But at present these shores, once animated with the bustle of many larger and smaller villages of the native Songhay, were buried in silence and solitude, a turbulent period of almost 200 years having succeeded to the epoch when the great Songhay king, Mohammed el Háj Áskia, held the whole of these regions under his powerful sway. No less than four dwelling-places[82] along this tract of the river had been destroyed on one and the same day by the father of Galáijo, the prince whom we had met on our journey a short distance from Sáy. A solitary antelope, with her young, was the only living being in the present state of desolation that we observed during several hours’ navigation, but the banks were occasionally lined with fine trees. Besides the tamarind tree, a tree called bógi appeared in great quantities; it bears a yellow fruit about the size of a pear, having four or five large kernels, and which, on account of its pleasant acid taste, afforded us a very refreshing treat. Having met with a short delay, in consequence of a thunderstorm which brought us but little rain, we observed the island of Kóra, which lies at the mouth of this channel, and the main river ahead of us, the water increasing in breadth, while one arm branches off round the south- western part of the island, presenting here the appearance of an inland sea. But we had scarcely caught a glimpse of the great river itself, when a second and heavier thunderstorm, which had long been gathering, threatened to break forth, and obliged us to seek shelter in the grassy eastern shore of the main. We had scarcely fastened the boat, when the rain came down in torrents, and lasted with great violence for nearly two hours, so that my berth was entirely swamped, and I remained in a most uncomfortable state during the whole of the night. [Sidenote: Sunday, September 4th.]