Journal of Herbert Edward Pretyman written during his expedition to the Kittar Mountains, between Kenneh (on the Nile) and the Red Sea, 1891 — A Closer Reading

Diction: Precision and Understatement

Pretyman's diction is consistently precise and understated. He describes shooting an ibex: 'The shot hit him just right fortunately, and he fell stone dead right to the bottom of the precipice.' The word 'fortunately' is typical—luck is acknowledged without drama. When a tent is blown down, he notes, 'Luckily the bamboo ridge pole did not break, so we put up our home again; but presently another devil came, and blew it down a second time.' The repetition of 'devil' for dust devil is a specific, colloquial term that grounds the description in the local environment.

His vocabulary for landscape is similarly exact: 'low cinder mountains,' 'deep gorge,' 'precipice.' He distinguishes between types of water sources—'pools,' 'wells,' 'dirty water'—and notes their capacity: 'enough to water one hundred camels.' This precision reflects a military officer's eye for detail and a practical concern with survival.

Dialogue and Reported Speech

Dialogue is rare in the journal, but reported speech appears in key moments. Pretyman writes that 'our men had reported some partridges (probably sandgrouse) as having been there in the morning.' The parenthetical correction shows his own knowledge overriding local report. When describing a well, he notes it is 'the worst we have so far seen; so dirty, in fact, that it has all to be boiled and filtered before we can use it.' The phrase 'in fact' introduces a factual clarification, not a narrative embellishment.

The only direct speech is implied in the preface, where Frederic Pretyman quotes his son's likely thought: 'The last thought, I feel sure, that would have ever crossed his mind was that this simple record... would ever see the light.' This framing emphasizes the journal's unpolished, private nature.

Description of Environment and Routine

Pretyman's descriptions blend environmental observation with daily routine. He notes temperature: 'The thermometer fell to “freezing” during the night.' He records wind: 'The north wind was like ice all day, and the fog of this morning never quite cleared off.' These details are woven into accounts of hunting, camp chores, and food shortages. For instance, 'We had to kill our pet goat to-day for food, as we have no meat and our flour is running short. We make our bread now—half flour and half potatoes.'

The journal also includes moments of aesthetic appreciation: 'Lovely sunset this evening.' But such remarks are brief, never elaborated. The overall effect is a cumulative portrait of a harsh environment where beauty is noted but not dwelled upon.

Structure and Narrative Voice

The journal's structure—dated entries of varying length—creates a rhythm of expectation. Each entry typically begins with weather, then moves to hunting or camp activities. Pretyman's narrative voice is consistent: first-person, past tense, with occasional shifts to present tense for immediacy ('We are getting short of meat'). He uses passive constructions sparingly, preferring active verbs: 'I stayed in camp and busied myself preparing the skin, head, and feet, &c., of yesterday’s ibex.'

The inclusion of photographs, listed in the front matter, suggests a visual complement to the text. The journal's private origin is evident in its lack of explanatory context; readers must infer the expedition's purpose from the preface and catalog metadata. This restraint is a deliberate authorial choice, preserving the document's authenticity.

Pretyman's journal offers a window into the daily realities of a late-Victorian explorer. Its value lies not in dramatic narrative but in the accumulation of small, precise details: the temperature at dawn, the taste of bread made with half potatoes, the sight of a camel driver tumbling off his mount. Readers should approach the text as a primary source, attending to what Pretyman chooses to record and what he omits. The annotations by Floyer, though not excerpted here, may provide additional context. This is a document of survival, not adventure, and its understated tone is its greatest strength.

There’s something about how Pretyman notes the quiet details—the dust, the camel’s stumble—that stayed with me long after. I felt that same lingering warmth reading Wanderings of a pilgrim in search of the picturesque, Volume 2 (of 2) — A Closer Reading. It holds that same unhurried, almost tender attention to what most would overlook.