The temperature of the preceding days had been singularly fresh, and consequently the plague of flies, from which previous travellers had had to endure so much, did not at all molest us. We were, however, provided on board with all the appliances to protect ourselves from this nuisance, in case of need. Far into the night after these days of prolonged exertion resounded the songs of the Nubians, and the gourd-shells of merissa beer went round amid the native strains of Berber and Dongola. As I did not thoroughly understand the dialect of Dongola, I continually lost the exact purport of the words which were sung. One with the other the Nubians often use this dialect, although they just as frequently speak Arabic. Every now and then as they sung I made them tell me the sense of separate sentences; my listening to them seemed to delight them all, and I heard them saying behind my back, “Pity that the man is not a Mussulman, or at least a Turk, then what a capital fellow he would be!” To which another replied, “Turk, indeed! who ever heard of a Turk troubling himself about our songs? The Franks are worth a thousand of them!” The flattery took its effect upon me, and I was moved at once to deliver a regular homily to my people. Feeling like Cæsar among the pirates, I proceeded to say, “Did you ever hear, you rascals of cow-stealers, about those ancestors of yours, the Ethiopians of Meroë?” “Yes, indeed,” rejoined the Nubians, “for many and many a verse did our ancient poets compose about them, to celebrate their virtue; and they used to declare about the ruler of the gods (for at that time we believed in many gods) if he couldn’t be found in heaven it was because he was lingering amongst his darling Ethiopians on earth. But now, we have Allah, the great Allah; besides Allah we care for no other.”
“All very well;” I replied; “but where is the poet who can sing about his love to you, incorrigible thieves as you are? Just mind then what you are about for the future, and try to show that you are not unworthy of your great ancestors.”
The next day was again employed in unrelaxed endeavours to penetrate the grass-bound channels. The patches of papyrus became at once more frequent and more extensive, and here once again, after being long missed, is found the genuine Nile reed, the “shary” of the ancient Egyptians—the same as the soof of the Bible—which always grows on the shores of the mainland. Somewhat strangely the prevailing river-grass in the upper waters, the Vossia procera, is called in Arabic “Om-Soof,” the mother of wool. This appellation it derives from the peculiar hairy character of its leaf-sheaths. These have the disagreeable quality of covering the entire bodies of those who may be at work in the grass with a thick down of adhesive bristles. The sharpness of these and the scratches they inflict increase the irksomeness of the daily labour at the grass barrier. Still the great prairies amidst which the flood pursues its course afford an inexhaustible pasturage; cattle, sheep, and horses, all graze upon them, and no herbage is there that they prefer to the “Om-Soof.” At the close of the day, we again arrived in open water, and laid up for the night by the left bank, which presented a wide steppe entirely bare of trees.
Up with the sun, with sails hoisted with a moderate breeze in our favour, off we were on the following morning; short-lived, however, was our propitious start. Too soon the open water branched out into a labyrinth of channels, and the bewildered navigators lost all clue as to the actual direction of the stream. The projections of the green islets were always crowned with huge clumps of papyrus, which here grows in detached masses. It probably delights most in quiet waters, and so does not attain to the form of a high unbroken hedge, as on the upper banks of the Gazelle, for here, on account of the numerous stoppages, the stream flows through the narrow channels with extraordinary violence. The strength of the stream often makes towing impracticable, and the sailors often have considerable difficulty in sailing through it to the papyrus bushes, when they want to attach to their solid stems the ropes which are thrown out from their boats. This was the way in which we from sheer necessity sustained the resistance of the current. The depth of the channel was quite sufficient in itself to allow us to proceed, as our vessels drew only three feet of water; but the passage had become so contracted that at sunset we fastened ourselves to the papyrus-stems, quite despairing of ever being able to make further progress in this direction.
It was one of those marvellous nights when the unwonted associations of a foreign clime seem to leave an indelible impression on the memory of the traveller. Here were the dazzling sparks of the glow-worm, glaring upon us like a greeting from our far-off home, and in countless masses glittering upon the dewy stalks of the floating prairie. In the midst of these were fastened our boats, hemmed in as firmly as though they were enclosed by polar ice. Loud was the rushing of the stream as it forced a way along its contracted course; but louder still was the incessant splashing of the emerging hippopotamuses, which had been driven by the vessels, as it were, into a corner, and were at a loss, like ourselves, how to go on or to retreat. Until daybreak their disquietude continued, and it seemed as though their numbers kept increasing, till there was quite a crowd of them. Already during the afternoon they had afforded a singular sight: whilst about half of our men were wading in shallow water and straining at the ropes, they found that they had entirely enclosed no less than six hippopotamuses, whose huge flesh-coloured carcases, dappled with brown, rose above the surface of the water in a way but rarely seen. A cross-fire was opened upon them from several vessels, but I could not make any use of my elephant rifle, because about 200 of our men were towing upon my line of sight. The clumsy brutes snorted and bellowed, and rolled against each other in their endeavours to escape; their ponderous weight bore down the tangle of the water-growth, and the splashing was prodigious.
Four days had now been consumed in this strain and struggle; after a final and unavailing effort on the fifth day, there seemed no alternative but to go back and make trial of another and more northerly branch of this bewildering canal-system. We succeeded in our retrograde movement so far as to attain an open basin, and found that we had only the distance of about 200 feet to get over, in order that we might reach the spot whereat the various streams of the Upper Nile unite. This place on the maps is distinguished by the name of Lake No, but the sailors always call it Mogren-el-Bohoor, i.e., the mouth of the streams. The difficulties which met us here were apparently quite hopeless. Our boats were not only heavily laden with corn, but, formed of the heaviest wood, their build was unusually broad and massive. Yet heavy and unwieldy as they were there was no alternative than literally to drag them over the grass. By dint, however, of main force, before the day was out the task was accomplished. The grass mass itself was lifted and pushed in front, whilst the men turned their backs against the sides of the boats, and pressed them on from behind. I was the only passenger to remain on board, because being fearful of a chill which might result in fever, I could not venture into the water.
What the maps call Lake No is merely the expanded mouth of the meeting waters. The current flowing from the south from the Bahr-el-Gebel passes along its apparent shores, which are projecting masses of papyrus. In order to reach the Gazelle it is necessary to bend westwards along the gradually narrowing lake-basin. At no season of the year is this water otherwise than shallow; even at the time of our retrograde voyage, when the floods were highest, we stranded more than once. Floating islands of papyrus of considerable extent were visible every here and there, and broke the uniformity of the expanse.
The passage which leads to the Gazelle has the essential properties of running water, although the stream itself is in winter scarcely perceptible. The river, however, is surrounded by such a multiplicity of backwaters and waters remaining in old river-beds, that the united volume of such a number of streams as I saw emptying themselves into it, at various times, through some hundreds of miles, could not possibly find its exit through this single channel alone. Petherick, in 1863, at the period when the water-floods were as low as possible, estimated the volume of waters to be rolling on at the rate of 3042 cubic feet a second; but he must have referred simply to the navigable channel at the mouth, without intending to represent that the calculation referred to the entire mass of the waters.
It remains still a matter of dispute which of the two currents should be considered as the main stream. According to analogy, as the Sobat is related to the Blue Nile, so the Bahr-el-Gebel is to the Bahr-el-Abiad, just as the Blue Nile is to the Nile of Egypt.
One of the objects contemplated in my journey was to show the importance of the western affluents of the Nile which unite in the Gazelle; and I have given evidence that, one way and another, they traverse a region of not less than 150,000 square miles. When I mention that in 1863 Speke called the Gazelle “an unimportant branch,”[11] and moreover that Baker has spoken of its magnitude with great depreciation, in reply, I might allude to another interesting fact in geographical annals. Not only did Bruce, a hundred years ago, suppose that he had discovered the sources of the Nile in Abyssinia, just where a hundred years previously they had been marked upon the Portuguese maps; but he represented the Bahr-el-Abiad as an inconsiderable stream, which joined the stream of his discovery at Halfaya, Khartoom at that time being not in existence. But it is absolutely impossible that Bruce could have returned from Sennaar to Berber along the left bank of the Blue Nile, and could have crossed at its mouth from the very spot where Khartoom now stands, without being aware that close behind him there was rolling its waters a stream as broad again as the Blue Nile. The record of his travels does not contain one word about the White Nile. The plain truth is that the White Nile was overlooked and disparaged, because it would have thrown his Blue Nile in the shade.[12] Ismail Pasha was quite right in saying that every fresh African traveller had his own private sources of the Nile; but for my part I am not at all ashamed to confess that I have not found them.
The wind was favourable, and so long as the course maintained a north-westerly direction we made a rapid progress. The main channel gradually contracted, however, and deviated into many abrupt meanderings, which had to be traversed by pushing and driving with poles. Here, too, the apparent banks consisted of floating grass-tangle, though further off the pasturing herds of the Dinka showed the true position of the mainland, whilst the ridge of forest beyond indicated the limit to which the inundations had extended. North of the mouth of the Gazelle the boundaries of the Shillooks and the Dinka meet each other, and the intervening territory is inhabited by the Nueir.
In some places amongst the grass-tangle I made an attempt to botanize, and out of the numerous holes I fished up a variety of most interesting plants. The Gazelle is specially noted for the beauty of its water-lilies (Nymphæa stellata and N. lotus). Blossoms of these, in every variety of hue—white, blue, and crimson—well-nigh everywhere adorn the surface of the water; rooted below they project their long stalks and leaves through the apertures, like fishes, in the winter, to catch the air through holes in the ice. Should any one make a grasp at a blossom and fail to make good his hold, it may happen that the entire plant will make an elastic rebound and disappear beneath the grass. During the afternoon our course was N.W. and W.N.W., which is the general direction of the Gazelle throughout its lower half. The stream became wider again, the banks continuing to be lined by an impenetrable grass jungle. Remarkable dark-coloured water-birds (Plotus melanogaster) are found in considerable numbers upon the shores, intent upon making prey of small fishes. They settle upon the bushes, and one may every now and then be seen to make a sudden dive into the water, bring up a little fish in its beak, and resume its previous perch. Amongst the people of Khartoom this bird is called the “Ghattas,” a name which invested it with a special interest to me as being the name of my temporary protector.
For some few days past, just before sunset, great masses of tiny green flies had made their appearance. Although these were in no respect injurious, yet the buzzing they made and the choking cough which was caused by their numbers were anything but agreeable. Shortly after dark they retreated, only to appear again in the early dawn. Much more pertinacious were the spotty-legged gnats, which now began to torment us when the nights were not cool enough to disperse them. Everybody on board had provided himself for protection with a sack made of calico in which he slept, the result of which was ordinarily a temperature of some 80° Fahr., about the same as a regular vapour-bath. These gnats did not buzz about with so loud a noise, but their sting was much more decided. They might not cause such a lasting itching as some of their northern kindred, but the knack they had of finding a way for their proboscis through the thickest cotton till it reached one’s skin, made it only possible to keep them off by means of mosquito-nets. But altogether I reckoned this visitation as hardly worth the notice of a traveller who had grown up amongst the gnats of the teeming marshes of the north.
The Bahr-el-Ghazal may in some respects be compared to the Havel as it flows between Potsdam and Brandenburg; the two rivers are not dissimilar in their excess of floating vegetation, composed of plants which, to a great extent, are identical in their generic character. Frequently the breadth is not more than enough for a single vessel, but the depth could not be fathomed by our longest poles, and so revealed what was the enormous volume of water concealed by the carpet of grass for two hundred paces on either hand. What ordinarily appears to be land assumes at high water the aspect of an extensive lake. The general uniformity of level prevents any extensive range of vision; but I had only to mount the roof of my cabin, and, by observing the distance between the woods that skirted the prospect, I could approximately estimate the width of the river-bed. Nowhere did it appear to me to extend, like the valley of the Egyptian Nile, to a breadth of eight miles; and certainly, without further evidence, I cannot agree with former travellers, who describe it as being a lake or marsh of which the boundaries are unlimited.
Neither crocodiles nor hippopotamuses are here to be observed. The absence of settled river-banks prohibits the Upper Nile from being the resort of the former; the deficiency of sand-banks would permit no life to the latter, which therefore make good their retreat to the narrower streams of the interior.
The second day of our voyage along the river brought us to the district tenanted by the Nueir. We found them peacefully pasturing their flocks and herds beside their huts, and betraying nothing like fear. They had been represented to me as an intelligent people; seeming to know what they had to expect or to dread, they were disposed for friendly intercourse with the Khartoom people, who, in their turn, were not inclined to commit any act of violence upon their territory. Two years and a half later, at the period of our return, all this was unfortunately changed, and landing was impossible.
Most of the Nueir villages lie on a spot where the Gazelle makes a bend from a north-east to a south-westerly direction. As we were making our way past the enclosures which lie on either side of the stream, my attention was arrested by the sight of a number of some of the most remarkable birds that are found in Africa. Strutting along the bank, they were employing their broad bills to grope in the slimy margins of the stream for fish. The bird was the Balæniceps Rex, a curiosity of the rarest kind, known amongst the sailors as the Abu-Markoob (or slipper-shape), a name derived from the peculiar form of its beak. It scientific name is due to the disproportionate magnitude of its head. Before 1850 no skins of this bird had been conveyed to Europe; and it appeared unaccountable to naturalists how a bird of such size, not less than four feet high, and of a shape so remarkable, should hitherto have remained unknown; they were not aware that its habitat is limited to a narrow range, which it does not quit. Except by the Gazelle and in the central district of the Bahr-el-Gebel, the Balæniceps has never been known to breed.
The first that appeared I was fortunate enough to hit with a rifle ball, which wounded it in its back, and brought it down: we measured its wings, and found them to be more than six feet across. Another was struck, but although it was pursued by an active party of Nubians, it effected an escape. As generally observed, the bird is solitary, and sits in retired spots; its broad beak reclines upon its crop, and it stands upon the low ground very much as it is represented in the accompanying illustration: it rarely occupies the ant-hills which every here and there rise some feet above the vegetation. The great head of the bird rises over the tall blades of grass and ever betrays its position. Its general structure would class it between a pelican and a heron, whilst its legs resemble those of a maraboo; it snaps with its beak, and can make a clattering noise like the stork. This Balæniceps would seem to furnish a proof that not everything in nature is perfectly adapted to its end, for when the birds are full grown, they never have their beaks symmetrical. The upper part does not correspond with the lower; the two members fall apart, and, like an old woman’s jaws, go all awry. The colour of their plumage in winter is a dingy light brown, their wings are black, and they seem to fly with difficulty, carrying their ungraceful heads upon their necks at full stretch, like a heron. They build in the rainy season, always close to the open water, forming their great nests of ambatch-stalks.
At the next groups of huts we made a stop, and did some bartering with the Nueir, who brought sheep and goats for exchange. Here, in the heart of the Nueir population, in a district called Nyeng, we fixed our quarters until the 16th. I made use of the time to spend the whole day in my ambatch-canoe, collecting the water-plants from the river.
The Nueir are a warlike tribe, somewhat formidable to the Dinka. They occupy a territory by the mouths of the two tributaries of the White Nile, and are evidently hemmed in by hostile neighbours. In most of their habits they resemble alike the Shillooks and the Dinka, although in their dialect they differ from both. The pasturage of herds is their chief pursuit. The traveller who would depict their peculiarities must necessarily repeat much of what he has already recorded about the other tribes. With regard to apparel it will suffice to say that the men go absolutely naked, the women are modestly girded, and the girls wear an apron formed of a fringe of grass. Their hair is very frequently dyed of a tawny-red hue by being bound up for a fortnight in a compo of ashes and cow-dung; but occasionally it is cut quite short. Some of them weave cotton threads into a kind of peruke, which they stain with red ochre, and use for decoration where natural locks are not abundant. Their huts resemble those of the Dinka; always clean, the dwellings are surrounded by a trampled floor; the sleeping-place inside is formed of ashes of cow-dung, burnt perfectly white, and is warmer and better than any mosquito-net.
Nowhere in the world could a better illustration be afforded of the remarkable law of Nature which provides that similar conditions of existence should produce corresponding types amongst all ranks of animal creation. It does not admit of a doubt that men and beasts in many districts of which the natural features are in marked contrast to the surrounding parts do exhibit singular coincidences, and that they do display a certain agreement in their tendencies. The confirmation of this resemblance which is offered by the Shillooks, the Nueir, and the Dinka is very complete; these tribes, stationed on the low marshy flats which adjoin the river, are altogether different in habit to those which dwell among the crags and rocks of the interior. “They give the impression,” says my predecessor Heuglin, “that amongst men they hold very much the same place that flamingoes, as birds, hold with reference to the rest of the feathered race;” and he is right. The dwellers in these marsh-lands would probably have a web between their toes were it not compensated by the flatness of their feet and the unusual prolongation of the heel. Another remarkable similarity is the way in which, like the birds of the marshes, they are accustomed for an hour at a time to stand motionless on one leg, supporting the other above the knee. Their leisurely long stride over the rushes is only to be compared to that of a stork. Lean and lanky limbs, a long, thin neck on which rests a small and narrow head, give a finishing touch to the resemblance.
Leaving the last dwellings of the Nueir behind us, we arrived on the following day at the first wood which is to be observed on the banks of the Gazelle. Ant-hills of more than ten feet high are here scattered in every direction, and alone break the universal levelness of the plain. They are not unfrequently found in the heart of a thicket, because originally the stem of a tree served as the central axis of the earthy structure. Dead and withered though this had been, it sprouted out afresh from the roots, provided that these had been uninjured by the passages of the ants. Vestiges of the floods are traceable upon them, and show that the average difference between the highest and lowest level of the water is from three to four feet.
The river wends its way through charming wood-scenery, meandering amidst groves gay with the red bindweed (Ipomæa), amidst which now and then a tall tamarind uprears itself. Here I met with a fresh representative of the flora of Central Africa in the tree-like Euphorbia with its arms outspread like candelabras. This can be distinguished from the Euphorbia of the Abyssinian highlands, mentioned in Chapter I., by the involved confusion of its branches. Its eccentric shapes would seem to fill a place in Africa which in America is supplied by the order of the Cactaceæ; it also serves like the Mexican Cereus for the enclosure of estates, as slips taken from its branches readily take root in the ground. The sportsman could here reckon on a good bag, for the widow-ducks which swarmed upon the papyrus were brought down at every shot, and were serviceable for the table. Our people were all expert swimmers, and they continually fished out of the stream the birds which were struck, while their sport in no way ever hindered the progress of our craft.
The wind next day was not propitious, and the boats were obliged to stay beside a grass tangle by the bank. I made use of the detention to enjoy a little fishing for water-plants. The water-lilies surpassed all description, and would adorn any Victoria-house. Unfortunately I could not succeed in transferring to this region the queen of the waters. The Victoria regia seed, which I had brought for the purpose in pots, would never germinate; perhaps, although it was preserved in water, the heat of my cabin during my voyage was too great and destroyed its vitality. I can only boast of having naturalised in this district of Central Africa two plants as representatives of culture in Europe—the sun-flower and the tomato. The river, which is ordinarily about 300 feet wide, abounds in thick masses of potamogeton, trapa, and yellow ottelia. The seeds of this last plant much resemble the sesamum, growing like the seeds of the Nymphæa in a slimy gelatinous mass; they are collected by the natives, and, after being dried, are pounded down into a sort of meal, which the sailors of Khartoom assured me was a wholesome and excellent remedy for indigestion. It surprised me very much to learn that the eatableness of the water-nut (Trapa) was unknown to the Dinka, although it grew in such abundance on the river.
We landed, towards evening, close below the mouth of the Bahr-el-Arab in a forest of lofty trees, where the West African Stephegyne appears to find its extreme eastern limit. The wood of this species of Rubiaceæ is somewhat soft and light, but its branches make masts for the boats of a strength and straightness unequalled by any other growth in these countries, where wood adapted for erections of any sort is so notably scarce.
The Gazelle, at the place where the Bahr-el-Arab empties itself, has a width of about 1000 feet. This mouth is itself not much less, but just above the mouth the condition of the Gazelle is so different that it must be evident to every sailor that the Bahr-el-Arab plays a very important part in contributing to the entire system.
What the sailors mean by the Bahr-el-Ghazal is really only the channel as far as they navigate it; to them it is not a stream, in a hydrographical sense, such as either the Bahr-el-Arab or the Bahr-el-Dyoor. It is only at the mouth of the Bahr-el-Arab that there first appears a measurable current, and the fairway, which up to that point is not above 15 feet deep, is subsequently never less than twice that depth. After getting every information I could in the remotest west, I come to the conclusion that the Bahr-el-Arab is the main stream. Even at a distance of 300 miles above its mouth it is found throughout the year as a stream which cannot be forded, but must be crossed in boats, whilst the Bahr-el-Dyoor cannot be traced at all at so great a distance from its union with the Nile. The plains through which the Gazelle flows are too level to allow of any recognition at first sight of the true limits of the territory subject to its inundations. Any one, however, who is familiar with the character of the vegetation of the country, will easily detect symptoms from which he could form a tolerably correct opinion. Accordingly, on my return journey in 1871, I gathered ample evidence to satisfy myself that the Gazelle, associated as it is with the Bahr-el-Arab and the Bahr-el-Dyoor, is a river just as truly as either of the others. The fall of the water in the Gazelle is only produced by the torrent driven from the south and west, and may hardly admit of being estimated, since the entire difference measured between Khartoom and the Meshera (the termination of the navigable course) does not altogether amount to 100 feet.
An important change in the scenery of the shores supervenes upon a further progress. The lake-like surface of the water gives to the Bahr-el-Ghazal the semblance at first sight of being merely an extensive backwater. That just above the mouth of a stream so considerable as the Bahr-el-Arab there should be this abundance of water at the very time of the year when it is at its lowest ebb, is a circumstance which cannot fail to confirm the supposition which I entertained when I entered the Gazelle: I was certain that the narrow channel through which we travelled in the district of the Nueir could not possibly be the entire river; and there surely must exist to the north of the river other not inconsiderable arms, which are inaccessible on account of the denseness of the river grass.
Unhindered by any material obstacles, our course now lay between floating islands, which were partly adorned with variegated blossoms, and partly loaded with a luxuriant growth of splendid ferns. The poles sufficed to keep the boats from the floating vegetation, the masses of which were as unyielding as though they had been sheets of ice. It was evident by the motion of these masses, that the current, though it flowed languidly, had a continued progress towards the east. The river only varies in depth from about 8 to 14 feet. The bed presents the appearance of a meadow, in which little bright tortoises enjoy their pasture. This submerged sward is composed exclusively of the Ethiopian vallisneria, of which the female blossoms, affixed to spiral peduncles, rise from a fathom deep to the surface of the stream, their coiling stalks extending far and wide. Very wonderful is this plant in its sexual development; its northern sisters haunt the waters of the Po and of the Rhone, and have furnished a theme for the admiration of the poet.
Far away, on either side, beyond the flooded borders of the grassy river-bed could be discerned, at a distance of a league or two, large tracts of forest land; and between the river and the line of woods which stretched to the horizon there could be observed the cumbrous shapes of elephants going to and fro, and demonstrating that there at least the land was firm.
The channel, which we rapidly passed along under favourable breezes, became continually broader, and the nearer we approached the river source, the more the banks seemed to recede from each other. The sight of men, fishing out of canoes formed by a couple of hollow stems being fastened together, made us aware that we were approaching the dwellings of the Dinka, and soon after we came upon the enclosures for cattle surrounded by low thatch huts upon the left bank. Sailing on towards the south and south-east, we approximated to the limit of our voyage. A great cracking up in the air revealed to us that the sailyard had once more broken, so that it was only by main force, by pushing and pulling, that we managed to reach a large Dinka village, which lay on the west, almost at the extremity of the stream. Here was the cul-de-sac, to which the Dinka have given the name of the Kyt. We had quite recently passed the mouth of the Dyoor, which appears to separate into several streams; but if my attention had not been called to this circumstance by the Reis, I should certainly never have observed it, on account of the uniform features of that watery region. In our delight at having so quickly, and without misadventure, accomplished our passage up the Gazelle, we had a night of feasting and merry-making.
The remainder of the journey was soon completed, and in the early morning hours of the 22nd of February we found ourselves at the Meshera, the landing-place of all who resort to the Gazelle. This place is marked in the maps as Port Rek, called so from the Rek, a section of the Dinka. These Rek people were the first allies among the natives that the new comers had acquired, and they had been accustomed to provide them with bearers long before the Khartoom merchants had established any settlements in the interior. Deducting the days on which we had not proceeded, our boats had taken thirty days in going from Khartoom to the Meshera. I had been anxious to make a good investigation of the river banks; otherwise the voyage might easily be accomplished in twenty days.
Above the mouth of the Dyoor, so difficult of access, the deep channel is continued for a space of sixteen miles, when it forms the cul-de-sac which I have mentioned: there is not the least current when the waters are all at their height; but in March and April there may at some places be observed a retrograde motion of the stream. It is manifestly an ancient bed of the Dyoor, or of some river which in the lapse of time has changed its course. It is not easy to explain it, but the stream seemed to me, as I think I could farther demonstrate, the navigable overflow of some inland liman, that is, the receptacle of a number of considerable rivulets meeting together, something like what the delta of the Canton river would be, if it could be levelled, filled up, and carried away inland. The uniform depth of the channel might seem to originate in some freak in the conformation of the ground, or of the masses of vegetation, which are irregularly scattered about; but really it is only an indication of a condition of things long passed away, when the mainstream flowed through better defined and more contracted borders.
Let us for a moment review the impressions we have gained. The volume of water brought by the Gazelle to swell the Nile is still an unsolved problem. In the contention as to which stream is entitled to rank as first-born among the children of the great river god, the Bahr-el-Ghazal has apparently a claim in every way as valid as the Bahr-el-Gebel. In truth, it would appear to stand in the same relation to the Bahr-el-Gebel as the White Nile does to the Blue. At the season when the waters are highest, the inundations of the Gazelle spread over a very wide territory; about March, the time of year when they are lowest, the river settles down, in its upper section, into a number of vast pools of nearly stagnant water, whilst its lower portion runs off into divers narrow and sluggish channels. These channels, overgrown as they look with massy vegetation, conceal beneath (either in their open depth, or mingled with the unfathomable abyss of mud) such volumes of water as defy our reckoning. The Gazelle then it is which gives to the White Nile a sufficient impetus to roll its waters onward; subsequently the Bahr-el-Gebel finds its way and contributes a more powerful element to the progress of the stream. It must all along be borne in mind that there are besides two other streams, the Dyoor and the Bahr-el-Arab, each of them more important than any tributary of the Bahr-el-Gebel; and these bring in their own influence. To estimate aright the true relation of all these various tributaries is ever opening up the old question in a new light.
The ramifications above the mouth of the Bahr-el-Arab are very complicated, and must be very imperfectly traced on our present maps. The map issued by Lejean has many details, but must be accepted with caution, and requires us to remember that paper is patient of error as well as of truth. Whoever has traversed the lakes (so to call them) to the west of the Bahr-el-Arab, has, almost immediately beyond the mouth of the Dyoor, come upon the winding channel known as “the Kyt.” The shores of the Kyt are firm; there are detached groups of papyrus driven by the wind sometimes to its one bank, and sometimes to the other: its waters rise and fall, but have no other apparent motion; it widens at its extremity into a basin of papyrus, which was now open, but which in 1863 was entirely choked by ambatch. Heuglin, at that date, discerned, as he thought, in the dwindled and distorted stems a prognostication of an approaching disappearance of the ambatch; and from 1869 to 1871 there was no trace of it, Various openings are made by the water towards the west among the masses of papyrus, which enclose a labyrinth of little wooded islets.[13] One of these islands is the resting-place for the boats, and close at hand the voyagers establish their temporary camp. Being surrounded on every side by the water, all is secure from any hostile attack. The regular landing-place is on the southern shore of the basin, and thence commence the expeditions to the interior.
Such is the channel which, from the times of the earliest explorers, which appear to extend from the date of Nero’s centurions, mentioned by Seneca, up to the mercantile enterprises and voyages of discoveries of the last ten years, has always brought boats to that cul-de-sac, called by the Nubian sailors their Meshera. The first boat, which actually entered the Gazelle, was that of a Khartoom merchant, named Habeshy, in 1854; two years later followed Consul Petherick, the first to open mercantile transactions with the tribes resident in these remote regions.
At that time, when nothing was known either of the Dyoor or of the Bahr-el-Arab, it must have been no small surprise to the first explorers to see a stream so large suddenly end amongst a labyrinth of small islands, without any navigable affluent. Only by the help of a native pilot was such a discovery possible.
I was compelled to linger out the remainder of February and the greater part of March in camp upon the little island, pending the arrival of the bearers who were to help me onwards to Ghattas’s Seriba. I was happy in escaping any ill effects such as might be dreaded from a protracted residence by this unhealthy river. I attributed my immunity in great measure to the precautionary use of quinine. Although by my daily occupations, botanising in swamps and continually wading amongst papyrus clumps, I had been more exposed to malaria than many others, I experienced no sickness. I swallowed every day, in three doses, eight or nine grains of quinine, enclosed for that purpose in gelatine capsules; this method is to be strongly recommended to every traveller, since the intense bitterness of the medicine taken in its undisguised form may excite a degree of nausea which, I can well believe, may contribute its part to a liability to fever. This treatment I continued, without its having any ill effect upon my constitution, until I could dispense with it in the purer air of the interior. I suppose, since this is not an universal experience, that the effects of the alkaloids may vary with different patients, and therefore it would be well for every one first to test the susceptibility of his individual constitution.
It is only too well known how many victims this treacherous climate has already claimed; it may without exaggeration be maintained, that half the travellers who have ventured into the swamps have succumbed to fever. The highest mortality was in the settlements of the Austrian mission in Gondokoro and St. Cross, now long since abandoned. Miss Tinné’s expedition of 1863 suffered the loss of five out of its nine European members, among them my unfortunate predecessor in the botanical investigation of this district, Dr. Steudner, who died suddenly quite at the beginning of the journey. Heuglin, too, lost the greater part of his valuable time in continual relapses of fever. The foundations of these miserable attacks had probably been laid in the miasma, of which the traveller had inhaled the poison during a protracted sojourn in the Meshera. The latest Job’s comfort, which had most unnerved me, had come just as I was embarking at Trieste. The French Geographical Society had, a few months previously, sent out Le Saint, a naval officer, on a voyage of discovery, having for its object the same district as myself, viz., the Niam-niam countries. His outward journey had been much lengthened by the grass obstruction in the Giraffe stream, and he died before he entered the country in which his more extended wanderings were designed to commence.
Before quitting the Meshera (the only landing-place for expeditions starting from the Gazelle) I will make a few observations on the natural character, scenery, and inhabitants of the region of this unique island world.
The Meshera had been reached by eighteen different boats belonging to Khartoom merchants, and these now lay, half-buried in mud and clay, firmly wedged in the jungle of papyrus. Every new comer could only by great exertions procure a fresh resting-place. For that purpose they proceeded in the following way: they backed their boat a little into the open water, and anchored; then a rope was fastened to a strong mass of papyrus-roots, which it towed with its loosened clods attached into open water, until the breeze carried over the entire floating mass to the opposite side of the basin. Thus was obtained one artificial Delos after another. The access to the bank is, however, still left blocked up by the compact border of papyrus thus conveyed across. By means of fire and hatchet avenues are then opened, and the long roots of papyrus are piled upon the elastic sward of its stubble until an available pathway is complete.
Most of the islands are adorned by graceful masses of bushes and by light groves of the larger trees, but the hatchet of strangers every year is altering this condition of things. In spite of all the uniformity of the tall papyrus bushes, and notwithstanding the burnt and dry appearance of the steppe-grasses, there is no lack, even in the mild winter of this little island-world, of the charms of scenery. The dark crowns of the evergreen tamarind stand out in sharp outline against the bare rugged branches of the acacias in their grey winter garb, between which the eccentric shapes of the candelabra-euphorbiæ, closely interlaced, bound the horizon in every direction, and form, as often as the eye wanders over the neighbouring islands, a fine gradation of endless shades of colour. This is especially noticeable in the early morning, when at sunrise a heavy mist hangs over the damp flats, and sometimes here, sometimes there, sets limits to the prospect, in a way that would lend enchantment to any scenery.
Protected by the endless ramifications of the marshes against any attacks of dangerous quadrupeds from the mainland, the sojourner here had only the most determined of all depredators to fear, namely, man himself. But even this fear was not really great. Nowhere on the face of the earth is a country more surrendered to robbery and lawlessness than this district of Africa; but still, as ever, one form of mischief balances another: man is a match for man; and so it results that the stranger may find repose and security here as much as elsewhere. The natives, who occupy the entire land in a wide circumference from the Meshera, form a portion of the great Dinka family, whose extreme outposts extend eastwards towards the Egyptian borders of Upper Sennaar, and whose tribes are counted by the hundred.
One of the most influential personages of the neighbouring race of the Lao was a woman, already advanced in years, of the name of Shol. She played an important part as a sort of chief in the Meshera, her riches, according to the old patriarchal fashion, consisting of cattle. As wealthy as cattle could make her, she would long since have been a prey to the Nubians, who carry on their ravages principally in those regions, if it had not chanced that the intruders needed her for a friend. They required a convenient and secure landing-place, and the paramount necessity of having this induced them to consider plunder as a secondary matter. They provided in this way, that single boats, even after all others had taken their departure, could safely remain in the Meshera throughout the rainy season without incurring any risk from the natives. The boatmen accordingly respect the bank of the river which is the resort of Shol’s herds; whilst Shol, on her part, uses all her influence to retain her tribe on friendly terms with the strangers. The smallest conflict might involve the entire loss of her property.
The old Shol did not delay, but the very first day came to my boat to visit me. On account of the colour of my skin, the Nubians had told her that I was a brother of the Sigñora (Miss Tinné). My pen fails in any attempt to depict her repulsiveness. Her naked negro skin was leathery, coarse, and wrinkled; her figure was tottering and knocked-kneed; she was utterly toothless; her meagre hair hung in greasy locks; round her loins she had a greasy slip of sheepskin, the border of which was tricked out with white beads and iron rings; on her wrists and ankles she had almost an arsenal of metal, links of iron, brass, and copper, strong enough to detain a prisoner in his cell; about her neck were hanging chains of iron, strips of leather, strings of wooden balls, and heaven knows what lumber more. Such was old Shol.
A soldier, who had formerly been a Dinka slave, acted as interpreter. For the purpose of impressing me with a due sense of the honour of the visit and in the hope of getting a present, he began to extol Shol and to enlarge upon the multitude of her cattle. All the sheep-farms, of which the smoke rose so hospitably to the stranger, were hers; hers were all the bullock runs along the river banks; the murahs which extended in every direction of the compass without exception, were hers; she had at least 30,000 head of cattle; in addition to which I could form no conception of the iron and copper rings and chains which filled her stores.
After this introduction the conversation turned upon Miss Tinné, who remained fresh upon the memory of all. Her liberality in making presents of beads had secured her a fame like Schiller’s “Mädchen aus der Fremde,” the spring, who brought a gift for every one. The old Shol could not refrain from expressing her surprise that Miss Tinné should be unmarried; as an African she could not comprehend how a lady that was rich could be without a husband.