Chapter I (1)

My former journey. Inducements to a second. Plan and object.
Custom-house difficulties at Suez. Scenes in the Governor’s
divan. Environs of Suez. Sulphur mine of Gimsah. Recluse
life of the officials. An unenticing coast. The roadstead of
Djidda. The bride of the fish. Voyage across the Red Sea.
Salt works of Roway. Appearance of the shore. Charm of the
moonlight nights. Importance of Suakin. First night-camp in
the mountains. New species of Dracæna. Numerous succulents
among the flora. The valley of Singat. Idyllic abode of the
Governor. Mountains of Erkoweet. The olive-tree wild. Gardens
of the desert. Characteristics of the town Bedouins. Equipment
for the desert. Old fanatic from Kano. Injury and oppression.
The Bedouin camp O-Mareg. Brown coating of the rocks. Goats and
sheep of the Bedouins. Plant with my own name. Contest with the
camel-drivers. Ugliness of the women. A monument of nature.
Arrival at the Nile. Tent in peril. A wedding. The ninety-nine
islands and the Sablook-straits. Pitiable condition of the
country. Arrival at Khartoom.

When, in the summer of 1868, I prepared for the great journey, of which the following pages contain the description, I was already no novice on African soil. In 1863 I had served an apprenticeship in the art of travelling in the sunny fields of Egypt and Nubia. For months together, in my own boat, I had navigated the Red Sea; and it was while I was exploring the untraversed mountains by its coasts that I seriously conceived my larger project. My curiosity was particularly attracted towards the district of the independent Bishareen. I had then repeatedly crossed the country between the Nile and the sea, and while sojourning on the lower terraces of the Abyssinian highlands, I had learnt to appreciate the full enchantment of the wonders of nature in Africa.

In 1866, passing through Khartoom and Berber, I found my way back again to Egypt.

Once entertained, the project of the botanical investigation of these lands resolved itself more and more into the problem of my life. The splendid herbarium, too, which I had carried home as the reward of my labours, obtained though it was at the cost of repeated attacks of fever, contributed to intensify my desire. Altogether the result of my first attempt was an encouragement and happy omen for my success in a second. My experience hitherto was likewise advantageous to me so far as this,—it had afforded opportunity of cultivating the faculty so necessary to every explorer of unknown districts, of correctly generalising from details. Observations and impressions require to be surveyed from a comprehensive point of view, in order that the characteristic features of a country may be represented in their true proportions.

Besides this general information which I had practically gained and which I could no more have learnt from books than I could have learnt the foreign habits and modes of thought, I had also acquired that fluency in the Arab vernacular which is indispensable to every traveller, and which, moreover, appears to suffice for the whole of the immense district which is commanded by the Nile and its host of tributaries.

[Sidenote: BOTANICAL ARDOUR.]

Herbarium, topography, and language all seemed to favour me; the chief drawback was the state of my health. I suffered from a disorganised condition of the spleen, which gave me some uneasiness and misgiving; yet, after all, it appeared to be just the key that had unlocked the secret of the unexampled good fortune of my journey. The numerous attacks of fever had probably reduced it to such a state of inactivity, that it ceased to be affected by any miasma; or perhaps it had assumed the function of a condensator, so as to render the miasma innocuous. Anyhow, it seemed to perform services which I could not do otherwise than gratefully accept as a timely gift of Providence. As a farewell on my landing in Alexandria, I experienced one slight twinge from my malady, and then it was quiet; it did not again re-appear even in the noxious swamps of the Upper Nile, which had been disastrous to so many of my predecessors. No recurrence of my disorder interrupted my activity or clouded my enjoyment, but fever-free I remained, an exception among a hundred travellers.

The time which elapsed between the completion of my first, and the commencement of my second journey, was occupied in studies which were directed to the scientific classification and analysis of what had been so abundantly secured.

Whoever knows the blameless avarice of a plant-hunter will understand how these studies could only arouse in me a craving after fresh booty. I could not forget that the greater part of the Nile territory, with the mysterious flora of its most southern affluents, still remained a fresh field for botanical investigations; and no wonder that it presented itself as an object irresistibly attractive to my desires. But one who has himself, on the virgin soil of knowledge in unopened lands, been captivated by the charm of gathering fresh varieties, and has surrendered himself to the unreserved enjoyment of Nature’s freedom, will be prompted to yet keener eagerness; such an one cannot be daunted by any privation he has undergone, nor deterred by any alarm for his health: he recalls as a vision of Paradise the land he has learnt to love; he exaggerates the insalubrity of a northern climate; he bewails the wretched formality of our civilised life, and so, back to the distant solitudes flies his recollection like a dove to the wilderness.

Of this kind were my impressions as these two years passed away. I was prohibited from any immediate prosecution of my hope by the inadequacy of my pecuniary means. A welcome opportunity, however, soon presented itself, and enabled me to resume my investigation of the district of the Nile.

After the death of Alexander von Humboldt, there had been founded in Berlin, as a monument of gratitude and recognition of his services, the “Humboldt Institution of Natural Philosophy and Travels.” The object of this was, without regard to nationality or creed, to assist talent in every direction in which Humboldt had displayed his scientific energies; and it was especially directed that the funds should be applied to promote travels in the most-remote districts. The Institute contemplated a supply of means for the prosecution of those philosophical studies to which Humboldt dedicated himself with such unceasing ardour. The Royal Academy of Science of Berlin was vested alike with the power of deciding on the undertakings and of selecting suitable agents to carry out their designs.

To that eminent scientific corporation I ventured to submit a scheme for the botanical investigation of those equatorial districts which are traversed by the western affluents of the Upper Nile. My proposal met with a ready sanction, and I was rejoiced to receive a grant of the disposable funds of the Institution, which had been accumulating for the space of five years.

Thus it happened, that in July 1868 I was once more upon the soil of Africa.

[Sidenote: GOVERNMENT COUNTENANCE.]

During my first stay at Khartoom, which is the centre of government of the Egyptian Soudan, I had collected a variety of information about the ivory expeditions undertaken by the merchants of the place to the country about the sources of the Nile; I had likewise made certain alliances with the natives, and by these means I hoped to project a plan for a scientific progress over the district on a firm basis. There was no doubt that in the heathen negro districts of the Upper Nile, the Egyptian Government exercised little influence and no authority. Under its direction, the Khartoom merchants had indeed done something—for sixteen years they had traversed the land in well-nigh every direction, and they had established stations for themselves in the negro borders; but they had not made good any hold upon the territory in general. Nevertheless, I had no alternative than to conclude that without the countenance of the Government, and without the co-operation and support of the merchants, there was no reasonable expectation that the objects of a scientific traveller could be forwarded.

I was quite aware that various travellers had already attempted, at a large sacrifice of money, to arrange independent expeditions, and to engage an adequate number of armed men on their own responsibility; but no sooner had they reached the more remote regions, where the few channels of the river were all in the hands of the merchants, than they necessarily became dependent on the merchants for their supplies. There was, besides, no other quarter on which to rely for obtaining porters, who are indispensable in a country where all known beasts of burden are accustomed in a short time to succumb to the climate.

Upon the whole, therefore, I soon came to the determination of being taken in the train of the merchants of Khartoom, trusting that the countries opened by them would offer sufficient scope for all my energies. It was probable that the ivory traders would never, of their own accord, want to thwart me; yet I would not rely entirely on this, as I knew that they were themselves subjects of the Viceroy. As matter of fact, probably, they were entire masters of the situation in the negro countries, and really irresponsible; but still their interests made them apparently subservient to an absolute government, and this was the handle that I desired to use accordingly. By diplomatic interest, I had secured the ostensible recognition of the Viceregal Government, but from my own experience, I was fully convinced that mere letters of recommendation to the local authorities, as long as their contents are limited to ordinary formal phrases, are of very questionable advantage. I might refer particularly to Sir Samuel Baker’s misadventure as affording an illustration of the insufficiency of such credentials. I considered myself fortunate, therefore, in obtaining from the Prime Minister of the Viceroy (although he was himself not in residence) special orders, which I knew were indispensable, to the Governor-General of Khartoom. The Governor-General was to superintend any contract which I might make with the merchants to secure that my journey through the district of the Gazelle River should be unhindered, and to ensure the due fulfilment of whatever obligations might be undertaken.

Thus the course appeared to be smooth, by which I might hope to reach the centre of the mysterious continent; but I was still far from my object, still far from the point which I could consider as the true starting-point of my real journey. Between Alexandria and Khartoom was a route familiar enough, but even Khartoom could hardly be deemed the beginning. In order to reach the cannibal and the pigmy there faced me, as perchance there does the reader, many a trial of patience. What I did in Alexandria and Cairo can afford little or no interest; I was there fully occupied in preparations and purchases for my equipment, at times feeling much depressed. Before me lay the uncertain future, and the perils, which I could not conceal from myself, of this inhospitable region; and behind me was Europe, in which to dwell was insupportable, without seeing my cherished designs accomplished.

[Sidenote: AT SUEZ.]

In Suez the dejection of despondency yielded to feelings of a more lively nature, partly from vexation, partly from amusement. The custom-house afforded me vexation, whilst the Governor’s divan was an unfailing source of amusement. I arrived in Suez on the 16th of August, proposing to continue my journey to Djidda by the next steamer. Much gratified by the intelligence that a steamer belonging to the Sulphur Company would start in four days, I was proceeding to embark at once, when I was stopped by the custom-house authorities, who desired a strict investigation of the luggage, and insisted upon payment of the tariff duties for every article of my huge accumulation of baggage. Perhaps everything might have been arranged, but when my additional waggon appeared, although I explained that it had been furnished me by the Government, and notwithstanding that I was the bearer of letters directed to the Egyptian revenue officers, the director required an extra special order, and referred me to the Governor, who telegraphed back to Alexandria. In the meantime, for the next two days, I was compelled to take turns with my factotum, the Nubian servant, to sit in the sun on my baggage in order to protect my boxes which contained my money bags full of Maria Theresa dollars. As a refuge for the night I betook myself to a hotel, not much larger than a hut, in which I had already some years previously found the accommodation just suited to give me a foretaste of the privations of the desert.

My consternation may be imagined, when at last there arrived from the capital an order that I must pay precisely as any ordinary traveller. Hardly had I recovered my first surprise, when accidentally one of the Governor’s clerks called attention to some contradictions in the despatch. Further inquiries were instituted, and the discovery was made that an important word had been overlooked, and that the tenor of the message was that I was “_not_” to pay.

Whilst this was going on, and I was kept in my suspense, I stayed chiefly in the Governor’s divan. This officer, untroubled at the revolutions which were taking place around him, untouched by any development of the spirit of the age so perceptible here, where three-quarters of the world join hands, ruled his people in simplicity and in the fear of the Lord. During the time which I passed sitting in his divan awaiting the issue of events, I was a witness of several incidents exhibiting this simplicity, and which struck me as being somewhat ludicrous. First stepped in a swarthy-looking fellow, with a knavish countenance, such as one meets but seldom even in the streets of Alexandria. He wanted to legitimatise himself in his character of a British subject, or “_protégé_” as he styled himself. To the Governor’s inquiry where he came from, he said from Tarablus. “Tarablus! then how can you be English?” said the Governor. “Why, surely, because Tarablus is in the west,” replied the rogue. It was objected that he was forging a lie, and that Tarablus was not in the west, and thence there ensued a tedious geographical discussion about Eastern and Western Tripoli. The rascal went on to assert that his father was a native of Malta, that after his death he had married, settled in Tripoli, and had become a Mohammedan; and then he cunningly added, “Allah be with you, and give you grace! I should hope I could be an Englishman and yet be a good Mussulman.” Quite satisfied, the Governor gave a contented look, and let him pass. The order was given for the next applicant to be heard. With hesitating steps there now approached a little man, black and repulsive, bringing with him a veiled girl to the front. It was a scene which suggested the thought that he must be a slave-dealer, and it reminded me of one of Horace Vernet’s famous pictures; but the circumstances were different. He proceeded to unroll mysteriously and display a splendid caftan of yellow silk. He was, it seemed, a tailor of the suburbs, and the veiled beauty was a slave-girl from Enarea, who had formerly been sold for filthy lucre, and was now bartering her honesty under the same inducement. The caftan was a gorgeous vestment lined with imitation ermine, and not unlike the night-dress of Ivan the Terrible, which is preserved in the Troitsky convent near Moscow. The girl had ordered the dress, and now would not pay for it, and accordingly the tailor had brought her with him to the Governor, and so enforced his demand.

[Sidenote: SCENE IN THE DIVAN.]

The next scene had a wonderful climax. It might almost remind one of the tedious campaign ending with the sudden collapse of Magdala. What the beginning of the contention was, I cannot tell. The Governor had apparently been trying to mediate between two Arnauts; but as the prolonged discourse was carried on in Turkish, I did not understand it. A quantity of apples were produced, and some of them laid for an evidently conciliatory purpose beside the Governor. All at once, however, some misunderstanding occurred, and there arose a furious storm of apples: they were hurled in every direction, the Bey himself being the originator of the bombardment; and the scene closed as effectively as though there had been a display of fireworks. For myself, I was happily protected by my situation; but I could see all, and am ready, if need be, to vouch for my representation in the presence of the great Sultan himself. If any one is inclined to suspect that such a sight is incompatible with the dignity or indolence of Turks, I can only remind him that their enlarged intercourse with temperaments less sluggish than their own has broken down much of their composure; and that now just as little patience can be expected from an African Bey when he is irritated, as from an excited Bavarian corporal. Although these details may appear to have no direct connection with what concerns Central Africa, yet they are significant as exhibiting how completely, for all purposes of administration, every institution which is Turkish or Mohammedan remains fixed on its ancient basis. Though Suez were to become a second San Francisco, or however much it might concentrate upon itself the traffic of the world, scenes of judicial practice such as these would be sure to recur until the last Pasha or Bey had taken farewell of this mortal state.

Since my first visit five years ago, in January 1864, the population of Suez had increased threefold. The Abyssinian campaign alone had been the means of almost doubling the number of its inhabitants. A portion of the camp formed for the marching troops, and an immense depôt for trusses of hay, seeming well nigh like a large village in itself, were now the sole relics of that successful enterprise.

The fresh-water canal, which had now been completed for five years, had not effected any marked improvement upon the melancholy environs of the town, where desolation still reigned as ever; no gardens, no plantations, no verdure relieved the eye, which sought its refreshment from the blue sky and the azure sea. The hopeful expectations which were entertained from that canal seem by no means to have been realised. The deposit of any fertilising soil proceeded very slowly, and hitherto had made no change in the condition of vegetation at Suez, except just at the foot of the Mokkatan mountains, where the boulder flats, unimpregnated with salt, are traversed by a separate side branch of the main canal. Large fields of vegetables are cultivated here, and, without the aid of man, many varieties of desert plants contribute to the verdure. The tourist who loves to inscribe fresh acquisitions in his diary, may here without trouble find the far-famed “rose of Jericho,” which he would seek in vain around the suburbs of Cairo.

In order to reach Khartoom, I had chosen the sea-route by Suakin, so as to avoid the heat and fatigue of a journey through the great Nubian desert. This sea-route, by Suakin and Berber, is quicker and altogether less expensive than that by Assouan and Korosko; but it is not advisable for merchants who are travelling with any quantity of goods, on account of the heavy duties which are levied both at starting from Suez and at landing at Suakin.

[Sidenote: ON THE RED SEA.]

To save trouble and time I thought it would be best to proceed to Djidda, and there hire a sailing vessel to convey our party across to Suakin. To reach Djidda, I made choice of a little French packet which was going thither in preference to one of the Egyptian Azizieh steamers which ply between Suez and Massowa. These larger vessels do indeed touch both at Djidda and Suakin, but they are not suited for general travellers. The name of our little steamer was ‘Prince Mohammed Tawfik,’ (the heir-apparent to the throne of Egypt): it belonged to the “Compagnie Soufrière,” and was commissioned to supply the sulphur mines of Gimsah on the Egyptian coast with fresh water every fourteen days. Although it was in no way adapted for the conveyance of passengers, I was nevertheless quite comfortable on board. It was a vessel of only 300 tons burden, but by dividing the receptacle for conveying the Nile water into seven separate compartments, a great economy of space was effected, and a good hold reserved. The fact of the captain being a Dane, was a still farther recommendation.

It was a memorable morning, that 18th of August, on which the sailing vessel was prepared to leave the roadstead. Many a curious eye, in those early hours, was strained to witness the sun, as its disk rose darkened by the shadow of an eclipse. Above the flood of the Erythræan Sea appeared a golden sickle, its crescent light bearing resemblance to the moon. We were detained for yet two days in the roadstead; but at last we weighed anchor, and the little craft soon vanished from the midst of its more imposing neighbours, the great mail ships and men-of-war, which gave such a bright animation to the anchorage. A refreshing breeze from the north-east carried us across the gulf. Ever deepening violet shadows covered the shore, until the obscurity of night had completely hidden Mount St. Catherine and the Mount of Moses from our gaze. At dawn we were facing the grim shore of the sulphur mountain. Here we were greeted by the waving of the French tricolour, which, in the monotonous grey that mantled the whole land, afforded a bright resting-place for the weary eye.

According to a treaty made with the Egyptian Government, the Company are enabled to carry on their operations over 160 miles of coast, south from Cape Seit, where the Egyptian territory forms a promontory opposite the peninsula of Sinai. The coast line is similar in outline to the adjacent Gimsah, whilst, with the group of islands which lie off it, it forms the entrance of the Gulf of Suez. We now passed down the narrow channel which divides the group of islands from the mainland, and there lay before us the bluff of Gimsah, a steep mass of pure gypsum, white as chalk. This peak is about 200 feet above the level of the sea: it faces nearly south, its aspect is bare, and like all the mountains contiguous to the sea on these dreary and uninhabited coasts, it presents hardly the faintest trace of vegetation. Since July, 1867, the mines have been worked by a gang of labourers, of which twenty-six were Europeans and 300 were brought from Upper Egypt. For a time they were yielding a rich produce, which afforded the best hopes for the future; but now, like so much else in the country, have fallen into decay. The mutual intrigues and corruption of the contractors have yielded a fresh testimony on the one hand, to the continual ill-luck of the Government, which seems fated never to be able to improve the bounty of its natural resources; and on the other, to the ruthless avarice of foreigners, which is ever stopping the progress of the country. A tedious lawsuit has laid bare a whole series of scandals, discreditable alike to the directors and to the administrators of the Viceregal Government. The state of affairs, even in 1868, was melancholy enough. The Egyptian Government had contracted to supply work in the mines at a stipulated daily rate of payment. For the protection of the colony, as well as for the maintenance of discipline among the workmen, a guard of twenty-five soldiers was kept at Gimsah; this was rather a superfluity, since the Egyptian workmen, once taken into service, could not easily escape. They were hemmed in on one side by wide deserts, which could not be traversed in a day; and as for danger on the other from the Bedouins, none could be apprehended. A report about the Bedouins, which was current at Suez, could not fail to awaken my interest. The passengers of a mail steamer, which had lately foundered at the entrance of the Gulf, maintained that they had seen on the opposite mainland a body of wild men 200 strong, looking out for booty and for plunder. Assuredly by no exertions could the Bedouins collect such a force in the course of a few hours. Poor sons of the desert, I knew them better! An exhausted stomach, shrivelled up on their long wanderings till it is like an empty water-bottle, is the only voice in their naturally harmless character which could excite to violence. Give them a couple of handfuls of durra-corn, and you have made them the best of friends. Their desire for plunder is limited to the robbing of turtles’ nests, and the taking of eggs from the neighbouring islands.

[Sidenote: SULPHUR WORKS AT GIMSAH.]

Protected by numberless coral-reefs, the coasts of the Red Sea everywhere afford to small vessels the most comfortable harbours and anchorage. Here a short stone quay sufficed as a mole for moorage, and close behind was a grotto-like cistern in the rock, into which the water could be pumped by means of pipes connected with the reservoirs in the ship. On the narrow border of land between the foot of the rock and the sea, were erected huts of planks for the workmen, and barracks of stone for the officials of the Company. Such was the little piece of land on which the colony, composed of representatives of many a nation, prolonged its deplorable existence. Bounded in front by the dreary expanse of sea, which was rarely enlivened by a solitary sail, shut in behind by the sun-scorched gypsum, they were thus exposed to a double share of direct and reflected rays. The atmosphere in which they toiled was burdened with the stifling fumes of sulphur, and oppressed with the perpetual odour of burning petroleum; not alone the welfare, but the very existence of the colony, was dependent on the safe return of the steamer which provided them with food and drink. Whoever has lingered here can form some conception of the endurances of the poor beasts in our zoological gardens, which have been brought together from every zone, and caged in hopeless imprisonment. So monotonously and void of joy did the days of these wretched miners pass away; they led a life more gloomy than monastic, which might almost recall the first century of Christendom. Perhaps such a life belongs to the air, for it may be remembered that the renowned convents of St. Paul and St. Antony are distant but a few miles to the north-west; they are remnants of the oldest convents that are known, and to them, as often as a patriarch is required, does Egypt, according to ancient rule, ever turn to supply the vacancy.

[Sidenote: TROPICAL HEAT.]

In reality the colony of Gimsah, when approached from the sea, did present quite the appearance of a monastic settlement in the heart of a desert. Caverns were hewn in all directions, in order to work the veins of gypseous spar containing the sulphur, and amongst them lay a row of twelve hexagonal little houses, which were the kilns, built after the Sicilian fashion, and which might at first be mistaken for the cells of pious monks. To crown the denial and privation of this existence, the Company, under the pretext of maintaining discipline, order, and morality among the miners, had peremptorily banished all women from the sulphur coasts. This restriction was especially irritating to the French, and as a refinement of cruelty was as intolerable as those poisonous fumes of pitch and sulphur which were here set free from the bowels of the earth. Nevertheless it would seem to have answered well, for young and old, Arab and European, went through their work with a diligence such as is rarely to be observed in other tropical regions. Only when the sun’s heat after midday was most insupportable, was there a cessation of labour. At 12 o’clock, when the _employé_ of the Suez Canal, in his period of repose, sauntered into the coffee-house to take an ice or to enjoy a game at billiards, the untiring director began his daily circuit of inspection; and seldom has a quotation seemed to me more apt than that in which he said that the hour was come in which he must surrender himself to the sulphurous and torturing flames.

After staying twenty-four hours in the harbour at Gimsah, the ‘Prince Mohammed Tawfik’ continued its voyage to Djidda, where it arrived on the fourth day. At that season, when no pilgrims were coming or going, we found the harbour all but deserted; only one French and two Egyptian men-of-war were in the security of the roadstead. I easily obtained an open Arab boat, which I hoped, under favourable gales, should convey me to Suakin.

On account of the prevalence of north-winds through the greater part of the year, navigation in the Red Sea is nearly always as easy in this direction as it is difficult in the contrary. This accounts for European sailing vessels so rarely reaching Suez; they proceed only as far as Djidda, and that only when coming from India or at the time of the pilgrimage.

I had to spend two hot days on board while my baggage was disembarked. Whoever has been to India knows well enough what is the furnace temperature of the Red Sea, and how, south of the tropic of Cancer, it becomes insufferable. The thermometer stood at midday at about 95° Fahrenheit, and the air was like a vapour-bath. The sea water, a few degrees cooler, afforded us, nevertheless, some refreshment, and we did our utmost to enjoy it at all hours of the day. Still there was something very enervating and depressing about this amphibious life. Had the heat and sun-glare been less overpowering, we might have truly enjoyed the splashing and sport in the bright green floods which spread over the shallows where coral banks ranged themselves below, and where the eye could detect a thousand marvels. Like terraces filled with the choicest plants, the sloping beds of coral descended with variegated festoons into the purple shades of the deep; strange forms were witnessed in these living groves, and conspicuous among others was the “bride of the fish,” which is celebrated in the Arabian fishing-song, “O bride, lovely bride of the fish, come to me.” Ever and anon on my voyage, which was to me as an Odyssey, did I delight to catch fragments of this song, as it was dreamily hummed by the man at the stern during the hot midday hour when the crew had sunk into slumber, and while, noiselessly and spirit-like, our vessel glided through the emerald floods. The enchantment, as of a fairy tale, of these waters with their myriad living forms of every tint and shape, defies all power of description.

Without entering the town, I lost no time in putting off to sea in my little Arab craft. At first we made little headway, but after noon a fresh breeze came from the north-east, which continued all night, so that by the following morning, after a voyage of nearly 100 miles in twenty hours, we slackened sail under the mountains which I had previously visited, in lat. 21° N. The Nubian coast was almost close in front of us. A very primitive kind of compass enabled us to steer to this goal. I was glad to find that no water had reached my baggage, for in the heavy sea the boat had rolled and pitched considerably. We ran along the coast, and each familiar scene revived in me pleasant memories of my former journey, which had been unmarred by a single trouble. Close in view was Cape Roway, where the formation of a lagoon had developed natural salt-works, from which is obtained the salt for the consumption at Djidda, and for export to India. The salt, however, is only secured during the eight hottest months of the year, when the Red Sea is reduced to its lowest level, two or three feet below its altitude in the winter. The only explanation of this phenomenon seems to be the prevalent direction of the wind taken in connection with the position of the water. The bearings of the sea are such that the wind drives the waves with full force towards the Straits of Mandeb, the narrowness of which retards the outflow of the water and produces an immense evaporation.

[Sidenote: SUBMARINE MEADOW.]

The flat shore between the mountains and the sea with its coral reefs was hidden from our view. A green carpet of samphire covered the coast for miles along the land. This botanically may be represented as coming under the genus Suæda, the name of which is imitated from the Arab “sued,” the original of our “soda.” This plant has long been turned to a profitable account, and to this day Arab boats may be seen about the coast, engaged in the procuring and preserving of it.

Rising directly out of the water close to the shore grow in patches great clusters of Avicennia, so abundant in tropical seas, the beautiful laurel-leaf of which forms a dazzling contrast to the bare brown of the mainland.

Over considerable tracts at the depth of thirty feet the sea bottom resembles a submarine meadow, rich with every species of sea-grass: in these, turtles and dujongs, which are so numerous in this part of the Red Sea, find their pasture land. It must be a very protracted business for these cumbrous creatures to get their sustenance, bit by bit, from these tender leaflets; but they have time enough and nothing else to do.

The little islets in the height of summer are the resort of flocks of water-birds who go there to breed undisturbed. On one of these, in July 1864, we collected over 2000 eggs of the tern, although the dry area above the strand consisted of scarcely so many square feet. At the approach of night the wind failed us, and with fluttering sails we drifted into sight of a place called Durroor. Two antique Turkish guard-houses of small dimensions gleamed with their white walls far across the sea. They are not unlike the rough-walled watch-towers of our fortresses, and are said to have been built by Selim II. when Yemen was subdued; they are the scanty remains of a past which continues to the present, isolated memorials of a barren, inhospitable coast, where all is changeless as the rolling waves.

I shall not easily forget the nights which I passed becalmed upon that sea. Sleep there could be none. Drenched in perspiration, one could only sit by his lamp and indulge the hope that the breeze at daybreak might be somewhat cooler. Air and sea combined to form an interminable mass of vapour through which the moon could only penetrate with a lurid silvery gleam. One bright strip alone cleaves itself a way over the silent waves; it stretches towards an aperture in the horizon, which would seem to be the origin of all the brightness: but all is full of strange illusion, for the moon is here above our heads. The boat floats as though it were an aërial vessel in a globe of vapour; the depth of the sea, illumined by the vertical beams of the moon, is like another sky beneath us, and hosts of mysterious beings, diversified in colour and confused in form, are moving underneath our feet. The calmness of the air and the unbroken stillness of this spectral nature increased the magic of these moonlight nights.

Late in the evening of the third day we ran into the harbour of Suakin. This town, formerly held directly subject to the Turkish power, had three years since, together with Massowa and the adjacent coast, been surrendered to the Viceroy of Egypt. In that short time it had remarkably improved. Formed by nature to serve as a harbour for the Egyptian Soudan, and even for Abyssinia, the place, as long as its administration came from Arabia and Constantinople, could inevitably never rise, and even now its prosperity is only comparative. The Egyptian Government still obstructs all traffic by the heavy duties which it levies even on the natural intercourse with Suez; it is desirous of transferring its interests as a centre to Massowa, watching continually with attentive eyes the ungoverned condition of Abyssinia. Since the traffic on the Nile by way of Berber ever continues in uninterrupted activity, and this place lies but 200 miles from Suakin, whilst the distance between Massowa and Khartoom is twice as far, why any preference should be given to Massowa is altogether incomprehensible.

[Sidenote: SUAKIN.]

I was now visiting Suakin for the fourth time, and the Governor received me very graciously as an old acquaintance. He sent immediately for some camels, which I required for the continuation of my journey. He himself had to leave the town on the following day to visit his summer abode in the neighbouring mountains. There still remained to me four months before commencing my real journey from Khartoom, as the voyage up the White Nile could not begin until December or January; I resolved to fill up the interval by a tour through the mountains of South Nubia, for the purpose of accustoming myself to the heat and fatigue of a harmless climate, before exposing myself to the fever atmosphere of Khartoom and the Upper Nile districts. Just at this time of year, too, the valleys between the Red Sea and the Nile promised me a rich booty, and I hoped to obtain a remuneration for any toil on my part by the botanical varieties which were to be looked for on the elevated ridges. I could not do otherwise than rejoice in the prospect of escape from the glowing oven of Suakin towards the western horizon, where the mountain-chains, veiled in grey vapour, betrayed the refreshing rains which favoured the district and rendered it so preferable for my sojourn. At night was heard the roll of distant thunder, and the darkness was broken at intervals by flashes of lightning.

On the 10th of September at daybreak all was ready. After the lapse of two years passed in the domestic comforts of Europe, it is not altogether easy to remount the “ship of the desert.” Our first day’s march was through a trying country. The plain indeed was uniformly level, but for twelve miles it was covered with such huge black boulders glowing with the heat, that progress was very difficult. After we had proceeded about nine miles from the town, we made a short midday halt under the miserable shade of some dry acacias, which were like the uncovered skeletons of parasols. As if in despair they stretched their leafless branches towards the sky, and seemed to implore for water. Exposed here in a leathern pipe to the wind, our drinking water soon cooled down to a temperature about 18° below the surrounding atmosphere.

The coast plains, although practically level, evidently slope very gradually down to the sea, for after a few hours’ march the town is seen like a white spot far below. Beyond is the expanse of sea, which melts into the horizon. The coast-ridges are on an average from 3000 to 4000 feet high, but occasionally single peaks may rise to an altitude of 5000 feet. At one time they appear like a lofty wall, rising abruptly from the slanting plane; at another like separate piles of rock picturesquely grouped behind and over one another. Our route awhile across the narrow promontory now lay along the enclosure of a valley bounded by sloping walls of granite. After twelve hours’ perseverance, on the afternoon of the following day we reached the first mountain pass, about 3000 feet above the level of the sea.

[Sidenote: NIGHT ON THE MOUNTAINS.]

Infinitely refreshing was it to ascend at every step higher into the mountain atmosphere, and to be raised above the vapourous heat of the suffocating shore. There seemed a requickening energy in every breath of air, as gratefully it circulated on the heights. The real charm of such a change could not be appreciated more than on the first night of camping-out. Comfortably stretched upon the clean smooth stones which form the valley, the weary limbs could find repose; through the silent night the stars shed a bright and kind encouragement; there was an aromatic odour floating refreshingly around, for, impregnated with camphor, mint, and thyme, the air was laden with scents which the stores of the perfumer could not rival, and such as no quarter of the globe could surpass. The plants which exhale the welcome aroma are little obscure mountain weeds, amongst which a “pulicaria” plays an essential part. Noiselessly and like spectres glided the camels on their soft feet through the valley, rejoicing in the pasture, sweet and luscious after the scanty herbage of the shore, where for them all was dearth and salt and bitterness.

Solemnity reigned throughout nature; no discordant cry of mountain bird, no howling beast of prey, disturbed the traveller: there was only the delicate song of the desert cricket to lull him into peaceful slumber.

The mountains between Suakin and Singat afford a habitat for such numbers of remarkable plants that they appear for their variety alone well worth a visit. The most striking forms which arrest the attention of the uninitiated are the Dracænæ and Euphorbiæ, remarkable as both are for their fantastic shapes. They flourish on the loftiest heights, but are found 2000 feet below, towards the valleys. The first belong to those types of vegetation which (as though they had been carried in the air and dropped from another world) are limited to extremely narrow sections of the earth. The first dragon-trees (_dracænæ_) which were observed in the African continent, are those which are to be found on these mountains alone, and even here only over an area of a few square miles.[3] The Nubian dracænæ, being only from 15 to 20 feet in height, are dwarfish in comparison with their famous sister of Orotava in Teneriffe, but in other respects there are only minute and subtle distinctions between them and those which are found in the Canary Isles. In the language of the native nomad tribes of the Hadendoa and Bishareen, the dracæna is known as “To-Omba” or “T’Ombet.” The leaves afford bast for cords, the long flower stalks serve in June as excellent food for camels, whilst for goats they are almost poison.[4]

Another remarkable feature of this mountain-district is the large number of succulent plants, the fantastic forms of which here appropriately adorn the craggy walls of the valley, and supply a needed decoration to the more barren rocks of Southern Nubia.

In Abyssinia itself neither euphorbiæ nor aloes are ever found at an altitude of less than 4000 feet. Here, beside the giant Kolkwal, they are found much lower towards the valley. Four smaller kinds of the same species, as well as some remarkable Stapeliæ (which resemble the cactus type of the euphorbiæ), flourish to the very summit of the mountains. Found in company with them is a wild unearthly-looking plant called the Caraïb (_Bucerosia_), of which the branches are like wings, prickly and jagged round the edges like a dragon’s back. They produce clusters of brown flowers as large as one’s fist, which exhale a noxious and revolting smell, the plants themselves being swollen with a white and slimy poisonous juice.

[Sidenote: THE LASSAV.]

No space may be found to enumerate all the varieties, but I must mention the Seyleb (_Sanseviera_), whose fleshy tender leaves provided the Nubian nomad with the ordinary material for the cords with which he binds their burdens on his camels. These leaves in shape are not unlike the Nile whips, and on that account may readily recall and stir up painful memories to the poor Nubian of the kurbatch of the Turks, whenever he may chance to see them. So richly burdened are the hanging rocks with the varieties of rarest plants; so large and multiform is the exhibition of scarce and novel succulents—that the greatest enthusiast could hardly fail to be bewildered. As a most interesting development of structural peculiarity, the Lassav, one of the Capparids, demands some notice. It produces flowers which take a form quite unique. A drawing taken from nature shows the strange deformity of the petals, a double cluster of which is attached to the one broad sepal, so as to produce the effect of two handkerchiefs in one pocket.

This rich covering of vegetation is, however, confined to the side of the mountains towards the sea; on the other side, as soon as the second pass is left behind, the rocks are bare, and only the lowest part of the valley is covered with anything of luxuriant verdure. Acacias, growing so closely as almost to form a hedge, and gigantic clumps of the grass-green Salvadora, shoot up like great dishes of green salad from the cheerless space around. The moistening vapour of the sea does not reach here to clothe the parched and naked rock. Such were the valleys through which on the morning of the third day we passed on to complete the first stage of our wanderings. Towards midday, after marching for nineteen hours, we had reached Singat, the summer retreat of the town Bedouins of Suakin.

The valley of Singat is about a league in breadth. It is enclosed by two lofty mountain chains running parallel to the coast, apparently joined by a number of projecting spurs. On the broad sandy bed of the valley were erected scarcely less than 500 of those Bedouin tents, of which the shape, in their drooping folds, may be compared to what we see in the breast of a roasted fowl. Here, at least a quarter of the population of the town, which reckons 3000 souls, passes the season of refreshing rains. Later, when the mountain valleys are again dry and destitute of pasture, these transient habitations are carried back again; and the camels and goats must find their pasturage on the slopes in the vicinity of the town, which are exposed to the action of the damp sea air.

Here, at his usual resort, I met Muntass Bey, the Governor of Suakin. His residence consisted of a Sammor-acacia, with foliage wide-spreading like a parasol. Under the shadow of this commodious and airy roof, common to all, was served the midday meal. Some tents in the immediate proximity were provided as places of refuge from the rain. A storm of unusual violence broke over us in the course of the day, and changed the centre of the valley into a foaming torrent, 200 paces wide, for three hours; the flood rushed onwards with unabated strength and sought the sea. I found shelter in a guard-room built of blocks of stone and clay, the quarters of the garrison of 200 Bazibozuks. After the rain the temperature was lowered to a refreshing coolness, and on the following morning I rejoiced to register a temperature of 68° F.

[Sidenote: SUMMER RETREATS.]

Whilst I stayed in Singat, I always at dinner-time found an open table beneath the Governor’s great tree. This was rendered enjoyable not more by the skill of the cook than by the harmony of the Egyptian singers, whom the Bey had in his suite. The camels, which I had hired in Suakin, were meanwhile sent away to the pastures in the neighbouring valleys, to be recruited against their approaching fatigues. The camel drivers were by no means in a hurry to start, as time was not of the smallest value to them. A trip of five days in the lofty mountains of Erkoweet, eight or ten leagues to the south-east of Singat, unclosed to my researches the vegetable treasures of this most northerly spur of the Abyssinian highland, hitherto unexplored; and was full of enjoyment, equally beneficial both to mind and body.

Erkoweet is another summer retreat for the people of Suakin. The valley in which the tents are pitched is called Harrasa, and discloses the whole flora of the Abyssinian highland in wonderful and complete luxuriance. Euphorbiæ and dracænæ deck the mountains in masses which might almost be reckoned by millions, so that the slopes in the distance have the appearance of being covered with huge black patches. From amongst innumerable projections of granite, mostly dome-shaped and adorned with charming foliage, there juts forth one huge slanting mass of mountain, which is probably the highest elevation of the district of Suakin, if not of the entire chain which runs along the coast. I ascended this peak nearly 6000 feet in altitude, and was amply repaid for the exertion by the magnificent prospect before me. There was extreme enjoyment in the freshness of the air. The whole contour of the coast lay stretched in clear and perfect outline. The whole confused system of the mountains of the coast lay like a map below my feet. In a circumference of seventy miles I plainly recognised single masses, so that the peaks known to me in my earlier visits served as landmarks to inform me of my true position.

As the result of several favourable meteorological combinations, there exists in these loftier elevations a more luxuriant development of vegetation than in any of the neighbouring mountain districts of South Nubia, which have a lower altitude. This is illustrated very plainly by the clusters of beard-moss (_Usnea_) which hang on every twig and branch, by the abundance of sulphur-coloured lichens on every mass of rock, and likewise by the formation of numerous luxuriant beds of moss. Mosses are generally deficient alike in Egypt proper and in Nubia, and are scarcely seen in the trenches and clefts of the Nile valley; their existence is dependent on a minimum of moisture throughout the year, which is there but rarely reached.

At Erkoweet I found again the wild olive tree, which I had already discovered some years previously on the mountains by the Elbe. I noticed that it assumes the same low bushy shape here, and bears the same box-like foliage, as it does on the coast ridges of the Mediterranean; when the two are compared they exhibit a general identity, so that I conclude the African and European are of the same family. The olive tree, it is well known, is reckoned, like the fig tree, as originally a product of the frontiers of Asia; in remote antiquity, it was reverenced by Semitic nations, and cultivated until it bore a rich produce. This type of vegetation fails completely in the interior of the continent. In the time of Homer the olive grew wild on the islands of the Grecian Archipelago, and it is still to be met with, though in an altered condition, on the coasts of Syria; but here on the Red Sea it has remained unchanged for thousands of years, and the famous classical tree of myth and song is still undisturbed in the dreams of its youth.

[Sidenote: WATER-COURSES.]

A bare boulder-flat of black hornblende stones, extending several miles, divides the mountains of Erkoweet from those which bound the valley of Singat on the east. The broad water-courses which run between, show what must be the prodigious volume and violence of the currents which occasionally rush downwards to the sea. These deep water-courses are, however, only periodically filled, and then only for a few hours, in the course of the year, so that for some months they are adapted for the cultivation of corn. Notwithstanding, there was here but a very limited cultivation of sorghum, the Arabian durra, since there is a difficulty in securing labour. The idle nomads have no disposition for agricultural employment, although famine in dry seasons, when the flocks can nowhere find sufficient pasture, brings back its recurring calamity. In the year before my last visit, in the valleys about Singat alone, seventy men had died literally of hunger, after vainly endeavouring for weeks to subsist upon wild purslane.