Expedition to discover the sources of the White Nile, in the years 1840, 1841, Vol. 1 (of 2)Werne, Ferdinand
History
Expedition to discover the sources of the White Nile, in the years 1840, 1841, Vol. 1 (of 2)
Werne, Ferdinand
Nile River
It is three o’clock. S. by W. Do I hear rightly?—they are speaking
of _Gebl_—how that sound thrills to my heart! I call, but no one
listens to me, for all are standing upon deck, and looking towards
the mountain, which is said to be very large. In spite of the sun,
and all remonstrances, I drag myself up on deck, and see the mountain
to S.W., at a distance of about twenty hours. It seems to form an
accumulation towards one point, and may surely be the forerunner of
other mountains; therefore, after all, there are mountains of the
moon. City crowds on city; and the Egyptians look out from the mast
for herds of cattle, which are not, however, numerous. An innumerable
population moves on the shores; to express their number our crew say,
“Ketir, saie el tubàhn” (as many as flies); and we sail always,
Allah Kerim, by the shore, which is quite black with people, who
are standing as if benumbed with astonishment.
Four o’clock. From S.S.E. to S.S.W. The north-east wind good for
four miles. It seems as if we were going to the chain of mountains,
or, at least, coming nearer to it. Two days ago the natives whom we
asked knew nothing of any mountain on the river. The river again
becomes majestic at this bend, and gives us every favourable hope
by its water-mark. On the right a small island, and another lies
likewise planted in the middle of the river before us.
Five o’clock. S.W., and to S. An island on the left shore, where
a gohr enters far into the land; then on the left a small island
in our river, round which we proceed on the right, in order to come
to the supposed gohr, which soon shews itself to be a main stream,
flowing here S.E., and therefore not forming an island. Still there
is an uncomfortable feeling at finding myself near the Equator in
Central Africa, and being ill at the same time. Every man has his
home, and this is frequently confined to such narrow limits that
there is, properly speaking, only _one_ favourite place in life. I
was never a gourmand; but _sauerkraut_, now fresh from the tub—and
I should be well on the spot.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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