Part 1

JOURNAL OF HERBERT EDWARD PRETYMAN

_LIEUTENANT GRENADIER GUARDS_

_Written during his Expedition to the Kittar Mountains, between Kenneh (on the Nile) and the Red Sea_ 1891

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PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION ONLY _NOVEMBER,_ 1892

LONDON: G. NORMAN AND SON, PRINTERS, HART STREET, COVENT GARDEN.

To COLONEL H. TROTTER, COLONEL L. J. OLIPHANT, AND OFFICERS OF THE 3RD BATTALION GRENADIER GUARDS.

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Few words are needed, and none by way of apology, for asking your acceptance of the accompanying pages. They are all I can now offer in grateful recognition of your affectionate regard for my very dear son, and of your sympathy with myself in the loss I have sustained by his untimely death. The last thought, I feel sure, that would have ever crossed his mind was that this simple record of his excursion in nearly untrodden ground would ever see the light in its present form. I have made no attempt to alter or revise it, as those who knew him best will most readily recognize. Great pains have been taken to secure the most artistic copies available for the reproduction of his photographs, which are the first ever taken in the Kittar Mountains. To these I have ventured to add one, which will recall a scene never to be forgotten by those who witnessed the last tribute of your affection in attending my dear son’s funeral.

Would that I could find words worthier to express my heartfelt thanks to you all, of all ranks, in your Battalion.

Most faithfully yours,

FREDERIC PRETYMAN.

GREAT CARLTON, LOUTH. _September 1st,_ 1892.

CONTENTS.

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PAGE LIEUTENANT PRETYMAN’S JOURNAL 1 REPRINT OF THE ARTICLE “BRIGADE INTELLIGENCE” 49 MEMORIAL VERSES BY LIEUTENANT NUGENT 50

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LIST OF PLATES.

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Frontispiece. Herbert Edward Pretyman.

{My Camels and Driver. {Midday halt in Desert, between Nile and Red Sea.

Camp at Koor-jinn.

In the Medisa Ravine.

Pools in Medisa Ravine. Looking South-West.

Medisa Fall. Upper Pool.

Medisa. Middle Pool. Showing the reflection of rocks in water.

Looking down Medisa Ravine from Lower Pool.

Medisa Fall. Lower Pool.

Kittar Waterfall. Discovered by Floyer, 1886.

Kittar Waterfall.

Pool in Um-Yessar Ravine. Jebel Kittar.

Munfia.

Camp at Eastern Well, Munfia.

{Old Roman Fort at Badia. {Wadi Badia.

{Between Badia and Wadi Kittar. {Camp Wadi at Kittar.

{Wadi Kittar. {Tent.

Eastern Spur of Jebel Kittar.

Wadi Kittar. Looking North.

Kittar Waterfall.

Map of Route.

Church Yard, Great Carlton.

JOURNAL OF HERBERT EDWARD PRETYMAN,

LIEUT. GRENADIER GUARDS.

SHEPHEARD’S HOTEL, CAIRO, _December 27th,_ 1890.

MY DEAR FATHER,

We arrived here last night only, having reached Alexandria thirty-six hours late, owing to a fog in Venice which delayed the “Cathay.” We had a very rough passage, and I felt very sorry for myself. General and Mrs. Walker, the new Commandant in Egypt, was on board with his two aides-de-camp. So I have had friends all the way. We had no trouble at Alexandria, and there is an excellent train service between Alexandria and Cairo. It seemed quite like being on the old G.N.R.

We have made great progress in getting our expedition together, purchasing stores, and telegraphing for camels to be ready at Kenneh. We have got the new War Office map of the country, with all the routes and distances marked. This will simplify matters considerably. There is only one long distance without water, about sixty-five miles, which we hope to get over in four marches. Yesterday I went to get leave from the Sirdar, Sir F. Grenfell, to travel and shoot in the Eastern Desert. He was very kind and made no objection whatever. If I can get all my things together I propose to make a start from this on Tuesday next, the 30th. We go by train to Assiout, then by Nile steamer to Kenneh—the whole distance takes about three days. At Kenneh, the camels are to be collected and the final start made to the Kittar Mountains, where we propose to make our first permanent camp. I find Powney cannot possibly reach here before January the 8th, so he will have to come on straight after me. If I can wait, I may possibly visit Luxor and Karnac before starting from Kenneh. In this case we should both go over the desert together; but it depends upon many things whether I wait for him or not. Cairo is unbearable—a ball and a dinner party every night. To-morrow I dine with General Walker, and go to a big ball at the Kasr-el-Nil palace afterwards. I lunched to-day with my old friend Phipps of the Dorset Regiment. Cairo is full of friends, and more like London in the season than an Eastern city. Most of my old crew of the “Isis-Sothis” have turned up like bad pennies, and made their salaam.

You will hear from me from Kenneh before we leave for the Kittar Mountains, and I shall write in the form of a diary, so you will see what we do from day to day.

It is decidedly cold here and a thick coat is by no means to be despised. It was bitterly cold in the Overland mail, deep snows right down to Ancona. It has just begun to rain. I send a rough map of our route, so you will have an idea where we are going.

CAIRO, _January 2nd,_ 1891.

I leave to-night for Kenneh as I could not get all the things collected any sooner. However, at last everything seems to be right. I have left full directions for Powney to come on after me next week. Floyer has been a “friend at court” throughout. He had another son born on New Year’s Eve, and is as proud as a peacock in consequence. Cairo has been very gay. I have dined and lunched out every day since I came, except once. Luckily I have escaped with only one ball. It rains here every day—yesterday in torrents; Cairo is a sea of liquid mud; it is impossible to get about anywhere. Athlumney will be my companion as far as Kenneh. He goes on to Wadi Halfa where his regiment is quartered. We went to the Pyramids together on Wednesday, right down inside. Thank goodness it is all over. I hope never to go there again. Those rascals calling themselves guides completely ruin all ones pleasure and interest. They are more like howling wolves than human beings, and money is their god, and who is to blame but the English tourist? The sun is struggling to get out to-day, but it is still very cold. I hope you are well. This is the last you will hear of me for some time.

_Friday, January 2nd,_ 1891.

Left Cairo at 7 P.M. after great trouble with baggage, &c. These Egyptians are just like children, consequently we had to be at the station long before the train starts. We are a party of four, Lord Athlumney and Spong, both Bimbashis (majors) in the Egyptian army, and a doctor, by name Fowler. We had a good meal in the train and then turned in to sleep as best we could. My carriage is next door, with only one other in it, a Frenchman, so we each had a whole seat to sleep on. I did not get much sleep owing to the loud snoring of my companion; besides which, the Upper Egypt trains are not of the smooth-running kind. Moreover, they stop at every station and start afresh with a jerk, which I hoped would awake my noisy Frenchman, but in this I was disappointed.

_January 3rd,_ 1891.

Arrived at Assiout at about 7.30 A.M., in time to see a most lovely sunrise over the desert. Here began again the difficulty about baggage. The depôt where it was stored (I had sent my heavy baggage on two days before) was nearly a mile from where the steamer leaves, so it had all to be put upon camels and brought down to the river. This seems a bad arrangement considering the train itself goes right down to the wharf. But the mind of the Egyptian official moves very slowly, and it apparently does not occur to him to have the luggage depôt at the point of departure of the boats. There are only about a dozen passengers on board, so we each have a good big cabin to ourselves, which is a great comfort. We are a mixed company at meals—English, French, Italian, Greek, Egyptian, Turks, and a party of Americans joined us in the afternoon. They feed us fairly well, considering—plenty of eggs and fruit; the former are worth seventy-five for a shilling in the native markets, where one can buy a whole sugar cane for a farthing. They say we shall reach Kenneh to-morrow night late. Our boat stops at intervals of about two hours to land the mails and take in passengers. We whiled away the evening with a rubber of whist, and retired to bed most sleepy after our journey of last night.

_January 4th,_ 1891.

Still going up the river. Lovely weather; the thermometer stands at seventy-five during the day but drops to forty-five soon after sunset, so rugs and overcoats are not to be despised. They have got the railway extension[1] from Aniont to Girgeh nearly finished. This will make a good day difference in the Nile journey. Such an odd man came on board this morning, a huge Frenchman[2] dressed in the following garb. On his head an _enormous_ helmet extending right round over his shoulders, a magnificent suit of brand new kharku, the whole finished off with a pair of long brown boots right up a foot over his knees; these were ornamented with spurs. He also wore a big overcoat, and was followed by two dogs. In his hands, which were carefully gloved, he carried a long thing like an alpenstock. I suppose the latter was to keep his dogs in order. This magnificent specimen of the French race has just disembarked again. Athlumney says he looked like one of Augustus Harris’s brigands.

A telegram has just been handed to me to say that rooms for the night have been secured for me at Kenneh. This is luck, as I expected to spend the night in the open somewhere outside the town. Arrived at Kenneh landing-place at 10.30 P.M., and had the greatest difficulty in getting the baggage ashore in the dark. At last, after fighting our way through a howling mob of men and donkeys, we managed to make a goodly heap on the river bank. Our difficulties were here by no means at an end, as there was nothing on wheels to remove our things to the town, about a mile off. However, after a while two camels were forthcoming, of which we made the most by fairly smothering them with baggage. I thought they would never carry it all, but the drivers said it was nothing of a load. I was informed on landing that a hotel had just been started at Kenneh; so we determined to give it a trial. The place is kept by a most villainous-looking Greek; but really he did his best to provide for his late and unexpected guests. I really believe we are the first. Clean sheets were forthcoming, and by the help of our own rugs we managed to make a very decent shakedown. There are no windows in the house, or rather no window-frames, so the space is filled up with a kind of open Venetian blind-arrangement of wood, which lets in plenty of fresh air.

KENNEH, _January 5th,_ 1891.

Went in the morning to see my friend Hassan Effendi. He came down on the steamer with us; and, as he speaks excellent English, he has been quite a godsend. He informed me that he had found a camel sheikh, but that I must first go and visit the Mudir of the town to get permission to travel in the Eastern Desert. Accordingly, we set off together to the great man’s house. We found him seated on his divan, surrounded by his scribes and counsellors. Having been formally introduced to all the high officers of state, I was given a seat, and our “shauri” began.

Hassan Effendi explained that I had permission from the Sirdar to shoot in the Kittar mountains, but that it had not been given me in writing, which was certainly unfortunate. The Mudir thought deeply for a long time. Then he and all his supporters chattered and talked against each other, till I began to wonder what it was all about. When it was all over, Hassan Effendi told me that they had been discussing how I could possibly live in a country where there was no food. This, I explained, was easily done by means of stores carried on camels. I hoped the old boy was satisfied; but he said he would not let me go without leave from the Minister of the Interior at Cairo, and that I had better telegraph to the Sirdar to telegraph to the said Minister, who would in turn telegraph to him (the Mudir), sanctioning my departure. So matters stand at present, and I am awaiting a telegram to let me start. If it does not come to-night I shall go and “draw” the Mudir again, if only to get some more of that excellent coffee. My breakfast this morning consisted of an omelette and native black bread toasted. It is not very delicate in flavour, but I thought it better than the native bread one gets in Norway. Having only one kettle and no teapot in this establishment, they boiled the goat’s milk and tea up together, and brought it up as it was.

I rode out on a donkey with my dragoman Faragh, and succeeded in shooting fourteen pigeons and two doves. The pigeons fly very well, nice rocketing shots, and consequently give good sport. I could have shot a lot more, but had enough for our pot.

Have arranged with a camel sheikh, by name Suliman Jirmān, to pay him eighteen piastres (there are 97½ piastres in an English pound) a day for each camel. We are to have three for our baggage, one for the water in four skins, and three for riding. He says our first well, Bir ’Arrās, is dried up, so we shall have a longer distance to travel without water. He also says he knows the road to the mountain.

_January 6th,_ 1891.

Still dawdling here, as no telegram has been received from the Minister. I telegraphed to Floyer this morning, and have had a reply saying he is telegraphing to the Sirdar, and that he is sorry the Mudir is so troublesome. The worst of it is, the Sirdar is up the river about three days from Cairo, and consequently it is rather difficult to get a telegram to reach him. I visited the ancient temple of Dendera on the other side of the river, such a wonderful place. I climbed up to the top after a great scramble, and got a magnificent view of the Nile Valley, and of the mountain opposite. The hieroglyphics on the wall are in wonderfully good preservation, especially in the chamber beneath the temple. These chambers are full of bats, and smell accordingly. I took eight photographs, and shot one pigeon. We lunched in the shade of the temple. All my camels are ready for a start, and I long to be off, especially as I want to send the camels and waterskins back here for Powney.

I was just getting into bed last night when a centipede about two and a half inches long crawled out. I secured him in a tumbler and counted his legs this morning. There were over one hundred on each side of his body. The mosquitoes here are very fierce and hungry, but one never sees them on the Nile itself,—they all seem to frequent the towns. An old fossil came here to-day and offered to take me two days into the desert to shoot wolves. I suppose he meant hyænas. I declined with thanks. Great preparations are being made here to receive the Khedive, who is coming up to Wadi Halfa next week.

Such lovely weather. Mail leaves to-night.

_January 7th,_ 1891.

A telegram came from the Minister of the Interior to-day directing the Mudir to let me go but added that it was entirely on my own responsibility, and that the party must be well armed. Why such a fuss should be made I can’t understand, as there is about as much danger as in one’s own garden at home.

The old camel sheikh is quite a character, and seems very particular that our waterskins, &c., are in good order. We are to start at sunrise to-morrow. I killed seventeen pigeons to-day; there was a strong wind, so they flew like lightning. I was not in good form at first, but retrieved my character by accounting for eight birds in the last ten shots. We lunched under an enormous fig tree[3] just at the edge of the desert. The figs grew out of the trunk, and the leaves were oval. The fruit was hardly ripe, I tasted it and should say it would be very good when ripe. There was a heavy shower of rain early this morning. They tell me the average rainfall in these parts is two hours per annum. We might spare them a little from England.

BIR ARRAS, _January 8th,_ 1891.

Started this morning. Our caravan consists of twelve camels, three riding camels for myself, Froggatt (soldier servant), and Faragh the interpreter; four for all our baggage; the remainder carry waterskins and their own beans and cut straw for fodder. Besides these there are three baby camels who are following their mammas. Altogether we make up a goodly caravan.

The first march, six miles, is over flat desert, with no growth whatever till just at the end, when the Wadi curls round a spur of rocky cliff, where there is a group of stunted tamarisk trees, growing each on a mound of sandy soil formed of tangled roots. We pitched our first camp here under a tamarisk tree, the only one worthy of the name, and set to work to cook our dinner, consisting of bread and pea soup, which latter I am quite an adept at making in the following manner:—boil a lot of dried Egyptian peas in the saucepan till fairly soft, then pound them up with one of the tent peg mallets. Next add salt and pepper, also a few stalks of a plant which grows in the sand and resembles mint[4] (I think it is really artemisia). Strain the decoction through a piece of mosquito curtain, and eat hot. I don’t believe S——— could make better soup with all her pots and pans at home.

Our old camel sheikh took leave of us at Kenneh, and handed us over to the care of his son and grandson, who looks after my camel, a white one, the pick of the herd. There are also three other drivers. They all carry long guns, like pieces of gaspipe about as long as telegraph poles, which are fired with a slow match. They can’t be less than two hundred years old.

KASR EL JINN, _January 9th,_ 1891.

Started again at 8.30 A.M. after a light breakfast of eggs and bread. The nights are cold, the temperature falls to 38° Fahr. by 8 A.M., then rises to over 90° by midday—rather a difference. A short march to-day to Kasr el Jinn, meaning the fort of the Evil Spirit. It is only about twelve miles from our last camp, and we reached it at 3 P.M. This used to be an old Roman station, and is built on the top of a hill. The walls at the base are very thick, and built of big stones surmounted by sun-dried bricks, which are now quite decayed and in ruins. I went and dug with a “Wallace” spade for anything I might find; but there was nothing but bits of broken pottery. The whole place is choked with sand, and I soon got tired of digging in the sun. The desert was most dreary all to-day, nothing to relieve the monotony of the journey, and a camel goes so slowly, about two and a half miles an hour. I frequently got off and walked, leaving the caravan far behind.

We see a lovely mirage every now and again. We halt always for twenty minutes lunch at midday under the shade of our kneeling camels. Something went wrong with the pea soup this evening, which was not quite up to the mark. It is very amusing to watch the camels scrambling for their ration of beans after their march. They have nosebags put on and stand feeding for all the world like a lot of London cab-horses.

MUSKIA (SAKIA), _January 10th,_ 1891.

Made a good march to-day—nearly ten miles, pitching our camp about two miles short of the foothills which surround our mountain, which can now be seen looming big in the distance. We lunched to-day close to another old Roman station,[5] a large square hole about two hundred feet across and perhaps thirty-one feet deep. It evidently, once upon a time, contained water, as there are still the ruins of an old cistern surrounding it, in which the water was stored. The Wadi here branches off into two, one leads away eastward towards the Red Sea, the other still takes us on towards our destination. We now come to a few scattered mimosa bushes and dried up thistles—in fact, our camp to-day is surrounded by little greeny-brown shrubs, so we get plenty of firewood. Came upon gazelle tracks to-day, and at about 3 P.M. the keen eyes of my camel driver espied three of those pretty creatures scampering away in the distance. Dined on bread and sardines to-night, washed down by milkless tea. Saw two crows and a hawk to-day. I wonder what they find to eat and drink.

WADI MEDISA, _January 11th,_ 1891.

Started as usual about 8.30 A.M., and in about an hour entered the foothills. The Wadi now becomes narrower and improves in appearance, being decorated with two or three different kinds of scrub, some of which are really quite green. The valley is swarming with locusts, which are preyed upon by great numbers of hungry hawks and a few crows. We also saw two kinds of butterflies—the common English painted lady, and a small white one. Saw more gazelle to-day; they are very shy. These low mountains are of black granite and look like gigantic cinderheaps. The midday sun is “powerful” hot, and one longs for a little shade. We made a large, cheery camp fire this evening, and I sat and wondered what you were all of you doing at home— probably enjoying a good dinner. It is deadly still here; nothing to break the stillness of the night but the munching of the camels as they chew the cud. There is a planet rises at about 2 A.M., which is so bright that it casts a shadow like the moon. I suppose it is Jupiter, or perhaps it is the star Sirius.

MEDISA, _January 12th,_ 1891.