In the Heart of Africa | Page 9

in Nature's poverty, was most poor: no bush could
boast a leaf, no tree could throw a shade, crisp gums crackled upon the
stems of the mimosas, the sap dried upon the burst bark, sprung with
the withering heat of the simoom. In one night there was a mysterious
change. Wonders of the mighty Nile! An army of water was hastening
to the wasted river. There was no drop of rain, no thunder-cloud on the
horizon to give hope. All had been dry and sultry, dust and desolation

yesterday; to-day a magnificent stream, some five hundred yards in
width and from fifteen to twenty feet in depth, flowed through the
dreary desert! Bamboos and reeds, with trash of all kinds, were hurried
along the muddy waters. Where were all the crowded inhabitants of the
pool? The prison doors were broken, the prisoners were released, and
rejoiced in the mighty stream of the Atbara.
The 24th of June, 1861, was a memorable day. Although this was
actually the beginning of my work, I felt that by the experience of this
night I had obtained a clew to one portion of the Nile mystery, and that,
as "coming events cast their shadows before," this sudden creation of a
river was but the shadow of the great cause. The rains were pouring in
Abyssinia! THESE WERE SOURCES OF THE NILE!
The journey along the margin of the Atbara was similar to the route
from Berber, through a vast desert, with a narrow band of trees that
marked the course of the river. The only change was the magical
growth of the leaves, which burst hourly from the swollen buds of the
mimosas. This could be accounted for by the sudden arrival of the river,
as the water percolated rapidly through the sand and nourished the
famishing roots.
At Gozerajup, two hundred and forty-six miles from Berber, our route
was changed. We had hitherto followed the course of the Atbara, but
we were now to leave that river on our right, while we travelled about
ninety miles south-east to Cassala, the capital of the Taka country, on
the confines of Abyssinia, and the great depot for Egyptian troops.
The entire country from Gozerajup to Cassala is a dead flat, upon
which there is not one tree sufficiently large to shade a full-sized tent.
There is no real timber in the country; but the vast level extent of soil is
a series of open plains and low bush of thorny mimosa. There is no
drainage upon this perfect level; thus, during the rainy season, the
soakage actually melts the soil, and forms deep holes throughout the
country, which then becomes an impenetrable slough, bearing grass and
jungle. No sooner had we arrived in the flooded country than my wife
was seized with a sudden and severe fever, which necessitated a halt
upon the march, as she could no longer sit upon her camel. In the

evening several hundreds of Arabs arrived and encamped around our
fire. It was shortly after sunset, and it was interesting to watch the
extreme rapidity with which these swarthy sons of the desert pitched
their camp. A hundred fires were quickly blazing; the women prepared
the food, and children sat in clusters around the blaze, as all were wet
from paddling through the puddled ground from which they were
retreating.
No sooner was the bustle of arrangement completed than a gray old
man stepped forward, and, responding to his call, every man of the
hundreds present formed in line, three or four deep. At once there was
total silence, disturbed only by the crackling of the fires or by the cry of
a child; and with faces turned to the east, in attitudes of profound
devotion, the wild but fervent followers of Mahomet repeated their
evening prayer. The flickering red light of the fires illumined the
bronze faces of the congregation, and as I stood before the front line of
devotees, I tools off my cap in respect for their faith, and at the close of
their prayer made my salaam to their venerable Faky (priest); he
returned the salutation with the cold dignity of an Arab.
On the next day my wife's fever was renewed, but she was placed on a
dromedary and we reached Cassala about sunset. The place is rich in
hyenas, and the night was passed in the discordant howling of these
disgusting but useful animals. They are the scavengers of the country,
devouring every species of filth and clearing all carrion from the earth.
Without the hyenas and vultures the neighborhood of a Nubian village
would be unbearable. It is the idle custom of the people to leave
unburied all animals that die; thus, among the numerous flocks and
herds, the casualties would create a pestilence were