My companions returned half an hour after midday. They had had difficulty in finding the course of the Atbara, and their camels had been on the march eight hours when they reached it at a gorge in coarse sandstone rock, where the river forces its way through a narrow cleft about twenty metres wide, between cliffs rising vertically from a profoundly deep pool. There they determined to encamp and spend the next day in attempting to find the junction of the rivers. To the great disappointment of all, they failed to achieve their purpose. The country in which they were is extremely wild. A lion had killed one of their camels in broad daylight. The boy who was in charge of the beasts while they browsed saw the lion creep from the thick undergrowth, spring upon the camel and crush its skull with one blow of the paw. He screamed, and the lion walked off into the scrub in which it had been concealed. The other camels were terrified, and would certainly have bolted in a panic if they had not been hobbled. At night my friends heard hyenas running within a dozen yards of their beds.

They had been much interested in watching the huge flocks of small birds of the linnet kind which assembled half an hour before sunset and went to drink together in the pools of the Atbara. They come with an undulating flight, and, small as they are, the rushing of the wind as they beat the air makes a noise like thunder, and their numbers darken the sky. The weight of the throngs of them which alight at a time bends down the ends of the overhanging branches and twigs to the level of the water. I had seen these flocks many times, and the cunning trick which the crocodile uses in preying upon them. This was a point of Soudanese natural history which did not escape the observation of Sir Samuel Baker.

“Few creatures are so sly and wary as the crocodile. I watch them continually as they attack the dense flocks of small birds that throng the bushes at the water’s edge. These birds are perfectly aware of the danger, and they fly from the attack if possible. The crocodile then quietly and innocently lies upon the surface, as though it had appeared quite by an accident; it thus attracts the attention of the birds, and it slowly sails away to a considerable distance, exposed to their view. The birds, thus beguiled by the deceiver, believe that the danger is removed, and they again flock to the bush, and once more dip their thirsty beaks into the stream. Thus absorbed in slaking their thirst, they do not observe that their enemy is no longer on the surface. A sudden splash, followed by a huge pair of jaws beneath the bush that engulfs some dozens of victims, is the signal unexpectedly given of the crocodile’s return, who has thus slily dived, and hastened under cover of water to his victims. I have seen the crocodiles repeat this manœuvre constantly, they deceive by a feigned retreat, and then attack from below.”[113]

These birds fall a prey not only to crocodiles but to large fish—of what species I am not sure—which rise at them as other kinds rise at flies and snap them off the twigs. Besides, kites scout about the outskirts of the flocks as they fly and pick up the stragglers.

In this part of the country we saw baobab trees only on the banks of the river. Elsewhere, the trees are all mimosas and the undergrowth of the same order.

On the 4th we marched over a dead level of cotton soil to an abandoned village. We had to carry drinking-water, for the well at this place had been filled up by the Dervishes. I have very little doubt that this region is full of malaria in the wet season. Our camp was at the foot of a rocky hill, on which we found abundance of guinea-fowl when we took out our guns late in the afternoon. On the following day we saw herd after herd of ariel as we marched. They were extremely tame, and we passed within ten yards of some of them. The track which we followed brought us to the Atbara again, at the hamlet of Aradeeb. This village was poverty-stricken and almost in a state of famine. The aphis[114] had blighted the entire dhurra crop of the inhabitants. I could not discover how the people lived, but they seemed to bear their trouble uncomplainingly, and here as elsewhere appeared to be sincerely thankful for the peace and safety which the Anglo-Egyptian rule secures to them. In every village to which we came we heard the same remark—“Miri quies,” “the Government is good.” I believe that this expression of opinion is perfectly sincere. If so, it is one of the greatest of the many great triumphs of British administration.

The course of the Atbara is much narrower here than at the point where we had left it, and the pools are deeper. They are not connected by a current in the dry season. I judged that the stream would be from twenty-five to thirty feet deep when the floods are at their height. The river runs, with a shingly bed, through a curious formation of coarse, gritty sandstone, which forms fine cliffs and numerous rocky bars and barriers. The sandstone stratum extends to about two-thirds of the height of the ravines, and the upper third consists of the usual black-cotton soil.

When the heat of the day was over I caught a couple of fish of about three pounds and four pounds weight. They showed some sport and made very good eating. In the evening we should have rested in perfect contentment, after enjoying the luxury of a bath, if insects of various sorts had not swarmed upon us incessantly, crawling and biting. Dupuis gave the sheikh of the village two sheep which we had brought from Zegi. They suffered severely from the heat, and it seemed cruel to drive them further. Besides, we were glad to add something to the store of the villagers in their time of scarcity.

On March 6 we quitted Aradeeb. The old sheikh came to our camp to see us start, and brought us hot coffee in which we ceremonially drank “peace to the village.” Throughout our journey on this day we followed the course of the river, constantly crossing gorges and khors. We reached Sofi at midday. This is the large village near which Sir Samuel Baker dwelt for five months in 1861. He has given a very full and most interesting account of the surrounding district in “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia.” There are rest-huts built of straw at Sofi, and we were glad to take refuge in them, though the temperature within when we arrived was 107° F. However, we were able to remove our helmets, and this we could not do in our tents in the daytime as the sun penetrated the canvas. At night the temperature was 98° F., and a hot wind was blowing strongly. Towards evening I had taken my rod to a pool in the river, but this unpleasant breeze had by that time ruffled the surface smartly, and I got no sport. I think the fish lie quietly in shelter during these storms and do not feed.

Next morning we left Sofi, passed through the village of Tomat, and about midday pitched our camp five miles beyond this place opposite to the “mugra,” that is the junction of the Settite and Atbara rivers. The two streams at the point of meeting have a course about a quarter of a mile broad. The bed of the Atbara is flat and there is much shingle in it. The sandstone formation has come to an end, and the rocks which crop up here and there are of a granitic character. Very little water was flowing in either river, but a larger stream trickled in the Settite than in the other. We did not stir far from camp in the afternoon, but shot sand-grouse as they came to drink in the pools.

During the day we saw tracks of lions, hyenas, and monkeys—grivets and baboons. The soil and the vegetation by the river were such as we had seen on the previous marches. A lion came into the camp during the night. We were sleeping in the open and heard him sniffing round our beds. I sang out to Dupuis, and asked him what was making the noise. He struck a light, and the beast skulked off into the bush. My two friends snatched up their rifles and hurried off to see if he meant to attack the camels. That, no doubt, had been his errand, for he left us alone, though I saw his tracks within a yard of my bed next morning. The camels, as usual, were gathered in circles near the men’s fires. They were hobbled, and I heard them stamping quickly on the ground in their fright, making a strange pattering noise. I believe they only show fear in this way when they smell a lion.

The next day we marched to Khor Katout, a big ravine in the plain of the Atbara, which extends to the river. A hot wind had again arisen, and was carrying quantities of dust with it. The journey was exceedingly unpleasant, and coolness was nowhere to be found. Khor Katout is a well-known haunt of lions, and we heard them roaring in the night. On March 10 we arrived at the point where the road from Gedaref to Kassala joins that on which we were travelling. Here there is a “nocter”—a military post, where five soldiers are stationed. At this place we found a rest-hut, in which we took shelter till three in the afternoon, and then marched on till six, covering about nine miles in the three hours. Since we had left the course of the Atbara we had been obliged to send to the river for water. It was brought in the “fantassis.”[115] This necessity delayed us, and added to the petty troubles of the journey, but we expected to reach the river bed again on the next day. That night my sleeping-place in the open was within three or four yards of the track, and the moon was very bright. It was a most characteristic Eastern sight, when, about nine o’clock, some thirty camels passed along the route at the foot of my bed, slowly and silently. They carried no loads, and were probably returning from Kassala to Gedaref.

On the following day, as we marched, we saw spoor of lions and leopards among the mingled traces of hyenas, jackals, and many antelopes. We camped for the night at a very lonely spot on the Atbara which is called Khashim el Girba.[116] Here the river emerges from a narrow, deep, rocky gorge where the width of its course in places does not exceed one hundred and twenty feet. The steep sides have been smoothed by the terrific rush of water in the rainy season. One of the pools in the bed of this cataract is very large, and uniformly deep. I noticed that earth had lodged behind rocks which jutted from the sides of the gorge, and a growth of mimosa scrub had established itself even in the shallow soil on these ledges. There is no village at Khashim el Girba, but it is a recognized camping-ground. Beyond the narrows the Atbara broadens to a width of half a mile, and its course is divided by an island. Here, at the time of our visit, one could wade across the river bed through a stream which reached the ankles. The scene must be one of singular beauty and grandeur when the floods are coming down from Abyssinia. We heard a lion roaring at night, and there are numbers around this place, but they had plenty of game to prey upon and did not approach the camp.

On the morning of March 12 the Berthon boat was put together, and my companions took her, with some surveying gear, to the great pool in the gorge. I followed and carried my angling-tackle. We rowed about half a mile up the course of the river upon this stretch of water, and then came to the narrowest part of the bed of the rapids. Here a very large rock that has an accessible side juts out into the pool, in a most convenient position for survey work, and my companions began to take measurements, walking up a gravelly incline which seemed to have been placed there for the purpose. Their object was to mark out a gauge which would show the rise and fall of the river during the flood season in this gorge, where, of course, the movement is very clearly seen. My friends made the necessary marks in chalk at the time, and these were afterwards chiselled in the rock by a mason, who was sent down for the purpose. The gauge has since been connected by electric wire with Cairo, and since then in flood time the variations in the depth of the Atbara have been telegraphed every other day to the Irrigation Department in the capital. This has proved to be a very satisfactory arrangement. If an exceptionally heavy flood occurs, the news is sent to Cairo immediately; warnings are then dispatched up and down the Nile so that all concerned may be prepared for the consequent rise of the river, which will take place, say, in six weeks’ time. The Irrigation Department and the landowners look to their culverts and strengthen weak parts of the banks, and all is in readiness when the flood comes. Formerly it was the custom to patrol the riverside night and day when an unusual rush of water was expected, but the risk of disaster in Lower Egypt from this cause has been almost ended by the operation of the dam at Assuan and the precautions now taken.

I tried my luck in the pool, where I saw many huge fish, but they did not bite, though a number smelled at the spoon bait and some struck at it with their tails. I made attempts with other attractions, but the copper spoon appeared to allure them most. Then I cast the line into several pools in vain, but presently, in the shallower part of the big one, hooked a fish of about four pounds’ weight, which fought hard, lashing the water, and plunging and keeping the reel busy. It took me half an hour to play him into a shallow, and in the meanwhile many big fish came up to see what was making the disturbance.

I went back to the deeper part of the pool, and as soon as I had made a cast, hooked one, whose first tug showed that he was a prize worth landing. I feared that I should lose him, as my tackle was hardly strong enough for a heavy catch, so I made up my mind to play him very gently and tire him out, if possible. Away he went and round spun the wheel. He hid under a ledge of rock, and I wound it gently. This started him again, and now he showed sport without a break for twenty minutes. After that, to my surprise, I brought him up quite close to a shallow, and then I saw that I had hooked a real monster and had a good chance of landing him. But it would be useless to try to get him ashore without help, and I shouted and shouted again; for all the time he was making dashes and stopping in exhaustion, and I was playing him in nearer to the shallow. At last one of our boys came to aid me, and I saw that he was eager to help—but the first thing that he did was to rush into the water and grab my line! I yelled to him to leave it alone and strove to explain what he was to do. The next time my prize came into the shallow his strength had nearly failed him, for he rolled over and showed his white belly. It was a moment of excitement when the black fellow slipped into the water and tried to catch hold of the fish’s tail. I did nearly lose him then, but he was almost spent; and after a great deal of shouting I made the boy understand at last that he was to put his thumbs into the fish’s gills on each side. At first he thought I wanted him to put his fingers into its mouth, and was afraid. It took two men to lift my fish on to dry ground, and I could hardly believe that the tackle had held him; I was using a small trout-rod. From snout to tail he measured forty-five inches, and he had a girth of thirty inches. We judged his weight to be between fifty and sixty pounds. This species (lates niloticus) is called by the natives “el baggar” (the cow). It has been described by Sir S. Baker, who also published in “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia” a drawing of a fine specimen which he caught in the Atbara. My photograph shows that the fish which I landed does not altogether correspond to his description. It may be that the Soudanese name covers more than one species, or there may be considerable variation among members of the same species, but I am inclined to think that the illustration in Sir S. Baker’s book was prepared from an imperfect sketch.

During the morning we saw a troop of baboons. For a time they watched us. It was interesting to note their method of scouting. Here and there one would climb a tree, scan the surroundings sharply, and then descend quietly and join the main body. A few minutes later another would renew the observation from another tree. In this manner they keep a constant look-out. Mansfield Parkyns studied the habits of these creatures in Abyssinia and has given a most interesting account of them.

“The monkeys, especially the Cynocephali, who are astonishingly clever fellows, have their chiefs, whom they obey implicitly, and a regular system of tactics in war, pillaging expeditions, robbing cornfields, etc. These monkey forays are managed with the utmost regularity and precaution. A tribe, coming down to feed from their village on the mountain (usually a cleft in the face of some cliff), brings with it all its members, male and female, old and young. Some, the elders of the tribe, distinguishable by the quantity of mane which covers their shoulders, like a lion’s, take the lead, peering cautiously over each precipice before they descend, and climbing to the top of every rock or stone which may afford them a better view of the road before them. Others have their posts as scouts on the flanks or rear; and all fulfil their duties with the utmost vigilance, calling out at times, apparently to keep order among the motley pack which forms the main body, or to give notice of the approach of any real or imagined danger. Their tones of voice on these occasions are so distinctly varied that a person much accustomed to watch their movements will at length fancy—and perhaps with some truth—that he can understand their signals.

“The main body is composed of females, inexperienced males, and the young people of the tribe. Those of the females who have small children carry them on their back. Unlike the dignified march of the leaders, the rabble go along in a most disorderly manner, trotting on and chattering, without taking the least heed of anything, apparently confiding in the vigilance of their scouts. Here a few of the youth linger behind to pick the berries off some tree, but not long, for the rearguard coming up forces them to regain their places. There a matron pauses for a moment to suckle her offspring, and, not to lose time, dresses its hair while it is taking its meal. Another young lady, probably excited by jealousy or by some sneering look or word, pulls an ugly mouth at her neighbour, and then, uttering a shrill squeal highly expressive of rage, vindictively snatches at her rival’s leg with her hand, and gives her perhaps a bite in the hind-quarters. This provokes a retort, and a most unladylike quarrel ensues, till a loud bark of command from one of the chiefs calls them to order. A single cry of alarm makes them all halt and remain on the qui vive, till another bark in a different tone reassures them, and they then proceed on their march.

“Arrived at the cornfields, the scouts take their position on the eminences all round, while the remainder of the tribe collect provision with the utmost expedition, filling their cheek-pouches as full as they can hold, and then tucking the heads of corn under their armpits. Now, unless there be a partition of the collected spoil, how do the scouts feed? for I have watched them several times, and never observed them to quit for a moment their post of duty till it was time for the tribe to return, or till some indication of danger induced them to take flight. They show also the same sagacity in searching for water, discovering at once the places where it is most readily found in the sand, and then digging for it with their hands, just as men would, relieving one another in the work if the quantity of sand to be removed be considerable.”[117]

In the afternoon Crawley shot a wild pig. I walked to the river again, being charmed by the lovely scenery, and as I approached saw numbers of crocodiles scuttle into the water. None was of great size. I doubt if any region in the world affords more varied sport than the valley of the Atbara. The climate is perfectly healthy in the dry season.

On March 13 we struck our camp in the afternoon and soon met the first European whom we had encountered since we left Gallabat. He was a British officer on the way from Kassala to Gedaref, and he made mention of the slave-raids which had taken place since we left the latter place. It seemed likely that the Arab Battalion would be kept busy in holding the marauders in check. In the course of our march we crossed the Atbara, at a point where it is about four hundred yards in breadth. Water that reached our ankles was trickling among the shingle in places. At sundown we arrived at a camping-ground called Fashur, and halted for the night. Our dinner was “bully beef” and pickles—neither a luxurious nor a prudent meal. We were now suffering from heat eczema, which is most irritating in the cool of the night. The baying of a hyena kept me awake for hours, and a bed in the Soudan is not a pleasant place for one who lies on it with an itching skin and listens to that dismal noise.

Our camp at Fashur was very hot and dusty. In the afternoon of the next day we started for a march of twenty-two miles, which would take us half the way from the Atbara to Kassala. We turned our backs to the river and crossed a plain covered by dried grass and mimosa scrub, which is probably a swamp during the rainy season. Our tents were pitched on the open, level ground after an exhausting journey, at the halting-place ordinarily used by those who follow this track. There were no habitations, and we saw none on the road. During the night a detachment of the Arab Battalion passed our encampment, on its way to protect villages against slave-raiders.

On March 15 we arrived at the River Gash just outside Kassala. Its course here lies in a flat, sandy bed, which was quite dry. During the journey—eighteen and a half miles—we saw eight ostriches. The Gash, beyond Kassala, splits into numerous small streams which, even in the rainy season, sink into the ground and disappear completely. Sir Samuel Baker has given an account of the river at that time of the year, which shows its importance in relation to produce and water-supply in the district.

“As we approached within about twenty-five miles of Kassala, I remarked that the country on our left was in many places flooded; the Arabs, who had hitherto been encamped in this neighbourhood during the dry season were migrating to other localities in the neighbourhood of Soojalup and Gozerajup with their vast herds of camels and goats. As rain had not fallen in sufficient quantity to account for the flood, I was informed that it was due to the river Gash, or Mareb, which, flowing from Abyssinia, passed beneath the walls of Kassala, and then divided into innumerable ramifications; it was eventually lost, and disappeared in the porous soil, after having flooded a large extent of country. This cause accounted for the never-failing wells at Soojalup—doubtless a substratum of clay prevented the total escape of the water, which remained at a depth of forty feet from the surface. The large tract of country thus annually flooded by the river Gash is rendered extremely fruitful, and is the resort of both the Hadendowa and the Hallonga Arabs during the dry season, who cultivate large quantities of dhurra and other grain. Unfortunately, in these climates, fertility of soil is generally combined with unhealthiness, and the commencement of the rainy season is the signal for fevers and other maladies.”[118]

We were now close to the curious and isolated eminence called Kassala Hill, which stands within the border-line of the colony of Eritrea. We had seen this towering landmark when we were more than forty miles distant from it, and a whole day’s travelling had seemed to bring us no nearer to it. It offers a splendid sight in the desert, when the setting sun shines on the bare pile of red granite. I was told that in the days when the Italians occupied Kassala, Alpine climbers, with elaborate paraphernalia, had attempted the ascent, but failed in all cases to reach the summit. There is a superstition among the natives that any one who tries to scale the heights will die shortly afterwards, and this belief has been confirmed among them by the death of Colonel Collinson, a former Moudir of the town, who made the last endeavour of which I heard, and succumbed to fever six months afterwards.

We rose early next morning (March 16) and visited the British officers at the Moudirieh. Needless to say we were in touch with a civilized cuisine again, and nothing teaches a man to appreciate a good lunch in a cool room like a journey in the desert. In the afternoon I visited the hospital, which was in charge of Dr. Ensor. It is a most instructive place to a medical man; for here patients are gathered together from all parts of the Eastern Soudan. And it affords a proof of the benefits of Anglo-Egyptian administration that is beyond cavil. I saw cases of many interesting tropical diseases, about which the doctor and I had a long talk in the evening. We dined at the mess of the 11th Battalion of the Egyptian army—once more among our fellow-countrymen.

On the next day we visited Cristo’s, the Whiteley’s of Kassala, and made purchases for the remainder of the journey. At sundown I watched the 11th at tattoo. This regiment had a good band, composed of Soudanese blacks, and it gave one a lively pleasure to hear European music again, though I must admit that they played the Old Hundredth arranged as a march! In the evening the Governor had a dinner-party in honour of St. Patrick’s-day, and a number of officers were present. The place might have been an Indian station instead of Kassala.

On March 18 my companions left the camp very early, accompanied by another English soldier who was visiting the town, to make an inspection of the bed of the Gash above Kassala. In the evening they rode out in the opposite direction to see the end of its course in the tract in which it is absorbed. Possibly the subterranean waters, free from evaporation, will afford an invaluable reservoir for irrigation and the maintenance of stock in the future.

The Governor of Kassala had a small black servant, about thirteen years of age, called Fadl Mullah (Courtesy of the Prophet). The lad had been picked up in a deserted Dervish trench during the battle of the Atbara, where he was found tied to a dead camel and covered with blood. The Governor told us that he was “as sharp as a needle” and most zealous in service, never sleeping in the afternoon, and always running when he was sent upon an errand. He only gave trouble in one way, and this was that once in every two months or so he would come to the Moudir and declare that he had found his father. When the putative parent had disclaimed the bond, and the Governor had said that he would hear no more about it, the boy would acquiesce. But he was sure to discover another “father” a few weeks later.

While we were at Kassala an Italian officer arrived in the town from Eritrea. No one had received notice of his coming, and no one seemed to know what his business was. I sat next to him one night at dinner, and he told me that he was a lieutenant in the Mountain Artillery, and was using his leave to make a journey to the junction of the Atbara and Settite Rivers. He would return thence direct to his battery.

On the 20th we struck our camp and left Kassala in the afternoon, turning our faces towards the Atbara again. We had the pleasure of the company of the Governor and another English officer during the next two days’ journeys, which were hot, tiring, and uneventful. We bade farewell to our friends on the afternoon of the 22nd. On the following day we marched in the direction of the Goz Regeb hill. This singular rise of ground in the desert appeared and disappeared as we moved down imperceptible slopes and then ascended again. We saw the mirage all around us. The soil in this region was shingly. At Goz Regeb there was a two-roomed rest-house. It was of baked mud, and was the most solid building that we had seen since we left Khartoum. We had been told at Kassala that it belonged to the Slavery Department, and that we might make use of it as it was then unoccupied. That night there was a high wind, and among its ludibria, was Crawley’s sponge, which, oddly enough, was found next day in the Atbara about half a mile from our halting-place.

On March 24 Dupuis climbed Goz Regeb Hill and took photographs of the curious balanced granite blocks which stand upon it. At a distance many of them look like figures of men, and at a nearer range like worn statues. But it is certain that they have not been placed in their position by human agency. I am unable to offer any conjecture as to their origin or geological relation to their surroundings.

An incursion of great numbers of Arabs from the south, with their flocks and herds, into the region around Goz Regeb takes place regularly at the commencement of the rainy season. They are then compelled to come to this district to avoid the seroot fly[119]—the tsetse of the Soudan—which is fatal to all live stock except goats. Obviously, this necessary migration is an important fact both in relation to politics and campaigning in the Soudan. Sir S. Baker came in contact with the movement northward.

“The commencement of the rainy season was a warning to all the Arabs of this country, who were preparing for their annual migration to the sandy and firm desert on the west bank of the river, at Gozerajup; that region, so barren and desolate during the hot season, would shortly be covered with a delicate grass about eighteen inches high. At that favoured spot the rains fell with less violence, and it formed a nucleus for the general gathering of the people with their flocks.

“The burning sun, that for nine months had scorched the earth, was veiled by passing clouds; the cattle that had panted for water, and whose food was withered straw, were filled with juicy fodder; the camels that had subsisted upon the dried and leafless twigs and branches, now feasted upon the succulent tops of the mimosas. Throngs of women and children mounted upon camels, protected by the peculiar gaudy saddle hood, ornamented with cowrie shells, accompanied the march: thousands of sheep and goats, driven by Arab boys, were straggling in all directions; baggage-camels, heavily laden with the quaint household gods, blocked up the way; and fine bronzed figures of Arabs, with sword and shield, and white topes or plaids, guided their milk-white dromedaries through the confused throng with the usual placid dignity of their race, simply passing by with the usual greeting, ‘Salaam Aleikum’ (Peace be with you).

“It was the Exodus; all were hurrying towards the promised land—the ‘land flowing with milk and honey,’ where men and beasts would be secure not only from the fevers of the south, but from that deadly enemy to camels and cattle, the fly; this terrible insect drove all before it.”[120]

During the wet season the Mouderir (Government) of Kassala is transferred to new buildings which have recently been erected for its reception at the village of Goz Regeb, and there is a general movement of the Europeans and the wealthier native inhabitants of the town to the same place. The exercise of jurisdiction and the collection of revenue in this region are made difficult by the annual migration of which Sir Samuel Baker wrote. Great numbers of people from different parts of the country collect now, as in former days, within one district in a very short space of time, the comminglement of flocks and herds adds to the confusion, and it is no simple administrative task to deal with a shifting population of this magnitude. If the seroot fly were exterminated, as certain species of noxious African mosquitoes have been, this yearly exodus would no longer take place.

On March 25, we camped beside the river at a pleasant place well shaded by trees. I took my rod to a pool and landed a couple of fish, one about six pounds and the other twelve pounds in weight. They were of the same species as my fifty-pound prize, and both showed fight. They came into shallow water after plenty of coaxing, and I got them ashore without aid. My experience that evening shows that a diary is kept with difficulty in the Soudan. I sat on my bed to write the notes of the day, and held a candle aloft in my left hand to keep it out of reach of the draughts which blew the flame in all directions if I lowered it. With the right hand I used my pencil, and kept clearing away the insects that flew upon my face and swarmed about the light. They seemed to exercise no choice, but flew indifferently into one’s mouth or eyes or into the flame, and they were nastiest when moribund, but still active, after resolutely passing through the fire.

On the 26th we halted, after marching from five in the morning till eleven, at a spot a few miles distant from the river, where there are three rest-houses—one for the chiefs of the party which is travelling, one for the servants, and one to serve as kitchen. Gazelles were plentiful in this district, but we were unable to use our rifles on account of the throng of Arabs, cattle, and sheep in the neighbourhood. It was interesting to watch the manner in which the goats feed at this season. They are tended by half-naked Soudanese boys who carry long crooked staves. With these they pull down the branches of the mimosas, and the goats browse the leaves and twigs. They also stand upon their hind legs, resting their forelegs upon boughs, and so reach the foliage, keeping the branches down with their hoofs, while they eat the succulent new shoots. When they are seen from a distance in this attitude they exactly resemble people. In this region the villages are very small—mere hamlets consisting of a few huts, and very little ground is under cultivation. The land is used for pasture throughout the district, and is apparently common to all comers.

On March 27, we travelled about thirteen miles and halted at a rest-house. We had reached a zone of lower temperature—the maximum at midday was 89°—and the journeys were no longer unpleasant. The riverside scenery is interesting and beautiful in the lower as well as in the higher reaches, and the dome-palms become more numerous as one advances northward and add to the charm of the banks. There was no other vegetation when we saw the country except low-grown mimosas and mimosa-scrub. Sand stretches away on either side from the course of the river, and we crossed few khors after leaving Goz Regeb, for the rainfall in this region is absorbed in the soil and is insufficient to produce torrents which would scour a course towards the stream.

In the afternoon I took my fishing-tackle and tried my fortune in a pool from which I landed two fish, one of about fifteen pounds and one of about five pounds, and a crocodile tried his luck upon the bank and nearly caught a man. Before I set out with my rod I had been warned by the sheikh of the village near which we had encamped that the beasts were very dangerous in this part of the Atbara, and I kept a good look-out for signs of them. It happened, however, that just as I had made a cast, Dupuis, who had been out with his rifle, passed behind me and sang out, “Have you caught anything?” I stepped back briskly, as good luck would have it, and answered, “Have you shot anything?” and at the instant the crocodile lashed at my legs with its tail to strike me into the water. It had been awaiting its chance to take me off my guard, and I had had no inkling of danger. I judged the length of the reptile to be about twelve feet. It certainly had a sound sporting plan and made a smart dash; for it only missed me by a few inches. The tails of these creatures are very powerful, and if the one that had been stalking me had judged distance a little better, I should certainly have been knocked into the pool.

A little later I heard in Cairo that a week after my adventure, a woman, who was filling a water-sack close to the place where I had stood, turned round to answer some men who were exchanging chaff with her; as she did so, a crocodile struck her on the hip with its tail, lashed her some distance into the water, and immediately dragged her under. I was told that they use the tail-trick only with human beings and always seize beasts by the snout. But this account does not quite agree with the observations of Sir S. Baker, who made a very careful study of the habits of the crocodiles in the rivers of the Soudan.

“The crocodile perceives, while it is floating on the surface in mid stream, or from the opposite side of the river, a woman filling her girba,[121] or an animal drinking, etc. Sinking immediately, it swims perhaps a hundred yards nearer, and again appearing for an instant upon the surface, it assures itself of the position of its prey by a stealthy look; once more it sinks, and reaches the exact spot above which the person or animal may be. Seeing distinctly through the water, it generally makes its fatal rush from beneath—sometimes seizing with its jaws, and at other times striking the object into the water with its tail, after which it is seized and carried off.

“The crocodile does not attempt to swallow a large prey at once, but generally carries it away, and keeps it for a considerable time in its jaws in some deep hole beneath a rock, or the root of a tree, where it eats it at leisure.”[122]

The fish which I had caught were of the same species as those which I had previously landed, and proved very good at table in the evening. It was our custom to dress for dinner—in pyjamas.

On March 28 our journey lay through the desert, and reminded us of our first marches towards Gedaref. The river banks with their dome palms were the only landmark. Elsewhere nothing was to be seen but sand, with patches of thinly-growing, very coarse grass or low mimosa scrub here and there, and mirage all around us.

Next day we travelled twenty-one miles to Adarama. On the way we passed at a distance a great zareba prepared by Osman Digna. This was protected by double walls, each about twelve feet high. There is an interval of some three feet between the two. They enclose a square space of sandy ground, and the sides have a length of about three hundred yards. The Dervish leader intended to occupy it after the battle of the Atbara. The defences are now slowly falling to pieces; for the walls are made of sun-dried mud, and as this becomes weatherworn and crumbles the wind carries it away, leaving gaps in the ramparts. The sight symbolizes much. Adarama was formerly one of the large towns of the Soudan, but now consists of a few mud huts. There is also a small garrison of about twenty soldiers. The place lies halfway between Gozerajup and Berber, and has a pleasant rest-house among the palm-trees close to the river. The bed of the Atbara is sandy here, and the average breadth is about four hundred yards.

On March 30 we reached Gumaza. I had the luck to bring down a fine buck gazelle while we were on the road. In the evening Dupuis and I made practice at the crocodiles in the river, and their numbers were shown by the commotion that they made in the pools. The next day we pushed on across the desert towards Berber and slept in the open. On April 1 our road lay through similar country. Sometimes a gazelle would scamper away in the distance, but often nothing was to be seen but sand and mirage. And then suddenly we were confronted by vestiges of civilization. When we were not far from the Atbara battle-field we saw the unmistakable traces of a traction engine. About eleven o’clock dome palms were in sight, and we reached a rest-house beside the river half an hour later. After lunch we heard the jerky puffing of a petrol motor, and rushed out to see what was approaching. It was a heavy engine dragging a car, and the tracks which we had discerned were accounted for. The Englishman in charge told us that he had carried a tombstone to the battlefield; it had been erected on an officer’s grave. He added that he could travel six miles an hour in the desert, but that petrol was very expensive in Berber, where it cost ten shillings a gallon; so he had come to the rest-house to await a troop of forty mules, which were to drag the engine and car back to the town.

On April 2 we reached the bridge over the Atbara—monumentum ære perennius, if Lord Kitchener’s energy and perseverance receive their deserts from posterity. It was strange to us to see a railway train, and hear the whistle of a locomotive once more. On the next day we arrived at Berber. Here we were in full contact with civilization, and here, practically, the duties of the expedition ended, for we followed the ordinary train and steamer route to our journey’s end. Here, too, I will take leave of my reader, hoping that the long excursion from Khartoum has not wearied him, and will only add my conviction that a splendid future lies before the Eastern Soudan, and before Abyssinia, after the clouds have gathered over that country and burst.