JOURNAL
OF
HERBERT EDWARD
PRETYMAN

Still going up the river. Lovely weather; the thermometer stands at seventy-five during the day but drops to forty-five soon after sunset, so rugs and overcoats are not to be despised. They have got the railway extension[1] from Aniont to Girgeh nearly finished. This will make a good day difference in the Nile journey. Such an odd man came on board this morning, a huge Frenchman[2] dressed in the following garb. On his head an enormous helmet extending right round over his shoulders, a magnificent suit of brand new kharku, the whole finished off with a pair of long brown boots right up a foot over his knees; these were ornamented with spurs. He also wore a big overcoat, and was followed by two dogs. In his hands, which were carefully gloved, he carried a long thing like an alpenstock. I suppose the latter was to keep his dogs in order. This magnificent specimen of the French race has just disembarked again. Athlumney says he looked like one of Augustus Harris’s brigands.

A telegram has just been handed to me to say that rooms for the night have been secured for me at Kenneh. This is luck, as I expected to spend the night in the open somewhere outside the town. Arrived at Kenneh landing-place at 10.30 P.M., and had the greatest difficulty in getting the baggage ashore in the dark. At last, after fighting our way through a howling mob of men and donkeys, we managed to make a goodly heap on the river bank. Our difficulties were here by no means at an end, as there was nothing on wheels to remove our things to the town, about a mile off. However, after a while two camels were forthcoming, of which we made the most by fairly smothering them with baggage. I thought they would never carry it all, but the drivers said it was nothing of a load. I was informed on landing that a hotel had just been started at Kenneh; so we determined to give it a trial. The place is kept by a most villainous-looking Greek; but really he did his best to provide for his late and unexpected guests. I really believe we are the first. Clean sheets were forthcoming, and by the help of our own rugs we managed to make a very decent shakedown. There are no windows in the house, or rather no window-frames, so the space is filled up with a kind of open Venetian blind-arrangement of wood, which lets in plenty of fresh air.

January 5th, 1891.

Went in the morning to see my friend Hassan Effendi. He came down on the steamer with us; and, as he speaks excellent English, he has been quite a godsend. He informed me that he had found a camel sheikh, but that I must first go and visit the Mudir of the town to get permission to travel in the Eastern Desert. Accordingly, we set off together to the great man’s house. We found him seated on his divan, surrounded by his scribes and counsellors. Having been formally introduced to all the high officers of state, I was given a seat, and our “shauri” began.

Hassan Effendi explained that I had permission from the Sirdar to shoot in the Kittar mountains, but that it had not been given me in writing, which was certainly unfortunate. The Mudir thought deeply for a long time. Then he and all his supporters chattered and talked against each other, till I began to wonder what it was all about. When it was all over, Hassan Effendi told me that they had been discussing how I could possibly live in a country where there was no food. This, I explained, was easily done by means of stores carried on camels. I hoped the old boy was satisfied; but he said he would not let me go without leave from the Minister of the Interior at Cairo, and that I had better telegraph to the Sirdar to telegraph to the said Minister, who would in turn telegraph to him (the Mudir), sanctioning my departure. So matters stand at present, and I am awaiting a telegram to let me start. If it does not come to-night I shall go and “draw” the Mudir again, if only to get some more of that excellent coffee. My breakfast this morning consisted of an omelette and native black bread toasted. It is not very delicate in flavour, but I thought it better than the native bread one gets in Norway. Having only one kettle and no teapot in this establishment, they boiled the goat’s milk and tea up together, and brought it up as it was.

I rode out on a donkey with my dragoman Faragh, and succeeded in shooting fourteen pigeons and two doves. The pigeons fly very well, nice rocketing shots, and consequently give good sport. I could have shot a lot more, but had enough for our pot.

Have arranged with a camel sheikh, by name Suliman Jirmān, to pay him eighteen piastres (there are 97½ piastres in an English pound) a day for each camel. We are to have three for our baggage, one for the water in four skins, and three for riding. He says our first well, Bir ’Arrās, is dried up, so we shall have a longer distance to travel without water. He also says he knows the road to the mountain.

January 6th, 1891.

Still dawdling here, as no telegram has been received from the Minister. I telegraphed to Floyer this morning, and have had a reply saying he is telegraphing to the Sirdar, and that he is sorry the Mudir is so troublesome. The worst of it is, the Sirdar is up the river about three days from Cairo, and consequently it is rather difficult to get a telegram to reach him. I visited the ancient temple of Dendera on the other side of the river, such a wonderful place. I climbed up to the top after a great scramble, and got a magnificent view of the Nile Valley, and of the mountain opposite. The hieroglyphics on the wall are in wonderfully good preservation, especially in the chamber beneath the temple. These chambers are full of bats, and smell accordingly. I took eight photographs, and shot one pigeon. We lunched in the shade of the temple. All my camels are ready for a start, and I long to be off, especially as I want to send the camels and waterskins back here for Powney.

I was just getting into bed last night when a centipede about two and a half inches long crawled out. I secured him in a tumbler and counted his legs this morning. There were over one hundred on each side of his body. The mosquitoes here are very fierce and hungry, but one never sees them on the Nile itself,—they all seem to frequent the towns. An old fossil came here to-day and offered to take me two days into the desert to shoot wolves. I suppose he meant hyænas. I declined with thanks. Great preparations are being made here to receive the Khedive, who is coming up to Wadi Halfa next week.

Such lovely weather. Mail leaves to-night.

January 7th, 1891.

A telegram came from the Minister of the Interior to-day directing the Mudir to let me go but added that it was entirely on my own responsibility, and that the party must be well armed. Why such a fuss should be made I can’t understand, as there is about as much danger as in one’s own garden at home.

The old camel sheikh is quite a character, and seems very particular that our waterskins, &c., are in good order. We are to start at sunrise to-morrow. I killed seventeen pigeons to-day; there was a strong wind, so they flew like lightning. I was not in good form at first, but retrieved my character by accounting for eight birds in the last ten shots. We lunched under an enormous fig tree[3] just at the edge of the desert. The figs grew out of the trunk, and the leaves were oval. The fruit was hardly ripe, I tasted it and should say it would be very good when ripe. There was a heavy shower of rain early this morning. They tell me the average rainfall in these parts is two hours per annum. We might spare them a little from England.

January 8th, 1891.

Started this morning. Our caravan consists of twelve camels, three riding camels for myself, Froggatt (soldier servant), and Faragh the interpreter; four for all our baggage; the remainder carry waterskins and their own beans and cut straw for fodder. Besides these there are three baby camels who are following their mammas. Altogether we make up a goodly caravan.

The first march, six miles, is over flat desert, with no growth whatever till just at the end, when the Wadi curls round a spur of rocky cliff, where there is a group of stunted tamarisk trees, growing each on a mound of sandy soil formed of tangled roots. We pitched our first camp here under a tamarisk tree, the only one worthy of the name, and set to work to cook our dinner, consisting of bread and pea soup, which latter I am quite an adept at making in the following manner:—boil a lot of dried Egyptian peas in the saucepan till fairly soft, then pound them up with one of the tent peg mallets. Next add salt and pepper, also a few stalks of a plant which grows in the sand and resembles mint[4] (I think it is really artemisia). Strain the decoction through a piece of mosquito curtain, and eat hot. I don’t believe S——— could make better soup with all her pots and pans at home.

Our old camel sheikh took leave of us at Kenneh, and handed us over to the care of his son and grandson, who looks after my camel, a white one, the pick of the herd. There are also three other drivers. They all carry long guns, like pieces of gaspipe about as long as telegraph poles, which are fired with a slow match. They can’t be less than two hundred years old.

January 9th, 1891.

Started again at 8.30 A.M. after a light breakfast of eggs and bread. The nights are cold, the temperature falls to 38° Fahr. by 8 A.M., then rises to over 90° by midday—rather a difference. A short march to-day to Kasr el Jinn, meaning the fort of the Evil Spirit. It is only about twelve miles from our last camp, and we reached it at 3 P.M. This used to be an old Roman station, and is built on the top of a hill. The walls at the base are very thick, and built of big stones surmounted by sun-dried bricks, which are now quite decayed and in ruins. I went and dug with a “Wallace” spade for anything I might find; but there was nothing but bits of broken pottery. The whole place is choked with sand, and I soon got tired of digging in the sun. The desert was most dreary all to-day, nothing to relieve the monotony of the journey, and a camel goes so slowly, about two and a half miles an hour. I frequently got off and walked, leaving the caravan far behind.

We see a lovely mirage every now and again. We halt always for twenty minutes lunch at midday under the shade of our kneeling camels. Something went wrong with the pea soup this evening, which was not quite up to the mark. It is very amusing to watch the camels scrambling for their ration of beans after their march. They have nosebags put on and stand feeding for all the world like a lot of London cab-horses.

January 10th, 1891.

Made a good march to-day—nearly ten miles, pitching our camp about two miles short of the foothills which surround our mountain, which can now be seen looming big in the distance. We lunched to-day close to another old Roman station,[5] a large square hole about two hundred feet across and perhaps thirty-one feet deep. It evidently, once upon a time, contained water, as there are still the ruins of an old cistern surrounding it, in which the water was stored. The Wadi here branches off into two, one leads away eastward towards the Red Sea, the other still takes us on towards our destination. We now come to a few scattered mimosa bushes and dried up thistles—in fact, our camp to-day is surrounded by little greeny-brown shrubs, so we get plenty of firewood. Came upon gazelle tracks to-day, and at about 3 P.M. the keen eyes of my camel driver espied three of those pretty creatures scampering away in the distance. Dined on bread and sardines to-night, washed down by milkless tea. Saw two crows and a hawk to-day. I wonder what they find to eat and drink.

January 11th, 1891.

Started as usual about 8.30 A.M., and in about an hour entered the foothills. The Wadi now becomes narrower and improves in appearance, being decorated with two or three different kinds of scrub, some of which are really quite green. The valley is swarming with locusts, which are preyed upon by great numbers of hungry hawks and a few crows. We also saw two kinds of butterflies—the common English painted lady, and a small white one. Saw more gazelle to-day; they are very shy. These low mountains are of black granite and look like gigantic cinderheaps. The midday sun is “powerful” hot, and one longs for a little shade. We made a large, cheery camp fire this evening, and I sat and wondered what you were all of you doing at home— probably enjoying a good dinner. It is deadly still here; nothing to break the stillness of the night but the munching of the camels as they chew the cud. There is a planet rises at about 2 A.M., which is so bright that it casts a shadow like the moon. I suppose it is Jupiter, or perhaps it is the star Sirius.

January 12th, 1891.

Still winding our way up the Wadi; the mountains getting higher and steeper as we go on. Spied a most beautiful gazelle at about 10 o’clock, feeding on the scrub at the entrance to a ravine; not the common Dorcas gazelle, but quite a different sort. The Arabs called it a white gazelle, and said it was rare. I had a good look through my glass at it. It was nearly all white, with a few black markings on it, and lyre-shaped horns. It had evidently seen our caravan and was slowly making for the mountains. I made hot haste in pursuit, and after a long run got on its spoor. It had evidently heard me coming, as my boots made such a scrunching in the cindery ground, for when I came to the place where I expected to see it, it had decamped. I followed at a run on its tracks, and on reaching the top of a rocky rise I saw it standing, about five hundred yards away, on the far side of a ravine. It was no use following, so I turned back to the Wadi, meeting my camel-driver half way coming to see if I was lost. At midday the Wadi opened out into a large valley bounded on the north by the high mountains, at the foot of which we unloaded the thirsty camels, and started off to look for the long-hoped-for water, which our Bedouin told us was about half an hour’s climb up a gorge in the mountains. We found it as he said, two rocky pools, an upper and a lower, snugly hidden away in a deep cañon between two gloomy precipices. What a treat it was to see the camels quenching their thirst. It is a wonder how they ever managed to clamber up such a ravine, all a cascade of huge boulders and water-worn rocks. To-morrow the camels return for Powney, so we shall be alone for eleven days at least, during which time I hope to shoot an ibex and explore the mountains. We are 1700 feet above Kenneh by aneroid, and the night seems warmer than in the desert.

January 13th, 1891.

Climbed the mountain close to our camp in a N.E. direction, so as to cut into the gorge higher up than the spot where we had watered our camels yesterday. According to Floyer’s map, which is so far the only one in existence, the Kittar cascade should be reached about eight miles higher up this same ravine. So we climbed on, hoping to reach it in a few hours; but what was my surprise at suddenly coming upon this lovely waterfall before we had left camp an hour. Thus proving that in the map the cascade is put about six miles higher up the gorge than it really is. I shall chaff them about their map making when we get home. Having rested awhile, and filled the water-bottles, we proceeded up the ravine, which now widens considerably. After marching about two miles, clambering over big boulders, with which this mountain torrent is strewn, we came upon a narrow place in the ravine which was suddenly ended by a wall of granite, over the edge of which a tiny little trickle of water threaded its way until it finally lost itself in the sand at the foot of the wall, which was only about fifteen feet high. My Arab scooped out the sand with his hands and soon made a little hollow, which rapidly filled with water. This water is not marked in the map. At the base of the wall, and in the ravine where we stood, grew tall rushes and various green weeds, also a bunch of young date-palms all in a tangled mass. Close by grew two good sized fig-trees, not the common sort, as their stems were quite white and the leaves very small. Then again, out of a cleft grew a most peculiar tree,[6] with flat, round leaves of brightest green. The stems were covered with white thorns, and here and there ripe fruit hung down like long purple figs, full of juicy pulp and seeds. I eagerly picked some and took a hasty bite, but spat it out in disgust as it was most utterly nasty, bitter as gall, and left a burning on the tongue. However, my Arab ate a lot of it, and is, still alive. I am keeping the fruit to bring home as the tree was a very pretty one. Altogether this little glen made quite a pretty oasis in the midst of the mountains which towered around on all sides. Having climbed up over the rock we scrambled on about half a mile till the ravine opened out again; and we found ourselves in a deep hollow amongst the mountains. Close by was a rude shelter of stones, roofless, but with a little window in it, and on the floor we picked up a few relics of old pottery.[7] After spying all the cliffs carefully for ibex and finding none, we returned to camp, after waiting awhile at the waterfall, which I must shortly describe. The narrow gorge ends suddenly in a sheer cliff about seventy feet high. At the top is a basin of clear water, the overflow of which trickles over the edge in scores of little silvery rills; all down the face of the rock grows lovely maidenhair ferns and tufts of rushes. Finally each little thread of water falls into the pool below, which I roughly put at ten feet deep and forty-one feet long, its breadth being the same as the ravine which held it, perhaps twenty-one feet.[8] Below, again, were two more pools about the same size, the whole forming a lovely necklace of limpid water, cool and quiet, as the sun never shines there. We viewed the spot from above, the only other occupant being a little waterwagtail that flitted about after insects on the water, and took no notice of us. I could find no way down the fall into the gorge below, which winds about till water again reappears at our old watering-place.

January 14th, 1891.

Had an adventure with ibex to-day, but failed to get a shot. We had come about three miles up the Wadi in an easterly direction from camp. Then the Wadi turns north to the Kohila water, about ten miles off. Here we turned to the left, and entered a narrow ravine, which led us up in a short time to the base of the mountain-top. Here we rested, and lunched on eggs and biscuits, admiring the grand view of these steep mountains, which shut us in on every side. Having lunched, we set off again, still bearing north, and soon saw our Wadi far away below us, as it curled gradually round to the N.W. We were just going down a narrow cleft in the rock, about two yards wide. I was first, and my Arab close on my heels, when I suddenly saw, not above fifteen yards off, a fine old buck ibex. He had heard us, and was slowly making off. I snatched the rifle from the hands of the Arab; but before I could cram a cartridge in and get a shot the old fellow had got round a corner of the cleft. It was too steep for me to follow, so I quickly divested myself of my boots, and started off up the side, telling my Arab on no account to move from where he was. On looking over the edge, I saw my beast, who had been joined by another, standing about 250 yards off, staring hard at my head, which was all he could see of me. We stared at each other for fully a minute; and, as I did not budge an inch, he seemed satisfied and walked slowly on. I waited till he had got over the top of a cliff—which I knew was very steep, as I had seen it from the Wadi in the morning—then started off quietly in pursuit. I fancied I had him in a corner; but not a bit of it! When I reached the edge of that precipice I could hear him climbing down underneath me. I dared not follow, so I hastily climbed down a gully close by, which led to the Wadi below, hoping thereby to cut him off before he could climb down. But I never saw either him or his mate again. They had either hidden in a cleft in the rocks or else gone off on the other side. They both had good heads, more especially the buck, whose horns shone in the sun and curled right over his back. Their coats are a beautiful soft silvery brown, shading off to white below. I was disappointed; moreover, my stockings and feet were cut by the rocks; so, as it was getting late and our water was nearly finished, I put on my boots, and we went home. We passed on the way a family of Bedawin in two little tents, three or four little black dots of children, their mother, two little kids and a puppy dog. How the latter can have got across the desert I can’t make out. We met the father later on, returning home up the Wadi, leading a camel with a cord tied through the poor beast’s nose, which was quite raw.[9]

So we have still no fresh meat in camp; but, as the Arabs say, “bukra” (to-morrow).

January 15th, 1891.

Visited the same ground as yesterday, and examined every ravine, nook and cranny in the vicinity without success. This took about three hours; and, as I had no boots on, my poor feet were fairly worn out—also a pair of socks, which I put over my stockings to save them from being cut. This is a capital way of getting over the ground quietly, as one can tread like a cat and peep round all the corners without being observed. I had an unconquerable thirst on all to-day; and as we passed the little Arab encampment which I spoke of yesterday, we were only too glad to get a good drink of water from one of their skins. I gave them a little salt and tobacco in exchange, which gladdened their hearts. After this halt by the way, for refreshment, we passed two more Arabs leading a camel, one an old man, the other young. My Bedawin recognized them as fellow-tribesmen, Ababdi, and they ran and fell into each others arms. The younger one had his hair in plaits, hanging down all round his head, and cut off all the same length at the bottom, just like the pictures of one of Bertie’s Somalis. Neither of them had ever seen a breech-loading rifle before. They were struck with wonder at the charge going in at the wrong end. The grooving down the barrel also astonished them muchly. They went into fits of laughter as each new thing was pointed out to them. I fear they departed rather out of conceit with their own old gaspipes. I gave them each a cigarette, and lit them by means of the object-glass of my telescope and the sun. They were simply speechless with wonder; took the lens and examined it all over, and finally ended, as usual, in going off into roars of laughter. The younger man had a beautiful set of white teeth, contained in a mouth like a rat trap. When he laughed I could see right down his throat, and nearly out at the other side of his head.

January 16th, 1891.

It blew hard in the night, and I feared for my tent several times; but nothing happened. Determined to spend an idle day to-day, so did not leave camp till 11 A.M., when I sauntered off alone to the camel pool in the ravine. There I sat for some time watching the dragon flies depositing their eggs in the water. I counted one lay 130 odd eggs in less than five minutes. Presently two lizards made their appearance and looked wonderingly at the intruder. I sat quite still; and at last, after shying several times, they scrambled down the rocks and came to drink head downwards at the edge of the pool close to my feet. Presently two fat mice came out of a crack in the rock and quenched their thirst. They did not seem at all afraid, though I could have kicked them easily. A pair of eagles came sailing over my head at the top of the ravine as I sat there. Such fine birds, breasts pure white, as also the top of their heads; the wings were black. I could have killed one with a good big charge of shot, but was very glad to let them go.

Having sat by the pool for an hour or so, I scrambled on up the ravine, which twisted about as I went on and became choked with huge boulders of granite, which were climbed with difficulty. In about three quarters of an hour I came to the foot of the waterfall already described. Having rested awhile and had a drink I hunted about for a way over the cliff up the side of the fall. After some time, and a stiffish climb, I reached the top in safety, and sat down again close to the head of the cascade. I had not been there many minutes when my eye fell upon some droppings. I satisfied myself that the ibex could not be far off. After a diligent search in the sand I found his tracks, which led down a neighbouring ravine towards the Wadi in which lay our camp. I crept stealthily from rock to rock, feeling sure my friend could not be very far off, and had not been creeping down the ravine for more than a hundred yards or so when, to my disgust, I heard a shot fired lower down the ravine in front of me. I hurried down to find my Bedawi had just killed a fine buck ibex,—the very one I was after. It appears he had come up the ravine to look for me, fearing I had lost my way in the mountains. He had taken his gun and had come on the ibex feeding in the ravine quite unconscious of danger. He got a pot shot at about fifteen yards; so the old gaspipe has beaten the breechloader after all!

We got back to camp at sunset and, as my Arab had to go off to the water to fill our skins, I set to work and had the skin off before dark. The horns are fair for an African ibex; and, what is more, we have now plenty of fresh meat in the camp. I have given strict orders that all offal left over, and any pieces of meat, are to be buried in a deep hole, so as to prevent unpleasant smells. I find a “Wallace” spade invaluable on expeditions of this sort, as it can be turned to so many purposes. I consider them the most useful tool ever invented.