During our two days’ stay in Sfákes we made the acquaintance of a Jew calling himself Baránes, but who is in truth the Jew servant named Jacob who accompanied Denham and Clapperton, and is several times mentioned in the narrative of those enterprising travellers as self-conceited and stubborn; yet he seems to be rather a clever fellow, and in some way or other contrives to be on the best terms with the governor. He communicated to us many anecdotes of the former expedition, and, among other things, a very mysterious history of a Danish traveller in disguise whom they met in Borno coming all the way from Dar-Fúr through Wadaï. There is not the least mention of such a meeting in the journal of the expedition, nor has such an achievement of a European traveller ever been heard of; and I can scarcely believe the truth of this story, though the Jew was quite positive about it. The vessel in which we embarked was as miserable as it could be, there being only a small low cabin as high as a dog-kennel, and measuring, in its greatest width, from six to seven feet, where I and my companion were to pass the night. We thought that a run of forty-eight hours, at the utmost, would carry us across the gulf; but the winds in the Lesser Syrtis are extremely uncertain, and sometimes so violent that a little vessel is obliged to run along the coast. At first we went on tolerably well; but the wind soon became unfavourable, and in the evening we were obliged to cast anchor opposite Nekta, and, to our despair, were kept there till the afternoon of Tuesday, when at length we were enabled to go forward in our frail little shell, and reached Méheres—not Sidi Méheres, as it is generally called in the maps—in the darkness of night. Having made up our minds rather to risk anything than to be longer immured in such a desperate dungeon as our gáreb, we went on shore early on Wednesday morning with all our things, but were not able to conclude a bargain with some Bedowín of the tribe of the Léffet, who were watering their camels at the well.