Читать книгу The Life of Captain Sir Richard F. Burton (Vol. 1&2) - Lady Isabel Burton - Страница 32

Richard returned up the Red Sea to Egypt, and much enjoyed the rest and safety for a short time, and then returned to Bombay, his leave being up; but the wandering fever was still upon him, and as the most difficult place for a white man to enter was Harar, in Somali-land, Abyssinia, he determined that that should be his object. It is inhabited by a very dangerous race to deal with, and no white man had ever penetrated to Harar. The first white man who went to Abyssinia was kept prisoner till he died. The East India Company had long wished to explore it, because Berberah, the chief port of Somali-land, is the safest and best harbour on the western side of the Indian Ocean—far better than Aden. They went to work with that strange mixture of caution and generosity with which they treated those of their servants who stepped out of what Richard calls their "quarter-deck" routine, that is, to let him go as a private traveller, and the Government to give him no protection, but would allow him to retain the same pay that he would enjoy whilst on leave. Dr. Carter and others refused to do more than to coast along in a cruiser.

Richard applied for Lieutenant Herne, of the 1st Bombay Fusiliers, Lieutenant Stroyan, Indian Navy, and Lieutenant Speke, 46th Bengal Native Infantry. Herne was distinguished by his surveys, photography, and mechanics on the west coast of India, in Scinde, and on the Punjaub rivers; Stroyan as amateur surveyor; and Speke, collector of the Fauna of Tibet and the Himalayas and sportsman. Assistant-Surgeon Ellerton Stocks, botanist, traveller, and a first-rate man in all ways, died before the expedition started.

Jealousy, as usual, immediately rose up in opposition. First, Sir James Outram, Political Resident at Aden, called it a tempting of Providence, and Dr. Buist, the editor of the Bombay Times, was told to run down the Somali Expedition, in which task he was assisted by the unpopular chaplain. This was not very gratifying to four high-spirited men; so, instead of using Berberah as a base of operations, then westward to Harar, and then south-east to Zanzibar, the Resident changed the whole scheme and made it fail. Herne was to go to Berberah, where he was joined later by Stroyan. Speke was to land in a small harbour called Bunder Guray, and to trace the watershed of the Wady Nogal, to buy horses and camels, and collect red earth with gold in it; but his little expedition failed through his guide's treachery. Herne and Stroyan succeeded. Richard reserved for himself the post of danger. Harar was as difficult to enter as Mecca. It is the southernmost masonry-built settlement in North Equatorial Africa. He would go as an Arab merchant. Harar had never been visited, has its own language, its own unique history and traditions. The language was unwritten, but he wrote a grammar, and a vocabulary in which the etymology is given, and there he had enough savage anthropology to interest him. He writes—

"In the first place, Berberah is the true key of the Red Sea, the centre of East African traffic, and the only safe place for shipping upon the Western Erythræan shore, from Suez to Guardafui, backed by lands capable of cultivation, and by hills covered with pine and other valuable trees, enjoying a comparatively temperate climate, with a regular, though thin monsoon. This harbour has been coveted by many a foreign conqueror. Circumstances have thrown it into our arms, and if we refuse a chance, another and a rival nation will not be so blind. [We have since given it away, and kept the far inferior Aden.] We are bound to protect the lives of subjects on this coast. In 1825 the crew of the Mary Ann brig was treacherously murdered by the Somal. They continued in that state, and if to-morrow a Peninsular and Oriental Company steamer by any chance fell into their power, it would be the same history. Harar, scarcely three hundred miles distance from Aden, is a counterpart of the ill-famed Timbuctoo. A tradition exists that with the entrance of the first Christian, Harar will fall. All therefore who have attempted it were murdered. It was therefore a point of honour with me to utilize my title of Haji, by entering this City, visiting its Ruler, and returning in safety, after breaking the Guardian's spell."

He starts for Harar in Somali-land.

This exploration of Harar was one of Richard's most splendid and dangerous expeditions, and, for some reason or other, the least known; the reason being, as I think, that his pilgrimage to Mecca was still making a great noise, and that the Crimean War had cropped up, deadening the interest in all personal adventure. He therefore thought himself fortunate in being able to persuade Lord Elphinstone, Governor of Bombay, to patronize an expedition into Somali-land.

He was away four months. The journey was useful; at least, it has proved so to the Egyptians, to the English, and now to the Italians. He sailed away, leaving Herne, Stroyan, and Speke, each engaged on his respective work, and arrived at Zayla.

"My ship companions," he writes, "were the wildest of the wild, and as we came into port Zayla a barque came up to give us the bad news. Friendship between the Amir of Harar and the Governor of Zayla had been broken; the road through the Eesa Somal had been closed by the murder of Masúd, a favourite slave and adopted son of Sharmarkay; all strangers had been expelled the City for some misconduct by the Harar chief; moreover, small-pox was raging there with such violence that the Galla peasantry would allow neither ingress nor egress. The tide was out, and we waded a quarter of a mile amongst giant crabs, who showed gristly claws, sharp coralline, and seaweed so thick as to become almost like a mat. In the shallower pacts the sun was painfully hot even to my well-tried feet. I was taken immediately to the Governor at Zayla, a fellow Haji, who gave me hospitality.

"The well-known sounds of El Islam returned from memory. Again the melodious chant of the muezzin—no evening bell can compare with it for solemnity and beauty—and in the neighbouring Mosque, the loudly intoned 'Amin' and 'Allaho Akbar,' far superior to any organ, rang in my ear. The evening gun of camp was represented by the nakkarah, or kettle-drum, which sounded about seven p.m. at the southern Gate; and at ten a second drumming warned the paterfamilias that it was time for home, and thieves and lovers, that it was the hour for bastinado. Nightfall was ushered in by the song, the dance, and the marriage festival—here no permission is required for 'native music in the lines'—and muffled figures flitted mysteriously through the dark alleys.

"After a peep through the open window, I fell asleep, feeling once more at home.

Preparations at Zayla.

"I was too much of an Arab to weary of the endless preparations for forming a caravan. I used to provide myself with a Korán and sit receiving visitors, and would occasionally go into the Mosque, my servant carrying the prayer carpet, three hundred pair of eyes staring at me, and after reciting the customary two-bow prayer, in honour of the Mosque, I would place a sword and rosary before me, and, taking the Korán, read the cow-chapter, No. 18, in a loud and twanging voice. This is the character I adopted. You will bear in mind, if you please, that I am a Moslem merchant, a character not to be confounded with the notable individuals seen on ''Change.' Mercator, in the East, is a compound of tradesmen, divine, and T.G. Usually of gentle birth, he is everywhere welcomed and respected; and he bears in his mind and manner that, if Allah please, he may become Prime Minister a month after he has sold you a yard of cloth. Commerce appears to be an accident, not an essential, with him, yet he is by no means deficient in acumen. He is a grave and reverend seignior, with rosary in hand and Korán on lip; is generally a pilgrim; talks at dreary length about Holy Places; writes a pretty hand; has read and can recite much poetry; is master of his religion; demeans himself with respectability; is perfect in all points of ceremony and politeness, and feels equally at home whether Sultan or slave sit upon his counter. He has a wife and children in his own country, where he intends to spend the remnant of his days; but 'the world is uncertain'—'Fate descends, and man's eyes seeth it not'—'the earth is a charnel-house;' briefly, his many old saws give him a kind of theoretical consciousness that his bones may moulder in other places but his fatherland.

"For half a generation we have been masters of Aden, filling Southern Arabia with our calicos and rupees—what is the present state of affairs there? We are dared by the Bedouins to come forth from behind our stone walls and fight like men in the plain—British protégés are slaughtered within the range of our guns—our allies' villages have been burned in sight of Aden—our deserters are welcomed and our fugitive felons protected—our supplies are cut off, and the garrison is reduced to extreme distress, at the word of a half-naked bandit—the miscreant Bhagi, who murdered Captain Mylne in cold blood, still roams the hills unpunished—gross insults are the sole acknowledgements of our peaceful overtures—the British flag has been fired upon without return, our cruisers being ordered to act only on the defensive—and our forbearance to attack is universally asserted and believed to arise from mere cowardice. Such is, and such will be, the opinion and the character of the Arab!

"I stayed here for twenty-six days, rising at dawn; then went to the Terrace to perform my devotions, and make observation of my neighbours; breakfast at six, then coffee, pipe, and a nap; then receive visitors, who come by dozens with nothing to do or say. When they were only Somal, I wrote Arabic, or extracted from some useful book. When Arabs were there, I would recite tales from the 'Arabian Nights,' to their great delight. At eleven, dinner, more coffee and pipes; then the natives would go to sleep, and I wrote my journals and studies. At about two p.m. more visitors would come, and at sunset again to the Terrace, or walk to a mosque, where games are going on, or stroll to a camp of Bedawi. The Gates are locked at sunset, and the keys are carried to the Haji. It is not safe to be without the City later. Then comes supper.

"After it we repair to the roof to enjoy the prospect of the far Tajarrah Hills and the white moonbeams sleeping upon the nearer sea. The evening star hangs like a diamond upon the still horizon; around the moon a pink zone of light mist, shading off into turquoise blue and a delicate green-like chrysopraz, invests the heavens with a peculiar charm. The scene is truly suggestive; behind us, purpling in the night air and silvered by the radiance from above, lie the wolds and mountains tenanted by the fiercest of savages, their shadowy mysterious forms exciting vague alarms in the traveller's breast. Sweet as the harp of David, the night-breeze and the music of the water comes up from the sea; but the ripple and the rustling sound alternate with the hyæna's laugh, and the jackal's cry, and the wild dog's lengthened howl.

Desert Journey.

"This journey, which occupied nearly four months, was to be through a savage, treacherous, ferocious, and bloodthirsty people, whose tribes were in a constant state of blood-feud. The party consisted of nine, an abban or guide, three Arab matchlock men, two women cooks, who were called Shehrazade and Deenarzade after the 'Arabian Nights,' a fourth servant, and a Bedawin woman to drive a donkey, which camels will follow and which is the custom. We had four or five mules, saddled and bridled, and camels for the baggage. Every one wept over us, and considered us dead men. The abban objected to some routes on account of avoiding tribes with which he had a blood-feud."

This was, as I have said, far the most dangerous of Richard's explorations, quite as difficult as Mecca, and far more difficult than anything Stanley has ever done, with his advantages of men, money, and luxuries. The women seemed to be much hardier than the men; they carried the pipe and tobacco, led the camels, adjusted the burdens, at the halt unloaded the cattle, disposed the baggage, covered them with a mat tent, cooked the food, made tea and coffee, and bivouacked outside the tent.

He writes—

"The air was fresh and clear; and the night breeze was delicious after the stormy breath of day. The weary confinement of walls made the weary expanse a luxury to the sight, whilst the tumbling of the surf upon the near shore, and the music of the jackal, predisposed to sweet sleep. We now felt that at length the die was cast. Placing my pistols by my side, with my rifle butt for a pillow, and its barrel as a bed-fellow, I sought repose with none of the apprehension which even the most stout-hearted traveller knows before the start. It is the difference between fancy and reality, between anxiety and certainty; to men gifted with any imaginative powers the anticipation must ever be worse than the event. Thus it happens, that he who feels a thrill of fear before engaging in a peril, exchanges it for a throb of exultation when he finds himself hand to hand with the danger."

The description of the journey is filled in his notes by being hindered and almost captured by Bedawi, lamed with thorns, the camels casting themselves down from fatigue, famishing from hunger, and, worse, from thirst—the only water being sulphurous, which affected both man and beast—and attacks from lions, sleep being disturbed by large ants, three-quarters of an inch long, with venomous stings. Everywhere they went, everybody wept over them, as dead men. He finds time, nevertheless, to remark, that at the height of 3350 feet he found a buttercup and heard a woodpecker tapping, that reminded him of home. He describes a sham attack of twelve Bedawi, who, when they saw what his revolver could do, said they were only in fun.

At one of the kraals he gives an account of how, being surrounded by Somals, they were boasting of their shooting, and of the skill with which they used the shield, but they seemed not to understand the proper use of the sword.

"Thinking it was well to impress them with the superiority of arms, I requested them to put up one of their shields as a mark. They laughed very much, but would not comply. The Somal hate a vulture, because it eats the dead and dying; so, seeing a large brown bare-necked vulture at twenty paces distance, I shot it with my revolver; then I loaded a gun with swan-shot, which they had never seen, and, aiming at a bird that they considered far out of gunshot distance, I knocked it over flying. Fresh screams followed this marvellous feat, and they said, 'Lo! he bringeth down the birds from heaven.' Their Chief, putting his forefinger in his mouth, praised Allah, and prayed to be defended from such a calamity; and always after, when they saw me approach, they said, 'Here comes the Shaykh who knows knowledge.' I then gave a stick to the best man; I provided myself in the same way, and allowed him to cut at me as much as ever he liked, easily warding off the blows with a parry. After repeated failures, and tiring himself enormously, he received a sounding blow from me upon the least bony part of his person. The crowd laughed long and loud, and the knight-at-arms retired in confusion.

"Every now and then we got into difficulties with the Bedawi, who would not allow us to proceed, declaring the land was theirs. We did not deny the claim, but I threatened sorcery, death, and wild beasts, and foraging parties to their camels, children, and women. It generally brought them to their senses. They would spit on us for good luck, and let us depart. Once a Chief was smitten by Shehrazade's bulky charms, and wanted to carry her off. Once in the evening we came upon the fresh trail of a large Habr Awal cavalcade, which frightened my companions dreadfully. We were only nine men and two women, to contend against two hundred horsemen, and all, except the Hammal and Long Guled, would have run away at the first charge. The worst of the ride was over rough and stony road, the thorns tearing their feet and naked legs, and the camels slipping over the rounded pebbles.

"The joy of coming to a kraal was great, where the Chiefs of the village appeared, bringing soft speech, sweet water, new milk, fat sheep and goats, for a tobe of Cutch canvas. We passed a quiet, luxurious day of coffee and pipes, fresh cream and roasted mutton. After the great heats and dangers from horsemen on the plain, we enjoyed the cool breeze of the hills, cloudy skies, and the verdure of the glades which refreshed our beasts. Here I shot a few hawks, and was rewarded with loud exclamations of 'Allah preserve thy hand! may thy skill never fail thee before the foe.' A woman ran away from my steam kettle, thinking it was a weapon. They looked upon my sunburnt skin with a favour they denied to the lime-white face. The Somali Bedawi gradually affiliated me to their tribes.

"At one village the people rushed out, exclaiming, 'Lo! let us look at the Kings;' at others, 'Come and see the white man; he is the Governor of Zayla.' My fairness (for, brown as I am, I am fair to them) and the Arab dress made me sometimes the ruler of Aden, the Chief of Zayla, the Haji's son, a boy, an old woman, a man painted white, a warrior in silver armour, a merchant, a pilgrim, a head priest, Ahmed the Indian, a Turk, an Egyptian, a Frenchman, a Banyan, a Sheríf, and, lastly, a calamity sent down from heaven to weary out the lives of the Somal. Every kraal had its own conjecture.

"On December 9th, I rode a little off my way to visit some ruins, Darbíyah Kola, or Kola's Fort, so called on account of its Galla queen. There were once two cities, Aububah, and they fought like the Kilkenny cats till both were eaten up. This was about three hundred years ago, and the substantial ruins have fought a stern fight with Time.

"Remnants of houses cumber the soil, and the carefully built wells are filled with rubbish. The palace was pointed out to me, with its walls of stone and clay, intersected by layers of woodwork. The Mosque is a large, roofless building, containing twelve square pillars of rude masonry, and the mihrab, or prayer niche, is denoted by a circular arch of tolerable construction. But the voice of the muezzin is hushed for ever, and creepers now twine around the ruined fane. The scene was still and dreary as the grave; for a mile and a half in length all was ruins—ruins—ruins.

"Leaving this Dead City, we rode towards the south-west between two rugged hills. Topping the ridge, we stood for a few minutes to observe the view before us. Beneath our feet lay a long grassy plain—the sight must have gladdened the hearts of our starving mules—and for the first time in Africa horses appeared grazing free amongst the bushes. A little further off lay the Aylonda Valley, studded with graves and dark with verdure. Beyond it stretched the Wady Haráwwah, a long gloomy hollow in the general level. The background was a bold sweep of blue hill, the second gradient of the Harar line, and on its summit, closing the western horizon, lay a golden streak, the Marar Prairie. Already I felt at the end of my journey.

"It was not an unusual thing in the dusk to see a large animal following us with quick stealthy strides, and that I, sending a rifle ball as correctly as I could in the direction, put to flight a large lion.

"The nearer I got to Harar, the more I was stopped by parties of Gallas, and some went on to report evil of me, and many threats were uttered. The 'End of Time' in the last march turned tail. 'Dost thou believe me to be a coward, O Pilgrim?' 'Of a truth I do,' I answered. Nothing abashed, and with joy at his heart, he hammered his mule with his heel, and rode off, saying, 'What hath man but a single life, and he who throweth it away, what is he but a fool?'"

He gives a good account of elephant-hunting, but they did not get near any. The water was in some places so hard it raised lumps like nettle-stings, and they had to butter themselves. At one place the inhabitants flocked out to stare at them. He fired his rifle by way of salute over the head of the prettiest girl. The people, delighted, exclaimed, "Mod! Mod! honour to thee!" and he replied with shouts of "Kulliban! may Heaven aid thee!"

"When there is any danger a Somali watchman sings and addresses himself in dialogue, with different voices, to persuade thieves that several men are watching. Ours was a spectacle of wildness as he sat before the blazing fire. The 'End of Time' conceived the jocose idea of crowning me King of the country, with loud cries of 'Buh! Buh! Buh!' while showering leaves from a gum tree and water from a prayer-bottle over my head, and then with all solemnity bound on my turban. I was hindered and threatened in no end of places, and my companions threatened to desert me, saying, 'They will spoil that white skin of thine at Harar.' Still I pushed on. The Guda Birsi Bedawi number ten thousand spears.

"One night we came upon a sheet of bright blaze, a fire threatening the whole prairie.

"At last came the sign of leaving the Desert. The scene lifted, and we came to the second step of the Ethiopian highlands. In the midst of the valley beneath ran a serpentine of shining waters, the gladdest spectacle we had yet witnessed. Further in front, masses of hill rose abruptly from shady valleys, encircled on the far horizon by a straight blue line of ground resembling a distant sea. Behind us glared the desert. We had now reached the outskirts of civilization, where man, abandoning his flocks and herds, settles, cultivates, and attends to the comforts of life.

"We saw fields, with lanes between, the daisy, the thistle, and the sweet-briar, settled villages, surrounded by strong abatis of thorns, which stud the hills everywhere, clumps of trees, to which the beehives are hung, and yellow crops of holcus, or grain. The Harvest-Home-song sounded pleasant to my ears, and, contrasting with the silent desert, the hum of man's habitation was music. They flocked out to gaze upon us, unarmed, and welcomed us. We bathed in the waters, on whose banks were a multitude of huge Mantidæ, pink and tender green. I now had ample time to see the manners and customs of the settled Somali, as I was conducted to the cottage of the Gerad's pretty wife, and learned the home, and the day, and the food. They spoke Harari, Somali, Galla, Arabic, and dialects. My kettle seems to have created surprise everywhere.

"Here the last preparations were made for entering this dreadful City. All my people, and my camels, and most of my goods, had to be left here for the return journey, and it was the duty of this Chief (Gerad) to accompany me. I happened to hear one of them say, 'Of what use is his gun? Before he could fetch fire I should put this arrow through him.' I wheeled round, and discharged a barrel over their heads, which threw them into convulsions of terror. The man I had now to depend upon was Adan bin Kaushan, a strong wiry Bedawin. He was tricky, ambitious, greedy of gain, fickle, restless, and treacherous, a cunning idiot, always so difficult to deal with. His sister was married to the father of the Amir of Harar, but he said, 'He would as soon walk into a crocodile's mouth as go into the walls of Harar.' He received a sword, a Korán, a turban, an Arab waistcoat of gaudy satin, about seventy tobes, and a similar proportion of indigo-dyed stuff—he privily complained to me that the Hammal had given him but twelve cloths. A list of his wants will best explain the man. He begged me to bring him from Berberah a silver-hilted sword and some soap, one thousand dollars, two sets of silver bracelets, twenty guns with powder and shot, snuff, a scarlet cloth coat embroidered with gold, some poison that would not fail, and any other little article of luxury which might be supposed to suit him. In return he was to present me with horses, mules, slaves, ivory, and other valuables: he forgot, however, to do so before he departed.

"Whilst we were discussing the project, and getting on satisfactorily, five strangers well mounted rode in. Two were citizens, and three were Habr Awal Bedawi, high in the Amir's confidence; they had been sent to settle blood-money with Adan. They then told him that I, the Arab, was not one who bought and sold, but a spy; that I and my party should be sent prisoners to Harar. Adan would not give us up, falsely promising to present our salaams to the Amir. When they were gone he told me how afraid he was, and that it was impossible for him to conduct me to the City. I then relied upon what has made many a small man Great, my good star and audacity.

"Driven to bay, I wrote an English letter from the Political Agent at Aden, to the Amir of Harar, intending to deliver it in person; it was 'neck or nothing.' I only took what was necessary, Sherwa the son of Adan, the Bedawi Actidon and Mad Said, and left everything behind me, excepting some presents for the Amir, a change of clothes, an Arab book or two, a few biscuits, ammunition, and a little tobacco. I passed through a lovely country, was stopped by the Gallas, and by the Habr Awal Bedawi, who offered, if we could wait till sunrise, to take us into the City; so I returned a polite answer, leading them to expect that I should wait till eight a.m. for them. I left my journals, sketches, and books in charge of Adan.

He enters the City in Triumph.

"The journey was hard, and I encountered a Harar Grandee, mounted upon a handsomely caparisoned mule, and attended by servants. He was very courteous, and, seeing me thirsty, ordered me a cup of water. Finally arriving, at the crest of a hill, stood the City—the end of my present travel—a long, sombre line, strikingly contrasting with the white-washed towns of the East. The spectacle, materially speaking, was a disappointment; nothing conspicuous appeared but two grey minarets of rude shape; many would have grudged exposing three lives to win so paltry a prize. But of all that have attempted it, none ever succeeded in entering that pile of stones; the thoroughbred traveller will understand my exultation, although my two companions exchanged glances of wonder. Stopping while my companions bathed, I retired to the wayside and sketched the town. We arrived at three p.m., and advancing to the gate, Mad Said accosted a warder whom he knew, sent our salaams to the Amir, saying we came from Aden, and requested the honour of audience. The Habr Awal collected round me inside the town, and scowling, inquired why we had not apprised them of our intention of entering the City; but it was 'war to the knife,' and I did not deign to answer.