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The Sheikh Makouran continues very civil: to-day he gave me a supply of onions for making soup, and promises to give me a house to live in, when I get to Ghadames. I have, in turn, to give him some medicine, on my arrival, for one of his two wives. I rode a little the Sheikh's donkey last night, at his request.
The Souf Arabs tell me there is no water for seven days in summer and twelve in winter, on the road they came from their country to Ghadames, the difference being the length of days. The well is called Beer-es-Saf, and sometimes Beer-ej-Jadeed. The route lies entirely through sand, N.W. This region of sand is the celebrated hunting-place of the Souf Arabs. Dined again with the Rais this evening.
The reading accidentally of a fugitive brochure, thrown upon the table of the public library of Algiers, gave me the germ of the idea, which, fructifying and expanding, ultimately led me to the design of visiting and exploring the celebrated Oasis of Ghadames, planted far-away amidst the most appalling desolations of the Great Saharan Wilderness.
Whilst writing my journal, the house is filled with Touaricks, and I cannot get rid of them. I am obliged therefore to enter into conversation to amuse them. "How large is Ghat? as large as Ghadames?" "Bigger than Tripoli." "Have you plenty of meat in Ghat?" "Plenty of everything." "I am afraid of you you killed one of my countrymen near Timbuctoo?" "Will you take me safe to Ghat?"
I observed, "People are all superbly dressed, and there was not much appearance of poverty." Speaking of slaves, his Excellency said, "There is now no profit on slaves. Government takes ten mahboubs duty on each. A good slave sells in Ghadames for forty mahboubs." The Rais told me to take care of the vermin, and abused the filthiness of the people.
The conversation which followed, if such it may be called, is characteristic of the bold Arab, and the haughty Turk. The Souafee. "The Shânbah are coming to Ghadames." The Governor. "I don't know; God knows." The Souafee. "My brothers write to me and tell me so." The Governor. "I don't know." The Souafee. "Give me money, and I'll go and look after them." The Governor. "I have no money."
It had been given out in Tripoli that I was to be appointed Consul at Ghadames. His Highness was however very polite, and promised to furnish me with tents, if I had need, and a large escort. The Turks are getting sensitive of the press. The Bashaw said he had heard I was a great newspaper writer, and asked me if I had any objection to writing an article in his praise.
This we did to frighten them, for after one of my friends gave him a crack over the head, he was let off, promising to do so no more. The lower Moors and Touaricks, both here and at Ghadames, teach the slaves to call Christians kafer, "infidel." The blacksmiths, near Hateetah's house, mostly salute me as I pass by them, with "There's no God," &c. Sometimes they are extremely insolent.
A little senna is found casually in the gardens of Ghadames; but the country of Senna, in The Sahara, is Aheer, where it is cultivated by the Touaricks. Speaking of the Touaricks, he said: "These people are getting dissatisfied with us. Formerly we paid them better; but being robbed of our money by the Turks, we can't give them much. They smell also a disagreeable odour now.
A few flies still follow our caravan, which we brought from Ghadames. These witless things have wisdom enough not to remain behind and perish in The Desert. Passed by two dead camels, fast decomposing into bones. Road all small stones sprinkled over an earthy soil, or altogether earth. Mirage again seen, with similar phenomena.
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