POSTSCRIPT.

On Saturday, the 7th April 1855, the H. E. I. Company’s Schooner “Mahi,” Lieut.

King, I. N., commanding, entered the harbour of Berberah, where her guns roared

forth a parting salute to the “Somali Expedition.”

The Emporium of East Africa was at the time of my landing, in a state of

confusion. But a day before, the great Harar caravan, numbering 3000 souls, and

as many cattle, had entered for the purpose of laying in the usual eight months’

supplies, and purchase, barter, and exchange were transacted in most hurried and

unbusiness-like manner. All day, and during the greater part of night, the town

rang with the voices of buyer and seller: to specify no other articles of

traffic, 500 slaves of both sexes were in the market.1 Long lines of laden and

unladen camels were to be seen pacing the glaring yellow shore; rumours of

plundering parties at times brought swarms of spear-men, bounding and yelling

like wild beasts, from the town; already small parties of travellers had broken

ground for their return journey; and the foul heap of mat hovels, to which this

celebrated mart had been reduced, was steadily shrinking in dimensions.

Our little party consisted of forty-two souls. At Aden I had applied officially

for some well-trained Somali policemen, but as an increase of that establishment

had been urged upon the home authorities, my request was refused. We were fain

to content ourselves with a dozen recruits of various races, Egyptian, Nubian,

Arab and Negro, whom we armed with sabres and flint muskets. The other members

of the expedition were our private servants, and about a score of Somal under

our rival protectors Jami Hasan and Burhale Nuh. The Ras or Captain of the

Kafilah was one Mahmud of the Mijjarthayn, better known at Aden as El Balyuz or

the Envoy: he had the reputation of being a shrewd manager, thoroughly

acquainted with the habits and customs, as well as the geography, of Somaliland.

Our camp was pitched near the site of the proposed Agency, upon a rocky ridge

within musket-shot of the southern extremity of the creek, and about three

quarters of a mile distant from the town. This position had been selected for

the benefit of the “Mahi’s” guns. Political exigencies required the “Mahi” to

relieve the “Elphinstone,” then blockading the seaboard of our old Arab foe, the

Fazli chief; she was unable to remain upon the coast, and superintend our

departure, a measure which I had strongly urged. Our tents were pitched in one

line: Lieut. Stroyan’s was on the extreme right, about a dozen paces distant was

the “Rowtie”2 occupied by Lieut. Herne and myself, and at a similar distance on

the left of the camp was that in which Lieut. Speke slept. The baggage was

placed between the two latter, the camels were tethered in front upon a sandy

bed beneath the ridge our camping-ground, and in rear stood the horses and

mules. During day-time all were on the alert: at night two sentries were posted,

regularly relieved, and visited at times by the Ras and ourselves.

I had little reason to complain of my reception at Berberah. The chiefs appeared

dissatisfied with the confinement of one Mohammed Sammattar, the Abban who

accompanied Lieut. Speke to the Eastern country: they listened, however, with

respectful attention to a letter in which the Political Resident at Aden

enjoined them to treat us with consideration and hospitality.

There had been petty disputes with Burhale Nuh, and the elders of the Eesa Musa

tribe, touching the hire of horse-keepers and camel-drivers: such events,

however, are not worthy to excite attention in Africa. My friend at Harar, the

Shaykh Jami, had repeatedly called upon us, ate bread and salt, recommended us

to his fellow countrymen, and used my intervention in persuading avaricious

ship-owners to transport, gratis, pauper pilgrims to Arabia. The people, after

seeing the deaths of a few elephants, gradually lowered their loud boasts and

brawling claims: they assisted us in digging a well, offered their services as

guides and camel-drivers, and in some cases insisted upon encamping near us for

protection. Briefly, we saw no grounds of apprehension. During thirty years, not

an Englishman of the many that had visited it had been molested at Berberah, and

apparently there was as little to fear in it as within the fortifications of

Aden.3

Under these favourable circumstances we might have set out at once towards the

interior. Our camels, fifty-six in number, had been purchased4, and the Ogadayn

Caravan was desirous of our escort. But we wished to witness the close of the

Berberah fair, and we expected instruments and other necessaries by the

mid-April mail from Europe.5

About 8 P.M., on the 9th April, a shower, accompanied by thunder and lightning,

came up from the southern hills, where rain had been falling for some days, and

gave notice that the Gugi or Somali monsoon had begun. This was the signal for

the Bedouins to migrate to the Plateau above the hills.6 Throughout the town the

mats were stripped from their frameworks of stick and pole7, the camels were

laden, and thousands of travellers lined the roads. The next day Berberah was

almost deserted except by the pilgrims who intended to take ship, and by

merchants, who, fearful of plundering parties, awaited the first favourable hour

for setting sail. Our protectors, Jami and Burhale, receiving permission to

accompany their families and flocks, left us in charge of their sons and

relations. On the 15th April the last vessel sailed out of the creek, and our

little party remained in undisputed possession of the place.

Three days afterwards, about noon, an Aynterad craft en route from Aden entered

the solitary harbour freighted with about a dozen Somal desirous of accompanying

us towards Ogadayn, the southern region. She would have sailed that evening;

fortunately, however, I had ordered our people to feast her commander and crew

with rice and the irresistible dates.

At sunset on the same day we were startled by a discharge of musketry behind the

tents: the cause proved to be three horsemen, over whose heads our guard had

fired in case they might be a foraging party. I reprimanded our people sharply

for this act of folly, ordering them in future to reserve their fire, and when

necessary to shoot into, not above, a crowd. After this we proceeded to

catechise the strangers, suspecting them to be scouts, the usual forerunners of

a Somali raid: the reply was so plausible that even the Balyuz, with all his

acuteness, was deceived. The Bedouins had forged a report that their ancient

enemy the Hajj Sharmarkay was awaiting with four ships at the neighbouring port,

Siyaro, the opportunity of seizing Berberah whilst deserted, and of re-erecting

his forts there for the third time. Our visitors swore by the divorce-oath,—the

most solemn which the religious know,—that a vessel entering the creek at such

unusual season, they had been sent to ascertain whether it had been freighted

with materials for building, and concluded by laughingly asking if we feared

danger from the tribe of our own protectors. Believing them, we posted as usual

two sentries for the night, and retired to rest in our wonted security.

Between 2 and 3 A.M. of the 19th April I was suddenly aroused by the Balyuz, who

cried aloud that the enemy was upon us.8 Hearing a rush of men like a stormy

wind, I sprang up, called for my sabre, and sent Lieut. Herne to ascertain the

force of the foray. Armed with a “Colt,” he went to the rear and left of the

camp, the direction of danger, collected some of the guard,—others having

already disappeared,—and fired two shots into the assailants. Then finding

himself alone, he turned hastily towards the tent; in so doing he was tripped up

by the ropes, and as he arose, a Somali appeared in the act of striking at him

with a club. Lieut. Herne fired, floored the man, and rejoining me, declared

that the enemy was in great force and the guard nowhere. Meanwhile, I had

aroused Lieuts. Stroyan and Speke, who were sleeping in the extreme right and

left tents. The former, it is presumed, arose to defend himself, but, as the

sequel shows, we never saw him alive.9 Lieut. Speke, awakened by the report of

firearms, but supposing it the normal false alarm,—a warning to plunderers,—he

remained where he was: presently hearing clubs rattling upon his tent, and feet

shuffling around, he ran to my Rowtie, which we prepared to defend as long as

possible.

The enemy swarmed like hornets with shouts and screams intending to terrify, and

proving that overwhelming odds were against us: it was by no means easy to avoid

in the shades of night the jobbing of javelins, and the long heavy daggers

thrown at our legs from under and through the opening of the tent. We three

remained together: Lieut. Herne knelt by my right, on my left was Lieut. Speke

guarding the entrance, I stood in the centre, having nothing but a sabre. The

revolvers were used by my companions with deadly effect: unfortunately there was

but one pair. When the fire was exhausted, Lieut. Herne went to search for his

powder-horn, and that failing, to find some spears usually tied to the

tent-pole. Whilst thus engaged, he saw a man breaking into the rear of our

Rowtie, and came back to inform me of the circumstance.

At this time, about five minutes after the beginning of the affray, the tent had

been almost beaten down, an Arab custom with which we were all familiar, and had

we been entangled in its folds, we should have been speared with unpleasant

facility. I gave the word for escape, and sallied out, closely followed by

Lieut. Herne, with Lieut. Speke in the rear. The prospect was not agreeable.

About twenty men were kneeling and crouching at the tent entrance, whilst many

dusk figures stood further off, or ran about shouting the war-cry, or with

shouts and blows drove away our camels. Among the enemy were many of our friends

and attendants: the coast being open to them, they naturally ran away, firing a

few useless shots and receiving a modicum of flesh wounds.

After breaking through the mob at the tent entrance, imagining that I saw the

form of Lieut. Stroyan lying upon the sand, I cut my way towards it amongst a

dozen Somal, whose war-clubs worked without mercy, whilst the Balyuz, who was

violently pushing me out of the fray, rendered the strokes of my sabre

uncertain. This individual was cool and collected: though incapacitated by a

sore right-thumb from using the spear, he did not shun danger, and passed unhurt

through the midst of the enemy: his efforts, however, only illustrated the

venerable adage, “defend me from my friends.” I turned to cut him down: he cried

out in alarm; the well-known voice caused an instant’s hesitation: at that

moment a spearman stepped forward, left his javelin in my mouth, and retired

before he could be punished. Escaping as by a miracle, I sought some support:

many of our Somal and servants lurking in the darkness offered to advance, but

“tailed off” to a man as we approached the foe. Presently the Balyuz reappeared,

and led me towards the place where he believed my three comrades had taken

refuge. I followed him, sending the only man that showed presence of mind, one

Golab of the Yusuf tribe, to bring back the Aynterad craft from the Spit into

the centre of the harbour 10. Again losing the Balyuz in the darkness, I spent

the interval before dawn wandering in search of my comrades, and lying down when

overpowered with faintness and pain: as the day broke, with my remaining

strength I reached the head of the creek, was carried into the vessel, and

persuaded the crew to arm themselves and visit the scene of our disasters.

Meanwhile, Lieut. Herne, who had closely followed me, fell back, using the

butt-end of his discharged sixshooter upon the hard heads around him: in so

doing he came upon a dozen men, who though they loudly vociferated, “Kill the

Franks who are killing the Somal!” allowed him to pass uninjured.

He then sought his comrades in the empty huts of the town, and at early dawn was

joined by the Balyuz, who was similarly employed. When day broke he sent a Negro

to stop the native craft, which was apparently sailing out of the harbour, and

in due time came on board. With the exception of sundry stiff blows with the

war-club, Lieut. Herne had the fortune to escape unhurt.

On the other hand, Lieut. Speke’s escape was in every way wonderful. Sallying

from the tent he levelled his “Dean and Adams” close to an assailant’s breast.

The pistol refused to revolve. A sharp blow of a war-club upon the chest felled

our comrade, who was in the rear and unseen. When he fell, two or three men

sprang upon him, pinioned his hands behind, felt him for concealed weapons,—an

operation to which he submitted in some alarm,—and led him towards the rear, as

he supposed to be slaughtered. There, Lieut. Speke, who could scarcely breathe

from the pain of the blow, asked a captor to tie his hands before, instead of

behind, and begged a drop of water to relieve his excruciating thirst. The

savage defended him against a number of the Somal who came up threatening and

brandishing their spears, he brought a cloth for the wounded man to lie upon,

and lost no time in procuring a draught of water.

Lieut. Speke remained upon the ground till dawn. During the interval he

witnessed the war-dance of the savages—a scene striking in the extreme. The

tallest and largest warriors marched in a ring round the tents and booty,

singing, with the deepest and most solemn tones, the song of thanksgiving. At a

little distance the grey uncertain light disclosed four or five men, lying

desperately hurt, whilst their kinsmen kneaded their limbs, poured water upon

their wounds, and placed lumps of dates in their stiffening hands.11 As day

broke, the division of plunder caused angry passions to rise. The dead and dying

were abandoned. One party made a rush upon the cattle, and with shouts and yells

drove them off towards the wild, some loaded themselves with goods, others

fought over pieces of cloth, which they tore with hand and dagger, whilst the

disappointed, vociferating with rage, struck at one another and brandished their

spears. More than once during these scenes, a panic seized them; they moved off

in a body to some distance; and there is little doubt that had our guard struck

one blow, we might still have won the day.

Lieut. Speke’s captor went to seek his own portion of the spoil, when a Somal

came up and asked in Hindostani, what business the Frank had in their country,

and added that he would kill him if a Christian, but spare the life of a brother

Moslem. The wounded man replied that he was going to Zanzibar, that he was still

a Nazarene, and therefore that the work had better be done at once:—the savage

laughed and passed on. He was succeeded by a second, who, equally compassionate,

whirled a sword round his head, twice pretended to strike, but returned to the

plunder without doing damage. Presently came another manner of assailant. Lieut.

Speke, who had extricated his hands, caught the spear levelled at his breast,

but received at the same moment a blow from a club which, paralyzing his arm,

caused him to lose his hold. In defending his heart from a succession of

thrusts, he received severe wounds on the back of his hand, his right shoulder,

and his left thigh. Pausing a little, the wretch crossed to the other side, and

suddenly passed his spear clean through the right leg of the wounded man: the

latter “smelling death,” then leapt up, and taking advantage of his assailant’s

terror, rushed headlong towards the sea. Looking behind, he avoided the javelin

hurled at his back, and had the good fortune to run, without further accident,

the gauntlet of a score of missiles. When pursuit was discontinued, he sat down

faint from loss of blood upon a sandhill. Recovering strength by a few minutes’

rest, he staggered on to the town, where some old women directed him to us.

Then, pursuing his way, he fell in with the party sent to seek him, and by their

aid reached the craft, having walked and run at least three miles, after

receiving eleven wounds, two of which had pierced his thighs. A touching lesson

how difficult it is to kill a man in sound health!12

When the three survivors had reached the craft, Yusuf, the captain, armed his

men with muskets and spears, landed them near the camp, and ascertained that the

enemy, expecting a fresh attack, had fled, carrying away our cloth, tobacco,

swords, and other weapons.13 The corpse of Lieut. Stroyan was then brought on

board. Our lamented comrade was already stark and cold. A spear had traversed

his heart, another had pierced his abdomen, and a frightful gash, apparently of

a sword, had opened the upper part of his forehead: the body had been bruised

with war-clubs, and the thighs showed marks of violence after death. This was

the severest affliction that befell us. We had lived together like brothers:

Lieut. Stroyan was a universal favourite, and his sterling qualities of manly

courage, physical endurance, and steady perseverance had augured for him a

bright career, thus prematurely cut off. Truly melancholy to us was the contrast

between the evening when he sat with us full of life and spirits, and the

morning when we saw amongst us a livid corpse.

We had hoped to preserve the remains of our friend for interment at Aden. But so

rapid were the effects of exposure, that we were compelled most reluctantly, on

the morning of the 20th April, to commit them to the deep, Lieut. Herne reading

the funeral service.

Then with heavy hearts we set sail for the near Arabian shore, and, after a

tedious two days, carried to our friends the news of unexpected disaster.

1 The Fair-season of 1864-56 began on the 16th November, and may be said to have

broken up on the 15th April.

The principal caravans which visit Berberah are from Harar the Western, and

Ogadayn, the Southern region: they collect the produce of the numerous

intermediate tribes of the Somal. The former has been described in the preceding

pages. The following remarks upon the subject of the Ogadayn caravan are the

result of Lieuts. Stroyan and Herne’s observations at Berberah.

“Large caravans from Ogadayn descend to the coast at the beginning and the end

of the Fair-season. They bring slaves from the Arusa country, cattle in great

quantities, gums of sorts, clarified butter, ivory, ostrich feathers, and

rhinoceros horns to be made into handles for weapons. These are bartered for

coarse cotton cloth of three kinds, for English and American sheeting in pieces

of seventy-five, sixty-six, sixty-two, and forty-eight yards, black and

indigo-dyed calicos in lengths of sixteen yards, nets or fillets worn by the

married women, iron and steel in small bars, lead and zinc, beads of various

kinds, especially white porcelain and speckled glass, dates and rice.”

The Ayyal Ahmed and Ayyal Yunis classes of the Habr Awal Somal have constituted

themselves Abbans or brokers to the Ogadayn Caravans, and the rapacity of the

patron has produced a due development of roguery in the client. The principal

trader of this coast is the Banyan from Aden find Cutch, facetiously termed by

the Somal their “Milch-cows.” The African cheats by mismeasuring the bad cotton

cloth, and the Indian by falsely weighing the coffee, ivory, ostrich feathers

and other valuable articles which he receives in return. Dollars and even rupees

are now preferred to the double breadth of eight cubits which constitutes the

well known “Tobe.”

2 A Sepoy’s tent, pent-house shaped, supported by a single transverse and two

upright poles and open at one of the long ends.

3 Since returning I have been informed, however, by the celebrated Abyssinian

traveller M. Antoine d’Abbadie, that in no part of the wild countries which he

visited was his life so much perilled as at Berberah.

4 Lieut. Speke had landed at Karam harbour on the 24th of March, in company with

the Ras, in order to purchase camels. For the Ayyun or best description he paid

seven dollars and a half; the Gel Ad (white camels) cost on an average four. In

five days he had collected twenty-six, the number required, and he then marched

overland from Karam to Berberah.

I had taken the precaution of detaching Lieut. Speke to Karam in lively

remembrance of my detention for want of carriage at Zayla, and in consequence of

a report raised by the Somal of Aden that a sufficient number of camels was not

procurable at Berberah. This proved false. Lieuts. Stroyan and Herne found no

difficulty whatever in purchasing animals at the moderate price of five dollars

and three quarters a head: for the same sum they could have bought any

reasonable number. Future travellers, however, would do well not to rely solely

upon Berberah for a supply of this necessary, especially at seasons when the

place is not crowded with caravans.

5 The Elders of the Habr Awal, I have since been informed, falsely asserted that

they repeatedly urged us, with warnings of danger, to leave Berberah at the end

of the fair, but that we positively refused compliance, for other reasons. The

facts of the case are those stated in the text.

6 They prefer travelling during the monsoon, on account of the abundance of

water.

7 The framework is allowed to remain for use next Fair-season.

8 The attacking party, it appears, was 350 strong; 12 of the Mikahil, 15 of the

Habr Gerhajis, and the rest Eesa Musa. One Ao Ali wore, it is said, the ostrich

feather for the murder of Lieut. Stroyan.

9 Mohammed, his Indian servant, stated that rising at my summons he had rushed

to his tent, armed himself with a revolver, and fired six times upon his

assassins. Unhappily, however, Mohammed did not see his master fall, and as he

was foremost amongst the fugitives, scant importance attaches to his evidence.

10 At this season native craft quitting Berberah make for the Spit late in the

evening, cast anchor there, and set sail with the land breeze before dawn. Our

lives hung upon a thread. Had the vessel departed, as she intended, the night

before the attack, nothing could have saved us from destruction.

11 The Somal place dates in the hands of the fallen to ascertain the extent of

injury: he who cannot eat that delicacy is justly decided to be in articulo.

12 In less than a month after receiving such injuries, Lieut. Speke was on his

way to England: he has never felt the least inconvenience from the wounds, which

closed up like cuts in Indian-rubber.

13 They had despised the heavy sacks of grain, the books, broken boxes, injured

instruments, and a variety of articles which they did not understand. We spent

that day at Berberah, bringing off our property, and firing guns to recall six

servants who were missing. They did not appear, having lost no time in starting

for Karam and Aynterad, whence they made their way in safety to Aden. On the

evening of the 19th of April, unable to remove the heavier effects, and anxious

to return with the least possible delay, I ordered them to be set on fire.

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