Chapter XI

February the 6th was a market-day in Zegi. In the morning we mounted our mules and went to visit St. George’s Church. Hyli was studying in the theological school attached to this round, thatched place of worship, which resembled in all respects the others that we had seen in the country. When the Chief Priest had received a suitable offering, our Abyssinian friend took us to his house, and here, for courtesy’s sake, we were obliged to drink _tedj_—a vile, bitter draught. We had escaped it on other occasions. The composition of it has been mentioned elsewhere. Hyli was very anxious that we should stay and eat a meal with him—doubtless it would have consisted chiefly of raw meat smothered with red pepper and sour _teff_ bread—but we managed to excuse ourselves from this ordeal. On our way back to camp we passed through the market-place, which was now thronged. I do not know whether any European had been seen there before; but in any case we were objects of the utmost curiosity, and the people pressed around us so thickly that we had a difficulty in making our way through them.

In the afternoon I returned to the market for the purpose of obtaining snap-shots. It is held on the top of a stretch of rising ground, under the shadow of some half a dozen big trees. Under each tree was a large stone. On market-days a priest from each of the different churches stands on the stone allotted to his parish. These men are striking figures, clad in their ecclesiastical vesture, of which a large white turban and a shama with a broad red border are the conspicuous features. The parishioners from the different districts squat around their pastor near the stone, and the priest takes tithe in kind upon the spot when any member of his flock completes a purchase or a sale. Our people bought some grain and two sheep. The ruling prices were: for an ox (without the hide), seven shillings; for a sheep, two shillings.

_See p._ 162.]

In one of the photographs which I obtained, the curious plaits in which the married women wear their hair are clearly shown. Stern thus describes the manner in which the _coiffure_ is preserved from disarrangement at night. “The woman whose hair has undergone the tedious process of plaiting, must also have it protected from becoming dishevelled while she sleeps; and as this cannot so easily be done in a country where a bullock’s hide or a mat forms the bed, necessity has contrived a bowl-shaped stool, in which the neck is wedged. . . . In Abyssinia, where the women are particularly proud of their copper-coloured charms, very few, even on a journey and with fifty pounds weight on their backs, will forget to take the wooden pillow and the hollow grease-filled gourd,” from the contents of which the hair is “dressed.”[100]

I purchased a leopard’s skin in the market for a dollar, but it was not a good specimen. During the afternoon I received a visit from another Abyssinian artist, who presented me with two pictures in return for a black lead-pencil and a part of a blue one. And I had a constant stream of patients, who claimed attention very freely. I am bound to say that the maladies from which the majority of them suffered fully justified the allegation of Dr. Stecker, to which I have already referred.

The letter from the Ras to the Fituari’s son was delivered early in the morning. In the evening we heard that no sooner had he received it than he disappeared, and nobody seemed to know his whereabouts. No doubt it was his intention to declare afterwards that he had not been in the village when we arrived. If his conduct came to the Ras’s knowledge, I have little doubt the vainglorious youth was flogged—this has been the penalty inflicted on other Habashes who have shown rudeness to travellers provided with the King’s safe-conduct letter.

Our tents at Zegi were in a pleasant position, under a spreading fig tree; these trees are found throughout Abyssinia and in the “rain country,” and give abundant shade. I have never seen them growing thickly, in a clump.

We made an early start on the morning of February the 7th, and trotted ahead at a good speed, as the donkeys were very fresh after their rest. The country is similar to that which we traversed in approaching Zegi. At eleven o’clock we reached the bank of the Abai. At the ford where we were to cross, it is a broad river, more than a hundred yards in width, as I should judge. The water was running in a fairly rapid current, and I was told that the stream is perennial. The banks of the river are steep, and the bed is stony. The water, at that season of the year, was almost clear. But during the rains, when the stream is in flood, it brings down vast quantities of the deposits of the white ants and other detritus. The flat island of Dek has been formed by siltage of alluvial soil thus brought, and it is matter in solution which renders the course of the Abai traceable in Lake Tsana.

At the ford we found that the water came just above a man’s knee. The crossing gave us little trouble, and there was no serious mishap. The larger loads and our valises—of the “Wolseley” pattern—were wetted, but the sun soon dried them. One donkey collapsed, and fell with his burden into the stream about two yards from the further bank; but there were many to help, and he was soon put on his feet again. He was not carrying anything which would be ruined by a soaking. The rise beyond the ford was steep, and the drippings from the wet animals made it slippery, so we had to throw earth on it to give them a foothold, as in crossing the Gelda.

After passing the Abai, we entered a flat district full of the long dry grass, of which we had seen so much on the north side of the lake. The country hereabouts is full of the kind of gazelle called _oribi_. We had not elsewhere in Abyssinia found these creatures in herds. Game birds abound in this region, which appeared to be almost deserted. We passed scarcely any villages, and those which we saw consisted of only five or six huts.

Our camping-ground was an open space not far from a papyrus swamp. We should not have selected this spot by choice, as the proximity of marshy soil was a danger to health. But we were obliged to halt there because no water was to be had for a considerable distance on the road ahead. All around were ruins of houses built of stone, with thatched roofs that had fallen in. The number of them showed that a town or a large village must have existed here at one time. Stone dwellings are not usual in this region, and I inquired what the name of the place was and tried to learn its history, but could get no information.

Dupuis and Crawley went out with their rifles, and added three oribis to the store in the larder. I stayed in camp “on duty,” and after treating a patient sat reading outside my tent. My servant rushed up to me, and said that I was wanted to shoot a snake that had crept under some brushwood. I hastened to unpack my gun and ran after the boy, and soon came to where our men, in a state of great excitement, had formed a cordon round a patch of dry grass, to which they had set fire. Finally the snake came out, and all our fellows shouted at it. They were in mortal terror of it, as a fact, and certainly it looked “an ugly customer.” It was too big to be stopped by shot unless I could make sure of hitting it in the head, and this I was not able to manage before it crawled under a saddle belonging to one of the soldiers. The saddle was lifted by the aid of a long pole, and in a moment the snake’s head was smashed by the same means. I measured it, and found that it was just over two yards in length. The back was brown and the belly white, and the skull had the typical shape of the adder family. Generally speaking, we saw fewer reptiles in Abyssinia than we had expected.

After this incident, I strolled round the camp with my gun, and presently noticed a little grey animal scampering among the stones of a ruined house. It was of the same colour exactly as the stones, but presently I believed I could discern an eye, and, being anxious to ascertain what creature it was, took aim and fired. I walked up to the spot but found nothing, looked around and wondered how the animal could have vanished. At the moment I heard the rustling of a leaf beyond the tumbledown wall on the left, and, guided by the sound, discovered the animal just dead. It was a specimen of the hyrax—an interesting creature to biologists, which Huxley described as “the type of a distinct order, in many respects intermediate between the _Ungulata_, on the one hand, and _Rodentia_ and _Insectivora_ on the other.”[101] It is found only in Syria and Africa. I thought the skin worth preserving, and one of the soldiers flayed it for me.

On Sunday, February 8, our road lay, for the most part, at some little distance from the lake, which was out of sight till the end of the journey. We plodded on through long grass and past burnt patches. The track is only about a foot wide, and in consequence the loads of the donkeys extended beyond it on either side. When they were among the tall growth they had to sweep it aside from their burden as they went, and this tired them greatly.

We reached the edge of the lake at two o’clock, after an unbroken journey of six and a half hours, and pitched our camp. About two hundred yards from the shore five hippos were standing, well clear of the water. They looked for all the world like rocks, even when we brought field-glasses to bear on them. After lunch Crawley had the Berthon boat put together, and I rowed him towards the hippos. When we were within a hundred yards of them, I considered that the range was quite short enough to give the marksman an opportunity of displaying his skill, and he got no nearer. He began practice at once, but the boat was pitching rather sharply, and this made aiming with the rifle almost chance-work. Presently the sport became like firing at disappearing targets, for the hippos rose only once in two or three minutes to breathe. If they had taken my friend seriously, we should probably not have left Lake Tsana, and I felt relieved when he had had enough of the pastime and we rowed ashore.

Various small offerings of milk and bread reached us from the hamlets around. The milk is always sour. The Habashes do not drink it when it is fresh, and as a consequence they never wash the gourds in which they keep it, because it “turns” sooner in a dirty receptacle. At a few places we were able to have the cows brought into camp, and stored the milk in our own vessels, but this was impossible when we only remained one night on a camping-ground.

That evening Johannes, the interpreter, had a touch of fever. On the previous night his tent had been close to the papyrus swamp, and this, no doubt, accounted for the attack.

On the following day, February 9, our road lay through more broken country and more pleasing scenery. The track led us up hills, and down them, and between them, and sometimes close beside the lake. I saw no trees in this region but mimosas; the ground was covered in places by mimosa scrub, in others by dry grass. We made a march of seventeen miles, as we reckoned, a longer distance than we had travelled on the previous day. The donkeys were tired out at the end of the journey. Some stood still and refused to move, others lay down under their burdens in the path. We camped on the shore of the lake, at a spot very similar to that which we had chosen for our last halting-place.

The interpreter’s fever had yielded considerably to the usual quinine treatment, and he seemed very little the worse for his long ride in the heat.

In the evening the wind rose and presently blew hard enough to make me wonder whether my tent would collapse or not. I observed that very soon enough wash was knocked up in the deeper water to stop the headway of a rowing-boat. The lake would be a perfect place for fishing and sailing in the dry season. But without experience and watchfulness, risks would arise—quite apart from the humours of the hippopotami.[102]

On Tuesday, February 10, after a journey of about twelve miles through tall grass that impeded our baggage-train, we reached the village of Delgi, and pitched our camp upon the same ground which we had chosen for our first halting-place beside the lake. To the best of my belief, we were the only Europeans who had ever completed the circuit of this lovely reservoir of the Nile—the distance in all is one hundred and sixty to one hundred and seventy miles. Those who love regions beyond the outposts of our civilization, where the tourist ceases from troubling, could not seek isolation amid sweeter surroundings than this sunlit lake, these tropical mountains, and the quaint, quiet hamlets of a primitive people, who as yet, thank Heaven, have not been infected with “Yankee hustle.”

The level of the surface of the water had sunk perceptibly since we were here a month ago, and many rocks were now visible which had then been covered. But I do not think the variation between the maximum height in the rainy season and the minimum in the dry is very great; I doubt if it exceeds eight or ten feet.

At midday we noticed that the climate into which we had come in the north-west corner of the lake was distinctly warmer than that of the other parts. We remembered the Soudan, towards which our faces were set, and knew that in the heat there we should think longingly of the waterside, in spite of all the worries inseparable from travelling in Abyssinia.

The “Sultan” of Delgi came to camp to welcome us as soon as he heard of our arrival. It was pleasant to meet this cheery, genial old Habash again, and his visit put us in good spirits. He brought us a couple of chickens and some bread, and we showed our hospitality by offering him chartreuse. He drank half a pint at a draught without “turning a hair,” seemed none the worse for it, and wanted more. A man who remains sober after that performance must have a sound head and a strong body, but I do not recommend even the hardiest of my readers to attempt the feat. The Abyssinians who survive have inured their stomachs to excesses of abstinence from food as well as gluttonous excesses, an unwholesome and repulsive diet and the abuse of condiments, and they have constitutions _à toute épreuve_. I may mention that the children, who would be the first to suffer from bad climatic conditions, and the women seemed, as a body, fairly healthy, though they eat raw flesh like the men and suffer from the consequent parasitical trouble.

Nothing was mentioned or seen of the “Deputy” who had tried to prevent us from reaching the lake. But we made kindly inquiry for the “Sultan’s” wife, who had shown us goodwill and sent us bread and _tedj_ on our first arrival, and were glad to hear that the lady was in good health. At nightfall we saw that the grass was blazing in two places, and it was interesting to observe with what extraordinary swiftness the flames ran over the ground when the breeze from the lake fanned them.

_See p._ 170.]

_See p._ 170.]

We had determined to show our liking for the “Sultan” by treating him handsomely when we gave the customary presents. He came into camp next day (February 11) as soon as we had finished breakfast, and we arranged the gifts on the table. They were a revolver, a folding-chair, a bottle of chartreuse, and a red silk cummerbund for his consort. He appeared to be well pleased and thanked us, through Johannes, with all the formalities of the country. We suggested that he should come for a row in the Berthon boat, but he backed out of this immediately. Then he had his new folding-chair carried to the shore, and sat there surrounded by his bodyguard, a force which would have had a great success in a pantomime. He followed our movements with much interest while we put the boat together, but he was plainly apprehensive when Crawley tested in still water the electric current-meter which he had used in calculating the outflow from the lake into the Blue Nile. It made a buzzing noise, and I think he suspected that it might “go off” at any moment. He remarked that it was _a watch_ for the water, but he soon retired, followed by his comedians under arms.

Everything in camp that could be cleaned in water was washed in the lake during the day, and the ground near our tents looked like an improvised laundry. It was strewn in all directions with articles spread out to dry. Those boys who had no change of garments, stayed in the water while their clothes were aired in the sunshine, and enjoyed it.

Both Christians and Mussulmans received an ox on this day in order that they might make biltong for the journey. We bought flour and grain and sheep and fowls, and laid in as large a stock of provisions as we could carry for use in the uninhabited borderland between Delgi and Gallabat.

February 12 was our last day beside Lake Tsana, and the prospect of leaving it filled me with regret. The “Sultan” came into camp again, and in answer to one or two questions gave us the following information: that the rainfall on the margin of the lake in the wet season is not great; the heavy rains descend upon the heights around, and the floods are carried down the rivers and khors in overwhelming torrents, so that all the watercourses are then impassable. This circumstance, of course, has a very important bearing on the possibility of a commercial development of the region.

Before quitting the subject, I will bring to the reader’s notice Dr. Stecker’s thoughtful conclusions as to the present relation of the River Abai to Lake Tsana:—

“I made another extremely interesting discovery in the Gorgora mountains, viz. of a remarkable shell, which by its character reminds one of the oyster.[103] We found both the shells and the living creatures in abundance on the shore. With lemon juice they taste like genuine oysters. But it is remarkable that I had already found this species in the Blue Nile, and that I found it later on the island of Dek, enclosed in unmistakable volcanic rock (tuff). I can only offer this explanation, that, at a time when Lake Tsana already existed, a great eruption took place in the south. According to my view the lake had its origin in tertiary times as a consequence of a great volcanic movement in the north (at the Gorgora range). The Abai, which was previously an unimportant stream, and described the great curve which is indicated on my map by arrows, and now carries it round Dek and Dega, was forced in consequence to the south-western and southern shores, though its original course can still be traced quite distinctly. The second volcanic movement took place, according to my opinion, in the south, and the islands of Dek[104] and Dega in Lake Tsana owe their origin to it, as do a whole series of islands beside the eastern shore of the lake and the masses of rock of volcanic origin which encumber the course of the Blue Nile and lie scattered in the whole valley of that river.”[105]

The moon was full that night, and the lake and the mountains formed a glorious scene, which left in the mind a longing to behold it again. Lake Tsana has that haunting, attractive power which some places possess, and which prompts one to return to them in spite of all that commonsense says about obstacles and discomfort.

On February 13 we made an early start upon our return journey to the Soudan, and reached the top of the plateau at half-past ten. We saw nothing, after all, of Hyli’s men; I did not hear why they failed to join us. As we now retraced our steps over the same ground that we had traversed on the way to the lake, I shall not give any detailed account of our progress. In one day’s journey we covered a distance which had given us an arduous two days’ climb on the upward march, and we came again into the region of the Soudanese heat. The sequence of vegetation according to altitude was strikingly apparent during the descent. Throughout the first half of it we were in the cactus country, then in the bamboo zone, and, finally, among the mimosas and desert scrub. The heat proved trying to man and beast. We Europeans felt fagged and dull; I had three fever patients among our followers in the evening; and the donkeys straggled into camp jaded and spent.

An incident of the journey will show the nature of the road. A little while after we had passed the long and narrow gorge which has already been described, I caught sight of my valise and some other luggage stacked on a bank. Upon asking why it was there, I found that the donkey which had carried the load had slipped from the path and had fallen and rolled about ninety or a hundred feet. The beast seemed none the worse for the adventure, and the boys were bringing up the baggage piecemeal from the ledge which had stopped the donkey. I have no doubt that its burden saved it; a rider might have performed the same service if his remains had kept in place. A mirror and a candle-globe which “accomplished the descent” were not injured.

In spite of the steepness and roughness of the path—the mountains are genuine _sierras_ (saws)—I believe that no great trouble and expense would be needed to make this approach to Western Abyssinia easy and safe, but it would be impossible for camels.

On the following day we reached the banks of the River Gerar, on which there is a thick growth of bamboos. Many of these had fallen across the track. We were not so much impeded by them as we should have been but for our previous experience of this part of the road. We sent men ahead with axes to clear the path as well as they could. In the evening we lost one of our baggage animals for the first time; two donkeys fell on the road exhausted. We left them while we moved on into camp, in the hope that they would recover. One was brought in later, but the other was found to be in such a helpless and pitiable state that nothing remained but to put it out of its misery, and it was shot. Our camp was beside the hot springs which have already been mentioned. We found in the neighbouring huts apparently the same company that we had seen on the upward journey. I was not able to learn anything about the people.

On the following day we left the valley of the Gerar, crossed a high ridge, and then followed the course of the Shemal Warhar. When we reached the place where we had pitched our camp before, we found the trees charred and the ground blackened by fire. There was no shade, and the water in the pools was very low. So we marched about three miles to another camping-ground called Ananta. Here water and shade were plentiful.

On February 16 we reached the bank of the Gundar Warhar. From midday till three o’clock the thermometer showed a temperature of 98° F. We had now entered the region in which robber bands are active. On the 17th we passed two parties of traders and heard from them our first news of the world outside Abyssinia. This was that Slatin Pasha had arrived at Gallabat on a tour of inspection. We thought of Gallabat—by contrast—as a centre of civilization. Our halting-place was a pleasant, shady spot beside the river-bed, in which water was abundant. In the afternoon Crawley shot a water-buck. I secured a much smaller prize in the form of another civet-cat. We heard that a large crocodile had been seen in a pool about two hundred yards from camp, but saw nothing of the beast. At night we were much plagued by mosquitoes and the beetles which swarm on one and do not bite, but are malodorous in death—a most perplexing pest.

On the 18th the temperature rose to 101° F. in the shade. We made a short march, but one of our donkeys succumbed and had to be left for the vultures. We found that the grass about our former camping-ground had been trodden down and a part of it burned. The water, too, was much lower in the pools, the dry season being now far advanced, though it was still abundant to meet all the requirements likely to arise in that country before the rains. At this time of the year the trees cast their leaves, so that there is much less shade along the track. On the 19th we reached the “warsha,” which is the first from Gallabat on the road to Abyssinia and the last on the return journey. The ground was in a filthy state, and it was evident that many people had encamped at the place since we left it. Water was plentiful; it was drawn from a deep pool. To our horror, just as we had settled to rest in our chairs, we saw some of our boys and camp-followers washing their persons and their clothes in the water which we were to drink! One of them was a leprous trader. We raised some first-class trouble about this, and posted a sentry by the pool. But all we could do was to boil and filter the water thoroughly—and think of the other people who had bathed in it since we last tasted it. On Friday, February 20, we arrived at Gallabat.

I will not dilate on the traveller’s delight in seeing again a batch of envelopes addressed to him in familiar handwriting. It is one of the pleasures which is becoming rare, but a trip into Western Abyssinia still provides an opportunity for it. In the town I met the Doctor of Kassala. He was then making a tour of inspection with the object of discovering cases of leprosy. The Egyptian Government has wisely ordained that lepers shall be compulsorily segregated; there is a hospital for them at Gallabat, which serves as a receiving station. An attempt is being made to form a colony of these stricken people, where they may cultivate the land and live by their labour.

The water which we had drunk at “Warsha No. 1” punished us rather severely for our rashness. And while suffering from this inward infirmity, I saw the camels that were waiting to wreak their eccentricities upon us during the remainder of the journey. It was our intention to follow the upper course of the river Atbara through Sofi to Kassala. This was formerly a frequented route, but the Dervishes had destroyed all the villages that stood beside it, and, as a consequence, the disused track had become impassable. It was then being repaired, but the work was still some way short of completion, and it seemed that we might be compelled, after all, to return as we had come by the road through Gedaref. However, our chief telegraphed to Mr. Flemming, asking him to send a gang of men, if possible, to the spot where the track was in the worst condition, and this he did. So we were able to carry out our plan, and had the satisfaction of being the first travellers who journeyed by the repaired highway from Gallabat to Kassala.

On February 22 we paid off the escort and followers who had gone into Abyssinia with us. Johannes received as presents a revolver and a watch, the others a gift of money. We found that nearly all preferred a settlement by means of drafts on Colonel Harrington at Addis Abbiba. If they carried cash through the “rain country” they would run a great risk of losing both their money and their lives. Before we bade farewell to Johannes, he told us that we had on one occasion, unconsciously, been in no small danger in Abyssinia. At a certain village a rumour was spread that King Menelek had sold the lake to the British. The supposed transfer was by no means to the taste of the Habashes—and we represented the English interest. Disregarding the niceties of French grammar, Johannes remarked that he had _beaucoup de peur_ at the time. In our case ignorance was bliss.

On this day we said good-bye to Zodi. He had decided to return to his own country with Johannes. We all wished that he could have finished the journey with us, but felt that we should not be justified in discharging him finally in a country where he was ignorant of the language. He took his leave of us, bowing to the ground and addressing us in his own tongue. His face bore an expression which it is difficult to describe; he was showing his spotlessly white teeth in a smile, but he was half crying nevertheless. I have always wished that I could have engaged him as my servant. He was an excellent and faithful lad, and I believe that he did us valuable service when we were near Zegi, and the Fituari’s son was inclined to give trouble. Zody, as a native of the lakeside (Korata), was able to influence his neighbours on the opposite shore when a Habash from another district might have been disregarded or set at naught.

My two companions went out with their rifles in the afternoon, and there was no slight commotion in Gallabat when they were heard firing at antelopes in the distance. During our absence, as I have already mentioned, an Abyssinian band had raided two villages and carried off thirty-eight men and boys into slavery. The noise of the discharges made the natives think that the slave-raiders were at their work again. The very serious political consequences which these incursions will certainly cause sooner or later have been alluded to before.

It may interest my readers, if, before saying the last word about Gallabat, I give a brief account of the battle which took place there in March, 1889, between King John of Abyssinia and the Dervishes. Perhaps no incident in modern history so strangely combines the oriental and the mediæval atmospheres, or so oddly illustrates the effect of weapons of precision in warfare of the biblical type. A detailed narrative has been given by Mr. Augustus Wylde.[106]

The Dervishes had invaded Abyssinia in 1887, at a time when the forces of the Negus were scattered. They defeated Tecla Haimanot and devastated the region to the north of Lake Tsana. In 1888 they renewed the invasion, but in the meanwhile the King of Godjam’s army had been reinforced and his troops had been rearmed. The Dervishes suffered a severe defeat. The Negus completed his preparations in the winter of 1888-9, and gave notice to the Khalifa of his intention to march upon Omdurman. The Dervishes massed about seventy thousand men at Gallabat, where they occupied a large zareba which was protected by a dyke and some redoubts. They also had artillery in the fort where the scorpions have now become so formidable. But they were badly supplied with small-arms, whereas King John’s men had a plentiful stock of effective rifles of a French pattern.

The Dervish position was surrounded by the Abyssinian army. The Khalifa’s men were crowded in their enclosure, and, owing to its construction, could not fire from it without exposing themselves. The Abyssinian marksmen did terrible execution, and finally a body of King John’s horse, supported by a hot rifle-fire at short range, burned the thorns of the zareba at several points and filled up the ditch. The position was then “rushed,” and only a few of the Dervishes, aided by the smoke and the confusion, escaped.

“Facing King Johannes’s bodyguard,” says Mr. Wylde, “one small redoubt, strongly fortified and held by the black slave soldiers of the Dervishes, still held out, and their rifle-fire was doing some execution. The King, getting angry that it had not been taken in the rear by the troops that had entered the sides of the fortifications, and who were engaged in plundering, went forward to attack it with his followers. The gaudy dresses worn by his staff, with their silver shields and the bright silks, drew the fire of the defenders. King Johannes was struck by a bullet that traversed the lower part of his arm and entered the intestines near the navel, taking into the wound a part of his dress. He still gave orders, and kept on the field till the redoubt was rushed and those in it all killed.”

The King died about twenty-four hours after he was wounded. Quarrels with regard to the succession immediately commenced among the Rases, and instead of following up their victory, they retired at once into Abyssinia with their captives and plunder, in order to serve the interests of their respective factions.

“On the 11th, in the afternoon, old Ras Areya, the King’s uncle, a man nearly eighty years of age, who had played a wonderful part in Abyssinian history, was left with a few followers to bring back the King’s body for burial. The body had been cut in half so that it could be carried more easily, and was put in a clothes-box so that it could be laden on a mule. Only a few of the King’s devoted servants remained behind, with a few priests and their armed servants. On the 12th, while following the Taccazze road, the sad and mournful procession was overtaken by a few Dervishes and some Arabs, who had returned on the night of the 10th to reconnoitre Gallabat, and when they found it abandoned they had followed one of the lines of retreat to find out what was going on and the reason the Abyssinian victory had not been followed up.”[107]

Ras Areya could have escaped, but died, with a few of his soldiers and the bravest of the King’s servants, defending all that remained of his liege. He “was last seen standing alongside the box containing the King’s body, after having expended all his ammunition, with his shield and sword in his hands.” He was speared by a Dervish from behind. The Khalifa made no attempt to invade Abyssinia in force after the battle of Gallabat.

Mr. Wylde received this information from a priest who was present and who escaped, though he was badly wounded. I was told that the King died in a small hut, attended by two monks and four nuns, who tried to keep his death secret, and that an old woman, a servant of the nuns, being captured later by the Dervishes, revealed, in order to save her life, the line of retreat of the party that was bearing away the King’s body.

The encounter took place at night, and such a scene in the moonlight seems more like an imagined passage in an epic than an occurrence in the closing years of the last century. I do not know whether the nuns accompanied Ras Areya, nor what their fate was. The Dervishes cut off the King’s head and carried it to the Khalifa at Omdurman.

There are numerous graves around Gallabat of those who fell in the engagement. These are mounds, on which are laid agates brought from the bed of the Atbara. The tombs of the Soudanese have upon them a calabash, or more usually a pair, containing grain and water—presumably to satisfy the needs of the dead man’s shade. I do not know how the custom of solacing the deceased thus is reconciled with the doctrine of Islam.