Besides making one’s eyes very sore and mouth very parched in spite of every precaution, I found that it made my nose bleed, so great was the irritation caused by the gritty particles of sand. It was rare to have a sandstorm at night. I recollect only one case, and in that instance it was not very severe. These storms usually sprang up about 9 a.m., and raged discontinuously until 5 or 6 p.m.

It was bad enough for me, but in many ways I pitied the unfortunate Musa most. He, after a long, weary night march, was perhaps trying to cook my simple repast at midday, when a sandstorm would come up with its usual impetuosity and bury everything in oceans of sand. I must have eaten gallons of sand on this portion of my trek. I often marvelled that it did not make me ill, but I never noticed any unpleasant effects except for the disagreeable taste at the time.

During these fatiguing days I found it impossible to sleep at the midday halt, tired though I was. The discomfort of the interior of my shelter, even when it was not enveloped in a sand-cloud, was so great that sleep was out of the question. I always longed to start on our weary way once more. But the camels had to rest, and the Arabs and Musa appeared to find no difficulty in slumbering, for which I heartily envied them. The only time I managed to sleep was during the short rest in the evening after dinner. The hour of our departure at night varied with the time of moonrise, but the evening rest rarely exceeded two to three hours. Altogether we used to march about eighteen hours out of the twenty-four.

Even when sleeping in the Sahara it behoves the traveller to have one eye open, for there is always the fear of possible attack from desert robbers. I used to be very particular at night to secure the safety of the camp as far as I could. On arriving at the halting-place the camels were formed in a small circle, each one depositing its load at the spot where it had halted. A miniature zariba of baggage was thus formed. At the rear end of this I would have my bed pitched, and never went to sleep without having my two rifles loaded by my side. Danger in the desert generally coming from the rear, I was in a position to meet it at once, for I am a light sleeper. I could not depend on the Arabs or my servant to keep watch in turns, as I had previously intended them to do. In any case in the Tanezrouft the men were generally so weary that it was almost impossible not to drop asleep.

On the 29th of May, the fourth day of our journey through the Tanezrouft, the monotonous stretch of sandy plain which we had seen without interruption since leaving Timissao, gave way to a different nature of scenery. The country now became rocky and hilly. Barren, rugged peaks of isolated hills appeared. These rocks were of granite, split and cracked into hundreds of clefts by the action of the powerful sun. Although the sandy plains we had been crossing until now were dreary, desolate expanses, yet, in some ways, the gaunt, gloomy rocks before us were suggestive of a terrible loneliness too. On those gloomy but scorching hill-sides there existed no living thing. That parched-up land of desolation was the home of eternal death. The tops of the rugged peaks rose some three or four hundred feet above the surrounding plain, and I dare say, if some enterprising person cared to climb to the top, he would have a view over the whole Tanezrouft from one side to another, for the atmosphere is extraordinarily clear when no sandstorm is blowing.

This rocky spot in the centre almost of the Tanezrouft is known as In Zize. We were to camp on the other side of these hills at noon that day, and as we marched we saw some human skulls and the skeletons of three or four camels. The ghastly remains of some lost caravan. The bones, and in some cases the skins, were perfectly preserved. Here there were no vultures or wild animals to feast on the bodies, nor was there any damp to rot the skin. It was not difficult to surmise how this caravan came to perish. In the desert it is nearly always the same story. Either through losing their way, or an accident to the water supply, a caravan struggles on until it is exhausted and dies of thirst.

After quitting this place of rocks the desert resumed its former appearance. The interminable stretches of hard sand seemed to extend into infinity. As a rule it was flat as a billiard table, but here and there could be seen a small sandy mound or undulation which probably served as a landmark to the guide. Our daily marches averaged forty-eight kilometres, about thirty miles. As the camel is a slow marcher when laden, and sandstorms greatly interrupted progress, the distance covered was considerable. Besides, the animals were now weary and had some difficulty in maintaining even their usual pace. I was obliged to discard some of my baggage, chiefly ammunition, heads, and “couscous,” in order to lighten the loads. The water supply was lightening itself with alarming rapidity, and required a watchful eye. Musa was the chief, and indeed the only, offender. The negro is used to drinking a great deal of water, being ignorant of the virtue of self-control in this matter. I several times caught him taking surreptitious draughts at the water-skins, and had to check him severely. The heat, and thirst engendered by it, were certainly intense, so that I could not help secretly sympathizing with him, although it was necessary to be harsh. The daily ration of water was doled out twice a day—at the midday halt, and again in the evening—and at no other time was anyone allowed to touch the water supply.

Each day passed in the same fatiguing, wearisome manner. Long, exhausting night marches, a halt in the midst of heat and discomfort, followed by further marching in the afternoon, until, by the evening halt we were dead beat. And all the time, at short intervals, we had those horrible sandstorms. At night, while marching, it is true, we were exempt from the trials of a sandstorm, but by that time we were so tired that we marched sullenly on more like machines than men. The trials of those days in the Tanezrouft are not easily to be forgotten. Sometimes I used to wonder if there would be any end to it. The place in my imagination conjured up ideas of what the infernal regions must be like. A continual struggling forward with endless difficulties to contend against. To all intents and purposes no rest, a thirst that could never be quenched, and an utter distaste for the monotonous diet of dates and “couscous” well mixed with sand!

I often now wonder how one got through those weary days. When we halted in the daytime, as I could not sleep I used to attempt to write and work up my notes, but the discomfort was so great that the work I got through did not amount to much. Towards the end the water we had to drink was so disgusting, owing to the time it had lain in the water-skin, that the only way I could drink mine was in the form of tea. Fortunately I was well provided with tea all through my Sahara trek, and I used my ration of fuel in order to boil water for tea.

On the sixth day we crossed a series of parallel ridges of sand-hills. The sand here was, of course, quite soft, and the camels’ feet used to sink several inches deep into it. These sand-hills appeared to stretch as far as the eye could reach to the west, and possibly have some connection with the hills of moving sand known as Amool Gragim, which lie to the north of the desert salt-mines of Taudeny.

On the evening of the 1st of June, just before sunset, we arrived at the wells of Ahnet, having, to everyone’s joy, at last emerged from the desolate wastes of the Tanezrouft. Here there was fair pasturage for the camels, and everyone was in need of a rest, so I halted for a day and a half.

Some of our animals were in a bad condition. The march had been more than usually trying owing to the heat, and to the fact that caravans so rarely travel at this time of year in consequence. A feeling of satisfaction came over me at the thought that the worst was now over, for the strain of the last few days had been almost intolerable.

One of the most marvellous things about desert travel in the Sahara is the extraordinary instinct for finding the way possessed by the guides, and already referred to.

For miles and miles on the Tanezrouft there was, as far as I could see, no landmark of any description to assist Mahomed, yet he never erred. On this vast plain it would be extremely easy to miss a well, for an error of a few minutes in direction, when prolonged over a distance of about 133 miles, would bring the caravan to a point many miles away from the well on one flank or the other. For this very reason a compass is not of much use in desert travelling. The guide’s knowledge and instinct must alone be relied upon. Of course, the sun and stars give a good guide a very fair indication of his direction, but as I have just hinted, a greater degree of accuracy than this is imperative, for, surrounding a well, for many miles there are probably no landmarks to help the guide, and the well itself can usually not be seen till it is actually reached.

Towards the end of the Tanezrouft Mahomed’s sight began to get weak. He had probably strained his eyes by continually gazing at the far-distant horizon. I gave him some lotion from my small stock of medicines which did him good in a few days.

In the desert one of the commonest diseases, if not the only one observed in this healthy region, is ophthalmia. It is said to be produced by the sand which is always in motion in the atmosphere. Grown-up people and children alike suffer from it.

Our chief source of anxiety was always the water. The skins, or “guerbas,” in which this is carried are extremely susceptible to injury. Thorns, which are so common in the Sahara, penetrate the soft goatskin with ease, causing a puncture which very soon empties the bag of its precious liquid. For this reason great precautions are necessary, when a halt is made, that the water-skins shall not be placed on the bare ground on being taken off the camel’s back. It is essential to place something firm underneath. Further, the “guerba” should be covered over in the daytime to prevent it from perspiring unduly on account of the heat. In the desert one gets to care for one’s water supply with extraordinary solicitude. But this is hardly to be wondered at, since it is the very soul of existence there.

These water-skins each carry about six gallons when full. They resemble the “mussock” of the Indian “bhisti,” and have one end left unsewn to act as a mouthpiece. This end is tied up with string on the march. The “guerba” is slung, by means of a rope attached to two of its corners, across the hooks on the pack-saddle. At first I used to carry a water-bottle on my own camel, but latterly I rejected this in favour of a small “guerba,” which carried about a gallon of water and kept it far cooler. I never used a filter, and sometimes was obliged to drink the most filthy water, which under ordinary circumstances one would not have washed in. I must say that I seldom felt any ill-effects for long, after drinking this unwholesome stuff, and can only attribute it to the fact that one keeps in marvellously good health in that dry atmosphere.

CHAPTER XXIII

The Ahnet or Western Hoggar — A bad reputation — Tuareg highwaymen — A salt well — A barren region — We reach Insalah — A dramatic entrance — Colonel Laperine — Insalah — Its importance — Resources — Artesian wells — Varieties of dates — Pasturage — The streets.

THE region of the Tanezrouft, which we had just quitted, divides Adrar from the Hoggar country, and it was into the Ahnet, or Western Hoggar, that we had now emerged. The subsoil of Hoggar Ahnet consists of a certain amount of clay underneath the sand. In this respect it differed from the Tanezrouft, which has a large proportion of salt in its subsoil. The salt is, of course, to a great extent responsible for the barrenness of the Tanezrouft.

Western Hoggar consists of a plateau, about 200 feet lower than the Tanezrouft, the average height of which is 1200 feet. The whole of Hoggar is a mountainous country, situated almost in the middle of the Central Sahara. The nomads, as has already been stated, are a tribe of the Tuareg race. Their country is poor, as is only to be expected in the Sahara, but at the same time a little barley is grown in certain parts, while a small grape is also known to exist. These Tuaregs have a certain number of sheep and goats, but they are far inferior in quality as well as numbers to the flocks of the Iforas. Indeed, the Hoggars buy goats and sheep from the nomads of Adrar.

The Hoggars had a most unenviable reputation as the greatest robbers in the Sahara until quite recent years. The French desert columns have, however, inflicted some severe lessons on them, and they are now no longer so much to be feared as formerly. That they have not altogether abandoned their marauding propensities, however, I was soon to discover for myself.

The Hoggar country is well placed for its nomads to practise their robberies. This land lies on the flank of the trade routes of caravans proceeding from the north to the Niger, or to Domaggoran and the Hausa States. Hence the Hoggars were greatly feared by these caravans for many years. If a caravan was not well protected it was sure to fall a prey to their plundering bands, while isolated parties of two or three men and a few camels ran considerable risk of being captured and killed by them. These Tuaregs, like nearly all their race, are not traders. They have none but the most meagre resources in their own country, therefore they had to plunder to live. In the desert they have few superiors, and are adepts at handling camels. In some parts of their country water is comparatively plentiful, while owing to the height of the mountains the cold in the night and early morning from October to January is very great. The highest peak, Mount Illimane, rises to a height of 9000 feet, and I have been told that Tuaregs state that snow has been seen on it. Hoggar Ahnet is in the nature of a flat spur projecting from this otherwise mountainous country.

At 2.30 p.m. on the 3rd of June we left the wells of Ahnet. This was now the last stage of the march to Insalah, and as time was getting short I was anxious to push on as rapidly as possible. I calculated I had still 800 miles of desert to traverse before reaching the Algerian railways, and as my leave expired on the 10th of July I should have some difficulty in reaching England by that date.

Compared with the Tanezrouft this land appeared to be a smiling garden, so sharp was the contrast! Here there were wide “oueds,” with good grazing for camels, and the relief at seeing even that dried-up Saharan vegetation was indescribable. Wells were by no means numerous, however, and between Ahnet and the next well, called El Jibal, there was a stretch of eighty-eight miles, or three long days’ march. It was while traversing this piece of desert that we had an encounter with some Tuareg highwaymen.

One afternoon, about three o’clock, I noticed three wild figures riding rapidly towards us on camels. They were approaching from the south-east, so presumably came from the interior of the Hoggar country. I called Mahomed’s attention to them, and instinctively felt for my rifle, which I always carried slung at my saddle. The small rifle was similarly slung on the saddle of my servant, and both were always ready for use.

Mahomed was armed with an old French Lebel rifle and was, I knew, a good shot. Othman had only a flint-lock muzzle-loader, which was of doubtful value even if he were an expert marksman. In the Sahara no one travels unarmed, so we were not surprised to see the new arrivals had weapons. But they were literally armed to the teeth, so appearances rather suggested they were up to no good. Each man had an almost new Lebel carbine, with a bandolier full of ammunition slung beside it, in addition they carried the two Tuareg swords and a spear each.

Mahomed said nothing in reply to my ejaculation, but I saw him slip a cartridge into the breech of his rifle, which significantly showed what he thought of them. I gave Musa a warning word to be on the alert with the ·303, and by this time they were almost within speaking distance.

Their appearance was fantastic, reminding one forcibly of the brigand in a play. The leader, a stalwart man with his face more than usually enveloped in his “litham,” wore a bright red cloth thrown over his shoulders, while his legs were encased in a pair of gaily decorated leather boots, which reached almost to the thigh, and covered entirely the lower part of his baggy white trousers. The two followers were similarly attired, but less elaborately, and appeared considerably inferior in rank. All three were mounted on the shaggy-haired camels which are bred in the mountainous country of Hoggar. These beasts looked built for speed, and appeared to be in first-rate condition. Until I was more certain of their motives I did not produce my rifle, although I was ready to do so at an instant.

At the time I was in rear of the little convoy, and the leader, closely followed by his companions, rode rapidly up to Othman, who was in front with Mahomed. Two men roughly seized Othman’s “mesoued” (leather kitbag), while the third got in front of him, laying his hand on his rifle. Their movements, evidently carefully prearranged, had been so rapid that all this had happened in a few seconds. I at once produced my rifle, urged my camel forward, and ordered them to desist. My knowledge of Temacheq, as the Tuareg language is called, was limited to a few words, but, on hearing my tone of voice, they immediately looked towards me, and I covered the third member of the gang with my rifle. He let go his weapon at once, and the other two desisted. By this time Musa and Mahomed had also got their rifles raised, and they realized, I suppose, that the game was up. I can only imagine that they took it for granted that we would be cowed at their overbearing demeanour, otherwise their action in plain daylight would appear very foolish.

I told Mahomed to tell them to clear off at once or I should make them prisoners; at the same time we relieved them of their ammunition, without which they were harmless. I could not carry their rifles, so left them in possession of these. Moreover, rifles are fairly easy to replace, as there is so much gun-running in North Africa, but ammunition is very hard to obtain. So ended this little incident, which was my only experience with desert robbers. It was perhaps fortunate that this party was such a small one, but, in any case, we were well armed, and could always have given a good account of ourselves.

After descending from the plateau of Ahnet we approached the desolate region called Mouyidir, which lies between Ahnet and the Tidikelt country. It first appeared as a frowning mass of black, rocky hills on the east, which got nearer to us as we advanced each day. Finally, we were marching on the western border of the Mouyidir country. At this point was a well, called Imbelram, which we reached on the 8th of June. This well was so salt that the water was almost undrinkable. My first draught of water made me ill, and it had an unpleasant effect on all who drank it. However, we had to fill up our “guerbas” with this water, for there was ahead of us a waterless region, about eighty miles wide, which was a part of the Mouyidir plateau.

In some respects this region was as inhospitable as the Tanezrouft, but a scanty amount of pasturage and fuel existed for the first fifty miles, the remainder of the desert being absolutely without any vegetation whatever.

Mouyidir is a district in which rain seldom falls. For the past seven years there had not been a drop, so it was hardly to be wondered at that there was little vegetation in the land. The plateau is of chalky soil, the northern part being cut up with numerous slaty gullies. Although sandstorms were less frequent here I found the heat more trying than in the Tanezrouft. The highest shade temperature I recorded was 111·5 degrees, and possibly we were fatigued by our previous experiences, so noticed the heat more than we should otherwise have done.

Musa was quite overcome on two occasions, and I began to feel glad we were so near Insalah, where he would be able to rest. Poor Musa by this time had assumed a woeful appearance. His clothes were in such rags that he had to discard his nether garments altogether, and turn his coat into trousers, by using the sleeves for his legs! Around his body he carelessly flung his blanket, thus creating such a ludicrous object that I could not help laughing when he first showed himself in his new attire. My own scanty wardrobe was sadly in need of repair, so I also longed for a chance of mending my clothes.

At this time I had, fortunately, one water-skin of fairly good water remaining from the previous well, so decided to use it, only, for the passage of the Mouyidir desert as long as it would last. The salt water of Imbelram not only made me ill, but seemed to increase, instead of alleviating, the thirst. Here again hard marching was the order of the day. The distance to the well of El Gouirat on the north side was covered in fifty-four hours; and the last fifty-five miles took no more than thirty-four hours, in which we only rested for four hours altogether. I must own to being greatly fatigued on arriving at the well of El Gouirat, but as Mahomed declared it was “quite near” to Insalah, indicating that we could reach it in three hours, I decided to go on with him that afternoon, leaving the baggage to follow with Othman and Musa the next day.

I suppose Mahomed’s joy at being so near his destination made him exaggerate, for, to my cost, I discovered it was about twenty miles to the oasis, and we did not arrive till eight o’clock that night. Our camels were weary, and we were not a whit less so when, at last, we saw the palm trees of the oasis in the distance.

As we rode over the crest of a sandy ridge Mahomed pointed in front of us to a faint, dark line, just visible in the rapidly falling dusk. The houses I could not see; even in the daytime they are difficult to distinguish from the surrounding sand until one is quite close to them.

My entry at the officers’ mess was a strange one. The Arab servant who answered my summons at the door regarded me with evident suspicion. Probably the only Europeans he ever saw were the officers with whom he was well acquainted, and the sight of a strange white face seemed to cause him great uneasiness. He positively refused me admission, so I brushed past him and mounted some steps towards the flat roof on which I could see some men sitting. When I announced myself their surprise was hardly less than that of the servant. They afterwards told me that they had heard news of my projected journey during the previous October, nine months ago. They had expected me to pass through Insalah in March or April, and, as I had not arrived, they thought I had probably abandoned my plan or come to grief in the Sahara. No wonder, therefore, that my appearance now caused them some surprise.

When I arrived that night, the 12th of July, the heartiness of their welcome could not have been exceeded. It made one really appreciate kindness when it was extended, as it was by these French officers to me, with such thorough genuineness.

At the risk of being accused of gluttony, I must acknowledge how I enjoyed my supper at Insalah that night. After eating food cooked in sand for the past five weeks it was a treat to have a well-served-up dish.

It appeared that the Commandant, Colonel Laperine, was away, a piece of news at which I was much disappointed, for I had heard so much of his fame as a soldier skilled in desert warfare, that I had looked forward to this opportunity of meeting him. In the Central Sahara, I suppose there is no name so widely known and respected, or feared, as the case may be, by Tuareg and Arab. He had served for many years with French troops in this region, where only the hardest and most self-controlled men can possibly exist, and on many occasions had led “forlorn hopes” with brilliant success. Although he has now left those parts for a high command in France, Colonel Laperine’s name is one which will live for many a long year in the Central Sahara.

I was comfortably housed in the post at Insalah that night, and the following day my baggage arrived at an early hour, having marched all night. The exhausted camels were taken away by Mahomed for a well-earned feed on dates and a thorough rest. Although we had been fortunate in not losing a single animal during the hardships of the last five weeks, yet most of them were in a desperately poor condition, and would need many weeks in a pasturage before they would be again fit for work.

From Gao to Insalah I calculated I had marched across 936 miles of desert, and the time taken was fifty days.

I had slept that night on the roof of my house, as I was warned it would be very hot inside. I awoke very early to find a small sandstorm raging round me, and jumped out of bed fairly quickly. It was not till some hours later, when the wind had abated, that I was able to get my first real glimpse of Insalah.

The officers’ quarters were all inside the fortified post, and were built with thick walls of red clay. This clay is found in the desert in certain places not far from Insalah, at some feet below the sand, and all the huts at Insalah are made of it. Insalah lies in the middle of a sandy plain, which is enclosed on the east and west by low ridges of sand-hills. It is one of the oases, and the principal one, in the region called Tidikelt. It is a date-palm oasis of some importance. The oasis stretches for a distance of about three and one-third miles to the west, while the grove of palm trees is on the average one and one-third miles wide. Insalah is made up of three “ksours” or villages. The total population is about five hundred. These consist mostly of Arabs, but traders from all parts of the Sahara, who are constantly arriving on their way through, make a further floating population of fifty to one hundred souls.

The importance of Insalah is due to its geographical position. It lies at the eastern extremity of the long line of oases which commences with Colomb Béchar, extending through Beni Abbes and the Touat. Owing to this comparatively fertile region of oases giving a good line of communication into the Sahara from the west, caravans from the borders of south-west Morocco naturally follow this route and come to Insalah. From Insalah there are several important caravan routes leading north, south, and east. The main caravan route from the north, leading from Biskra to the Niger, passes through here; while caravans proceeding to Tripoli from the west also use this route in preference to any other.

Water at Insalah is very plentiful, but slightly salt. It is found at a depth of about fifteen feet, but the second layer of water, which is preferable for Europeans to drink, is found at a depth of thirty feet.

The principal resource of Insalah is its dates. The population lives on the date harvest, and there is a sufficient surplus for sale to nomads in less favoured localities in the desert. A small quantity of corn and barley is also grown by irrigation. The method of irrigating is worthy of notice. Water is, of course, led from the wells, of which there are positively hundreds at Insalah. Small trenches are dug, called “fogara,” by which the water is conducted from the well to the foot of the palm trees, thus irrigating the dates. Around the foot of the palms each landowner grows a small farm of corn or barley. These little farms are irrigated from the main “fogara,” by minor channels leading in different directions.

During the past three years the French have bored numerous artesian wells. The largest gives an output of 4500 litres a minute. The result of all this irrigation is to produce a wonderfully verdant mass of foliage, which is most refreshing to the eye of the desert traveller, who, like myself, has not seen anything that could be called really green for many weeks. It cannot be said that Insalah is a prosperous centre of trade. Beyond a little commerce in dates it does no business whatever. The inhabitants are poor. The place is being rapidly encroached on by the desert sand, and, altogether, its future does not appear bright. In order to prevent the sand from encroaching desperate efforts have been made to keep it out by building barricades on the side from which the prevailing wind blows. These barricades, built on the north-east of the oasis, are made of batches of palm leaves, placed on the tops of high mounds or sand-dunes. But Insalah is a place of sand, in which, during the greater part of the year, a strong north-east wind is blowing, ever bringing more and more sand into the oasis. The so-called streets are several inches deep in soft sand, and everything gets covered with it in the houses.

While at Insalah I went for a ride in the palm groves, and it was then that I learned something about dates. There are many varieties of the fruit, but the principal ones are the “grhess” and the “deglet-nour.” The former is the ordinary date of commerce, and is the one grown and sold at Insalah. It is the “grhess” which is eaten by the desert traveller, and it is carried for sale in bags made of camel’s hair, called “tellis.” A “tellis” contains eighty to one hundred kilos of dates, and two “tellis” make a camel’s load. Dates are harvested in September or October. At this period of the year nomads flock to the oasis to gather their harvest or buy the fruit if they do not themselves possess trees at Insalah.

The “deglet-nour” is a finer date. It is, indeed, the date we see in England, sold for dessert in white boxes. None of these are grown at Insalah, but they come from the oases in the extreme north.

If rain falls in any quantity where dates are growing the fruit is ruined. The date tree requires plenty of irrigation at the roots, but water on the fruit quite spoils the latter. The reason for this is that dates are covered with a coating of sugar, which protects and nourishes the fruit, but rain washes this off. At Insalah, and all date oases, there are swarms of flies. These flies come to feed on the sugar, just mentioned, on the coating of a date. The plague of flies in these places is most disagreeable, and commences from the time the fruit begins to ripen, continuing till the end of the harvest.

Pasturage for camels is bad and scarce near Insalah. Camels have to be sent 200 kilometres away to graze, so that, when they are at Insalah, some other form of food has to be given them. The animals actually stopping in the oasis are generally fed on dates. These are broken up into small pieces, and either given raw, or cooked soft, to the beasts. Dates are an expensive form of diet for the camel, as his appetite is so insatiable, but at the same time they are very nourishing. Camels are also fed on barley, but as the quantity grown at Insalah is so small this form of food is exceptional.

Some of the streets of Insalah are absurdly narrow. The main street in the principal “ksour” in one place is barely twelve inches wide. The ponies of the oasis are very clever at passing along it—from constant practice, I suppose. The houses at this spot have been built so close together that little room was left between them for a street. Insalah has the appearance of an Eastern town. Arab beggars and cripples are a common sight in its streets. Some of these are uncommonly dirty, but picturesque. Tattered, flowing gowns, once white, but now coffee colour from the dirt of ages, adorn their lean bodies; while the older ones have fine white beards, often sweeping half-way down their breast. The Arabs of this part are fine-looking men as a rule. They are very pale of complexion, with black or dark brown eyes, aquiline noses, and white teeth. Most of them are muscular and extremely wiry. I fancy a great many children die at birth, so it is a case of the survival of the fittest.

A strange place is this little town of sand, buried in the heart of the Central Sahara, but although so small, and with such limited resources, what a paradise it seems to many a wayfarer in the desert! Here at least it is possible to get shelter from the cruel sandstorms and from the fierce heat of the sun. At Insalah there is that precious necessity of life, water. While here, also, a man can rest, and his camels can be relieved of their burdens. The necessity for hurrying forward with the restless energy which is required of a caravan in the Sahara need no longer be exercised. Peace and rest are the two exclamations which must rise to the lips of almost every traveller when he sees the Oasis of Insalah before him.

CHAPTER XXIV

Disturbing news — En route for Algiers — A remarkable man — Horses at Insalah — Hospitality of French officers — Slavery amongst the Arabs — An unusual sight — A pathetic story — My own valet and cook — A precipitous track — The “Great Erg”— Hassy Inifel — An incompetent guide — Lost — A useful camel-driver — A hospitable Arab chief — An unappetizing menu — The dates of Ouargla — Touggourt — A ramshackle coach — Biskra.

THE morning after my arrival at Insalah the officer in command of the post came to see me wearing a very troubled look. I could not help surmising that some serious incident had occurred, and waited for him to tell me what it was.

It appeared that a messenger had just arrived in great haste on a camel from a place called Tit, which was a small oasis in the Touat region, about sixty-six miles from Insalah.

The messenger, a “Méhariste” of the camel corps, stationed in the Tidikelt, was one of a column which had gone out with Captain Niéger, some days previous to my arrival, into the desert west of Insalah. This column was engaged in some military operations in that district which were expected to last some time. The news which he brought was grave. It appeared that Captain Niéger had stopped at Tit to settle some dispute between two Arabs there. One of these men, apparently dissatisfied with the decision of the Captain in the matter, had waited his opportunity for revenge.

When Captain Niéger was entering his tent and had his back turned to the man, the latter sprang upon him and stabbed him in the liver. He then lifted his dagger for a second blow, but Captain Niéger had quickly turned and caught his hand as it was descending. The second stab was of no consequence, merely cutting his wrist, but the first one had caused a dangerous wound. The Captain lay in a serious condition at Tit. The message urgently asked for a doctor to be despatched at once. It was further stated in the message that the would-be murderer was a fanatical Mohammedan, but that he had been caught, and it was hoped the trouble would not influence other fanatics in the district to a serious rising. My host was naturally very disturbed at this news, especially as the Captain was a great personal friend of his. A doctor was immediately despatched to the scene of the incident, and we could only hope that he would be in time to save the officer’s life. It was evident that his condition was critical, for the Captain had sent a message for his family in France.

I had now to arrange for fresh camels and a new guide to accompany me from Insalah to the end of my journey. My original plan had been to go from Insalah to Colomb Béchar. The latter oasis lies about 600 miles north-west of Insalah. It is at the rail-head of the Oran railway. I now found, however, that I should not have time to carry out this part of my programme, and that I should be obliged to adopt the shorter route to Algiers, which led almost due north through the oases of Ouargla and Touggourt. By this latter route I should be able to join the railway line at Biskra, 125 miles north of Touggourt. Moreover, between Touggourt and Biskra I could have the benefit of the coaching service, which runs three times a week and covers the distance in two days.

An Arab trader was found willing to let me have camels and to act himself as guide. My caravan was to be ready on the 15th. I had now consumed, or thrown away, so much of my ammunition and provisions that I could with ease reduce the number of baggage animals to two.

A French sergeant, who was proceeding on leave, was to accompany my caravan. He also had two camel loads. Our two “méhara,” or riding camels, made the total of the caravan amount to six camels. The guide had one “sokrar,” or camel driver, to assist him, and included in the party was an Arab soldier going on furlough to the north.

Our guide was not a prepossessing individual. He belonged to a mongrel race who were an offshoot from the big Chaamba tribe. His appearance led one to believe that he was a lazy and not over-intelligent scoundrel. However, guides do not grow on every gooseberry bush at Insalah, so I considered myself lucky to be able to secure one so quickly.

A question that rather puzzled me was how the news of my intended arrival had not reached Insalah by the messenger who had been despatched from Kidal. I was informed, however, that he had not yet arrived, and, curiously enough, he did not arrive till the day before I left Insalah. So I had actually travelled more rapidly than he had done! He had been much delayed by some accident to his camel and by the great heat on the way.

The camels I was to use were far stronger-looking animals than any I had seen in the south. On the other hand, the riding camels of the north are inferior to those of the Iforas. The baggage camels will here carry enormous loads. It is quite a common sight to see 400 to 500 pounds on an animal’s back, while they even carry as much as 600 pounds in some parts. Camels will travel without a halt for a fortnight with such a load on their backs without suffering any ill-effects. But, at the same time, it must not be thought that these animals will be fit for hard work at once directly they reach their journey’s end. Like other camels in the Southern Sahara, they require long periods of rest after accomplishing a long desert march. Two to three months in perfect liberty in their pasturage is necessary for a camel in such a case.

At Insalah there is a fine library well equipped with books on desert travel. I had little time to do more than glance at one or two of these, but any desert traveller could not fail to be interested in much of this literature. One book particularly roused my interest. This was a work of Saharan travel by a man called “Père de Foucauld” (the Vicomte de Foucauld), whose name is well known to men in Central Sahara.

This remarkable man was originally in the French army, but latterly joined the sect of the “White Fathers.” He has travelled much in the desert, and a great many years ago executed a wonderful journey from the Mediterranean through Morocco to the Atlantic coast in the Spanish colony of Rio del Oro. This journey he performed in disguise as an Arab, but was discovered by the natives to be a Christian and a European, and only escaped with his life after running some extraordinary risks. M. de Foucauld has for the past few years taken a great interest in the Tuaregs of the Hoggar country. He resides among them, treating sick people and doing much good in several ways. He has so far gained their confidence as to be able to remain unmolested in their wild land. Further, he has greatly assisted the French Government in stopping the plundering habits of the Hoggars. He resides in a little hut in a part of their desert called Tamanrasset, a good many miles to the east of the route I had taken, and is almost the only European with any knowledge of the language of the Tuaregs. He is now engaged in writing a dictionary which will be of the greatest assistance in the study of Temacheq.

The horses in use at Insalah come from the north. They are bred in that part of Algeria called the Tell, which is a region along the coast of the Mediterranean. These horses seem to keep very fit at Insalah. They are sturdy little animals, about 13.2 to 14 hands, rather resembling the Barb, but more stoutly built. All the Europeans at Insalah keep horses. Of course, these animals are of no use in the desert, but to ride about in the oasis they are most useful. The chief difficulty is getting them across the Northern Sahara to Insalah. They are fed on barley or crushed dates. No sheep or cows were to be seen, but I was told that in the cooler season, from October to January, when the caravans are trading with the Adrar of the Iforas, a considerable number of sheep are brought here for sale. My guide Mahomed told me that the previous year he had brought a flock of sheep from Kidal, which had cost on the average 5 francs a head, and he had sold them at 15 to 25 francs apiece at Insalah. The profit was good, but obviously the risk was great, even when wells were more numerous and better supplied with water than at the present season of the year. Moreover, there was always the dangerous passage of the Tanezrouft to cope with, and for that portion of the journey water had to be carried for the sheep as well as the men of the caravan, thus entailing a huge number of camels for water alone.

The last morning of my stay at Insalah I was the guest of the officers at déjeuner. I was much honoured at being the recipient of many kindly expressed wishes from the good friends I had made there, and, as they stated, it was rather a unique occasion for an English officer to be entertained in the Sahara by officers of the French army. Many and fervid were the words in which the Commandant hoped for the continuance of the entente cordiale, and I could only reply that, judging from my experiences while travelling through the vast country which was ruled under the French flag, there seemed little likelihood of the good feeling between the two countries not enduring for many years to come.

My servant Musa had not yet recovered from the effects of our trials in the Tanezrouft, and I had some doubt as to the advisability of taking him any further. Unfortunately, there was not the slightest prospect of getting a servant of any description at Insalah. While I was debating this point, however, he hinted at being frightened of going into Algeria on account of his dread of being captured into slavery by Arabs. Until quite recent times much of the slave-trade in the Sahara was carried on by the Arabs. These people used to raid down into the south, carrying off into slavery the negroes of the Niger valley. Since the advent of the French this trade had practically ceased to exist, although isolated cases did even now occur. Musa had probably heard some of the harrowing tales of olden days, and seemed to think he would be putting his head into the lion’s mouth should he venture into the very country of the Arabs.

In the ordinary course not much harm was done by capturing slaves in the old days, for they were very well treated, not hard worked, and well fed. In fact, many of these slaves used to refuse to take their liberty when it was offered them. But in the case of slaves being captured by Arabs the position was a very different one. The Arabs were cruel masters, who beat and sometimes killed their slaves for the most trivial offences. Hence they were universally hated and feared by the negro. I pointed out to Musa that this sort of thing could not easily happen at the present day, and that with me he would be perfectly safe. I think, however, that his nerves were rather overwrought at what he had suffered, and he hardly seemed to be convinced. Under the circumstances it seemed more prudent to allow him to remain behind. Accordingly, I arranged with a French officer to take charge of him until there was a suitable opportunity of sending him with a caravan to the Niger in the autumn. I was sorry to part with Musa for several reasons. He was an excellent, hard-working, and faithful “boy.” I had hardly heard him utter a single complaint all through that trying time in the desert. Moreover, his loss was an irreparable one for me. Henceforth I should have to cook my own food and make my own bed. I can hardly say I relished the prospect!

For the first twenty-five miles of our journey north there were two oases, in each of which the water was obtained from artesian wells, and was excellent. The idea of finding wells at such close intervals appeared strange after our former experiences, and it hardly seemed as if we could really be still travelling through the Sahara. The intervening country, however, was typical desert. These two spots had been fertilized by purely artificial means, merely possible because the water here is plentiful and at no great depth below the surface of the sand. The surroundings are desolate in the extreme. A bare, undulating, sandy plain is the characteristic feature of the whole country. No “oueds” or pasturage for camels are anywhere available. Not a leaf or blade of grass is to be seen. Camels are fed on dates procurable at these two oases en route. At the second oasis, called Foggaret el Zoua, there is a fair amount of barley grown. After this there was no water for fifty-seven miles, until we reached the mountain range of El Guettera. Here there is a spring in the rock, so that one actually sees a faint trickle of running water—an unusual sight in the desert, and one I had not seen since quitting the Niger, nearly eight weeks previously.