We were up in an instant, and my interpreter, Mahomet, in a state
of intense confusion, explained that the river was coming down,
and that the supposed distant thunder was the roar of approaching
water.
Many of the people were asleep on the clean sand on the river's
bed; these were quickly awakened by the Arabs, who rushed down
the steep bank to save the skulls of my two hippopotami that were
exposed to dry. Hardly had they descended, when the sound of the
river in the darkness beneath told us that the water had arrived,
and the men, dripping with wet, had just sufficient time to drag
their heavy burdens up the bank.
All was darkness and confusion; everybody was talking and no one
listening; but the great event had occurred the river had arrived
"like a thief in the night." On the morning of the 24th June, I
stood on the banks of the noble Atbara river, at the break of
day. The wonder of the desert!--yesterday there was a barren
sheet of glaring sand, with a fringe of withered bush and trees
upon its borders, that cut the yellow expanse of desert. For days
we had journeyed along the exhausted bed: all Nature, even 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 500 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 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 clue to one portion of the Nile
mystery, and that, as "coming events cast their shadows before
them," 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!
One of my Turks, Hadji Achmet, was ill; therefore, although I
longed to travel, it was necessary to wait. I extract verbatim
from my journal, 26th June:--"The river has still risen; the
weather is cooler, and the withered trees and bushes are giving
signs of bursting into leaf. This season may be termed the spring
of this country.
