded hillock. As we advanced, these eminences

increased in size until they gave place to hills and mountains, which

ultimately blend with the uninterrupted chain of high peaks forming the

Abyssinian table-land, now again, after so many days, rising before us.

We arrived at Metemma on the afternoon of the 21st of November. In the

absence of Sheik Jumma, the potentate of these regions, we were received

by his alter ego , who put one of the Imperial residences —a wretched barn

—at the disposal of the "great men from England." If we deduct the seven

days we were obliged to halt en route , on account of the difficulty we had

in obtaining camels, we performed the whole journey between Massowah

and Metemma, a distance of about 440 miles, in thirty days. Our journey on

the whole was extremely dreary and fatiguing. Apart from a few pretty

spots, such as from Ain to Haboob, the valleys of the Anseba and Atbara,

and from Kedaref to Galabat, we crossed only endless savannahs, saw not a

human being, not a hut, only now and then a few antelopes, or the tracks of

elephants, and heard no sound but the roar of wild beasts. Twice our

caravan was attacked by lions; unfortunately we did not see them, as we

were on both occasions riding ahead, but every night we heard their awful

roar, echoing like distant thunder in the still nights of those silent prairies.

The heat of the day was at times really painful. In order that the camels

might start in time, our tents were packed early; sometimes we would sit for

hours waiting the good pleasure of the cameleers under the scanty shade of

a mimosa, vainly endeavouring to find in its dwarfed foliage a relief from

the burning rays of the sun. Night after night, be it moonlight or starlight,

on we went; the task was before us, and duty urged us on to reach the land

where our countrymen were lingering in chains. Often in the saddle

between three and, four P.M., we have jogged along on our wearied mules

until the morning star had disappeared before the first rays of day. For

several days we had no water but the hot and filthy fluid we carried in

leathern skins; and even this nauseous decoction was so scanty and

precious, that we could not afford to soothe the sun-burnt skin and refresh

the exhausted frame by a timely ablution.

Notwithstanding the discomfort, inconveniences, nay, danger of crossing

the Soudan in that unhealthy season of the year, by care and attention we

reached Metemma without having had a single death to lament. Several of

the followers and native servants, even Mr. Rassam, suffered more or less

from fever. They all eventually recovered, and when a few weeks later we

started for Abyssinia, the whole party was in better health than when we left

the hot and sultry shores of the Red Sea.

Metemma, the capital of Galabat, a province situated on the western frontier

of Abyssinia, is built in a large valley, about four miles from the Atbara. A

small rivulet runs at the foot of the village, and separates Galabat from

Abyssinia. On the Abyssinian side there is a small village, inhabited by the

few Abyssinian traders who reside there during the winter months; at which

period a large traffic is carried on with the interior. The round, conical hut is

here again the abode of all classes the size and better state of repair being

the only visible difference between the dwelling of the rich and that of his

less fortunate neighbour. Sheik Jumma's palaces are inferior to many of his

subjects' huts, probably to dispel the credited suspicion that he is rich, and

that incalculable treasures are buried under the ground. The huts put at our

disposal were, as I have already stated, his property; they are situated on

one of the small hills that overlook the town; the Sheik removes there with

his family during the rainy season, as it is in some degree less unhealthy

than the swampy ground below.

Though following the creed of the Medina prophet, the capital of

Galabat cannot boast of a single mosque.

The inhabitants of Galabat are Takruries, a negro race from Darfur. They

number about 10,000; of these 2,000 reside in the capital, the remainder in

the many villages that arise in all directions amidst cultivated fields and

green meadows. The whole province is well adapted for agricultural

purposes. Small rounded hillocks, separated by sloping valleys watered by

many rivulets, impart a pleasing aspect to the whole district; and if it was

not for the extreme unhealthiness of the place, it is possible to understand

the selection made by the Darfur pilgrims: though it is no compliment paid

to their own native land. The pious Darfur Mussulmans, on their way to

Mecca, observed this favoured spot, and fancied it realized, minus the

houris, some of the inferior Paradises of Mohammed. At last some

remained; Metemma was built; other pilgrims followed the example; and

soon, though a lazy and indolent race, owing to the extreme fertility of the

soil, they formed a prosperous colony.

At the outset they acknowledged the Sultan of Darfur, paid him tribute, and

were governed by one of his officers. But the Galabat colony soon found

out that the Egyptians and Abyssinians were more to be feared than their

distant sovereign, who could neither protect nor injure them; accordingly,

they quietly murdered the viceroy from Darfur, and elected a Sheik from

amongst themselves. The ruler at once made terms with both Egyptians and

Abyssinians, and tendered yearly tribute to both. This wise but servile

policy met with the best results; the colony increased and prospered, trade

flourished, Abyssinians and Egyptians flocked to the well-supplied market,

and the tribute of a few thousand dollars to each party fell lightly on the

now rich and cunning negroes.

From November to May, on Mondays and Tuesdays, the market is held on a

large open space in the centre of the village. Abyssinians bring horses,

mules, cattle, and honey; the Egyptian merchant displays in his stall, calico,

shirtings, hardware, and gaudy prints. Arabs and Takruries arrive with

camels laden with cotton and grain. The market-place is now a crowded and

exciting scene: horses are tried by half-naked jockeys, who, with whip and

heel, drive at a furious pace their diminutive steeds, reckless as to the limbs

and lives of the venturous spectators.

Here cotton is being loaded on donkeys, and will soon find its way to

Tschelga and Gondar; here some fat Nubian girls, redolent with rancid

castor-oil flowing from their woolly heads down their necks and shoulders,

issue grinning from a Frank's store, holding in their hands red and yellow

kerchiefs, the long-desired object of their dreams. The whole scene is

lively; good-humour prevails; and though the noise is fearful, the

bargaining being long and clamorous, and every one is armed with lance or

club, still, all is peaceful: no blood is ever shed on these occasions but that

of a few cows, killed for the many visitors from the high country who enjoy

their raw beefsteak under the cool shadow of the willows that border the

stream.