Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al-Madinah & Meccah by Sir Richard Francis Burton (page 4)

future, overwhelmed me with questions, insisted upon a present of sweetmeats, detected in me a great man under a cloud,-perhaps my claims to being a Darwaysh assisted them to this discovery,-and declared that I should perforce be their guest at Meccah and Al-Madinah. On all occasions precedence was forced upon me; my opinion was the first consulted, and no project was settled without my concurrence: briefly, Abdullah the Darwaysh suddenly found himself a person of consequence. This elevation led me into an imprudence which might have cost me dear; aroused the only suspicion about me ever expressed during the summer’s tour. My friends had looked at my clothes, overhauled my medicine chest, and criticised my pistols; they sneered at my copper-cased watch,[FN#4] and remembered having seen a compass at Constantinople. Therefore I imagined they would think little about a sextant. This was a mistake. The boy Mohammed, I

[p.167]afterwards learned,[FN#5] waited only my leaving the room to declare that the would-be Haji was one of the Infidels from India, and a council sat to discuss the case. Fortunately for me, Omar Effendi had looked over a letter which I had written to Haji Wali that morning, and he had at various times received categorical replies to certain questions in high theology. He felt himself justified in declaring, ex cathedra, the boy Mohammed’s position perfectly untenable. And Shaykh Hamid, who looked forward to being my host, guide, and debtor in general, and probably cared scantily for catechism or creed, swore that the light of Al-Islam was upon my countenance, and, consequently, that the boy Mohammed was a pauper, a “fakir,” an owl, a cut-off one,[FN#6] a stranger, and a Wahhabi (heretic), for daring to impugn the faith of a brother believer.[FN#7] The scene ended with a general abuse of the acute youth, who was told on all sides that he had no shame, and was directed to “fear Allah.” I was struck with the expression of my friends’ countenances when they saw the sextant, and, determining with a sigh to

[p.168]leave it behind, I prayed five times a day for nearly a week.

We all agreed not to lose an hour in securing places on board some vessel bound for Yambu’; and my companions, hearing that my passport as a British Indian was scarcely en regle, earnestly advised me to have it signed by the governor without delay, whilst they occupied themselves about the harbour. They warned me that if I displayed the Turkish Tazkirah given me at the citadel of Cairo, I should infallibly be ordered to await the caravan, and lose their society and friendship. Pilgrims arriving at Alexandria, be it known to the reader, are divided into bodies, and distributed by means of passports to the three great roads, namely, Suez, Kusayr (Cosseir), and the Hajj route by land round the Gulf of al-‘Akabah. After the division has once been made, government turns a deaf ear to the representations of individuals. The Bey of Suez has an order to obstruct pilgrims as much as possible till the end of the season, when they are hurried down that way, lest they should arrive at Meccah too late.[FN#8] As most of the Egyptian high officials have boats, which sail up the Nile laden with pilgrims and return freighted with corn, the government naturally does its utmost to force the delays and discomforts of this line upon strangers.[FN#9] And as those who travel by the Hajj route must spend money in the Egyptian territories at least fifteen days longer than they would if allowed to

[p.169]embark at once from Suez, the Bey very properly assists them in the former and obstructs them in the latter case. Knowing these facts, I felt that a difficulty was at hand. The first thing was to take Shaykh Nur’s passport, which was en regle, and my own, which was not, to the Bey for signature. He turned the papers over and over, as if unable to read them, and raised false hopes high by referring me to his clerk. The under-official at once saw the irregularity of the document, asked me why it had not been vise at Cairo, swore that under such circumstances nothing would induce the Bey to let me proceed; and, when I tried persuasion, waxed insolent. I feared that it would be necessary to travel via Cosseir, for which there was scarcely time, or to transfer myself on camel-back to the harbour of Tur, and there to await the chance of finding a place in some half-filled vessel to Al-Hijaz,-which would have been relying upon an accident. My last hope at Suez was to obtain assistance from Mr. West, then H.B.M.’s Vice-Consul, and since made Consul. I therefore took the boy Mohammed with me, choosing him on purpose, and excusing the step to my companions by concocting an artful fable about my having been, in Afghanistan, a benefactor to the British nation. We proceeded to the Consulate. Mr. West, who had been told by imprudent Augustus Bernal to expect me, saw through the disguise, despite jargon assumed to satisfy official scruples, and nothing could be kinder than the part he took. His clerk was directed to place himself in communication with the Bey’s factotum; and, when objections to signing the Alexandrian Tazkirah were offered, the Vice-Consul said that he would, at his own risk, give me a fresh passport as a British subject from Suez to Arabia. His firmness prevailed: on the second day, the documents were returned to me in a satisfactory state. I take a pleasure in owning this obligation to Mr. West: in the course of my wanderings, I have often

[p.170] received from him open-hearted hospitality and the most friendly attentions.

Whilst these passport difficulties were being solved, the rest of the party was as busy in settling about passage and passage-money. The peculiar rules of the port of Suez require a few words of explanation.[FN#10] “About thirty-five years ago” (i.e. about 1818 A.D.), “the ship-owners proposed to the then government, with the view of keeping up freight, a Farzah, or system of rotation. It might be supposed that the Pasha, whose object notoriously was to retain all monoplies in his own hands, would have refused his sanction to such a measure. But it so happened in those days that all the court had ships at Suez: Ibrahim Pasha alone owned four or five. Consequently, they expected to share profits with the merchants, and thus to be compensated for the want of port-dues. From that time forward all the vessels in the harbour were registered, and ordered to sail in rotation. This arrangement benefits the owner of the craft ‘en depart,’ giving him in his turn a temporary monopoly, with the advantage of a full market; and freight is so high that a single trip often clears off the expense of building and the risk of losing the ship-a sensible succedaneum for insurance companies. On the contrary, the public must always be a loser by the ‘Farzah.’ Two of a trade do not agree elsewhere; but at Suez even the Christian and the Moslem shipowner are bound by a fraternal tie, in the shape of this rotation system. It injures the general merchant and the Red Sea trader, not only by

[p.171] perpetuating high freight,[FN#11] but also by causing at one period of the year a break in the routine of sales and in the supplies of goods for the great Jeddah market.[FN#12] At this moment (Nov. 1853), the vessel to which the turn belongs happens to be a large one; there is a deficiency of export to Al-Hijaz,-her owner will of course wait any length of time for a full cargo; consequently no vessel with merchandise has left Suez for the last seventy-two days. Those who have bought goods for the Jeddah market at three months’ credit will therefore have to meet their acceptances for merchandise still warehoused at the Egyptian port. This strange contrast to free-trade principle is another proof that protection benefits only one party, the protected, while it is detrimental to the interests of the other party, the public.” To these remarks of Mr. Levick’s, I have only to add that the government supports the Farzah with all the energy of protectionists. A letter from Mr. (now Sir) John Drummond Hay was insufficient to induce the Bey of Suez to break through the rule of rotation in favour of certain princes from Morocco. The recommendations of Lord Stratford de Redcliffe met with no better fate; and all Mr. West’s good will could not procure

[p.172]me a vessel out of her turn.[FN#13] We were forced to rely upon our own exertions, and the activity of Sa’ad the Demon. This worthy, after sundry delays and differences, mostly caused by his own determination to travel gratis, and to make us pay too much, finally closed with the owner of the “Golden Thread.[FN#14]” He took places for us upon the poop,-the most eligible part of the vessel at this season of the year; he premised that we should not be very comfortable, as we were to be crowded with Maghrabi pilgrims, but that “Allah makes all things easy!” Though not penetrated with the conviction that this would happen in our case, I paid for two deck passages eighteen Riyals[FN#15] (dollars), and my companions seven each, whilst Sa’ad secretly entered himself as an able seaman. Mohammed Shiklibha we were obliged to leave behind, as he could not, or might not afford the expense, and none of us might afford it for him. Had I known him to be the honest, true-hearted fellow he was-his kindness at Meccah quite won my heart-I should not have grudged the small charity.

[p.173]Nothing more comfortless than our days and nights in the “George” Inn. The ragged walls of our rooms were clammy with dirt, the smoky rafters foul with cobwebs, and the floor, bestrewed with kit, in terrible confusion, was black with hosts of cockroaches, ants, and flies. Pigeons nestled on the shelf, cooing amatory ditties the live-long day, and cats like tigers crawled through a hole in the door, making night hideous with their caterwaulings. Now a curious goat, then an inquisitive jackass, would walk stealthily into the room, remark that it was tenanted, and retreat with dignified demeanour, and the mosquitos sang Io Paeans over our prostrate forms throughout the twenty-four hours. I spare the reader the enumeration of the other Egyptian plagues that infested the place. After the first day’s trial, we determined to spend the hours of light in the passages, lying upon our boxes or rugs, smoking, wrangling, and inspecting one another’s chests. The latter occupation was a fertile source of disputes, for nothing was more common than for a friend to seize an article belonging to another, and to swear by the Apostle’s beard that he admired it, and, therefore, would not return it. The boy Mohammed and Shaykh Nur, who had been intimates the first day, differed in opinion on the second, and on the third came to pushing each other against the wall. Sometimes we went into the Bazar, a shady street flanked with poor little shops, or we sat in the coffee-house,[FN#16] drinking hot saltish water tinged with burnt bean, or we prayed in one of three tumble-down old Mosques, or we squatted upon the pier, lamenting the want of Hammams, and bathing in the tepid sea.[FN#17] I presently came to the conclusion that

[p.174]Suez as a “watering-place” is duller even than Dover. The only society we found, excepting an occasional visitor, was that of a party of Egyptian women, who with their husbands and families occupied some rooms adjoining ours. At first they were fierce, and used bad language, when the boy Mohammed and I,-whilst Omar Effendi was engaged in prayer, and the rest were wandering about the town,-ventured to linger in the cool passage, where they congregated, or to address a facetious phrase to them. But hearing that I was a Hakim-bashi-for fame had promoted me to the rank of a “Physician General” at Suez-all discovered some ailments. They began prudently with requesting me to display the effects of my drugs by dosing myself, but they ended submissively by swallowing the nauseous compounds. To this succeeded a primitive form of flirtation, which mainly consisted of the demand direct. The most charming of the party was one Fattumah[FN#18], a plump-personed dame, fast verging upon her thirtieth year, fond of a little flattery, and possessing, like all her people, a most voluble tongue. The refrain of every conversation was “Marry me, O Fattumah! O daughter! O female pilgrim!” In vain the lady would reply, with a coquettish movement of the sides, a toss of the head, and a flirting manipulation of her head-veil,

[p.175]”I am mated, O young man!”-it was agreed that she, being a person of polyandrous propensities, could support the weight of at least three matrimonial engagements. Sometimes the entrance of the male Fellahs[FN#19] interrupted these little discussions, but people of our respectability and nation were not to be imposed upon by such husbands. In their presence we only varied the style of conversation-inquiring the amount of “Mahr,” or marriage settlement, deriding the cheapness of womanhood in Egypt, and requiring to be furnished on the spot with brides at the rate of ten shillings a head.[FN#20] More often the amiable Fattumah-the fair sex in this country, though passing frail, have the best tempers in the world-would laugh at our impertinences. Sometimes vexed by our imitating her Egyptian accent, mimicking her gestures, and depreciating her country-women,[FN#21] she would wax wroth, and order us to be gone, and stretch out her forefinger-a sign that she wished to put out our eyes, or adjure Allah to cut the hearts out of our bosoms. Then

[p.176]the “Marry me, O Fattumah, O daughter, O female pilgrim!” would give way to Y’al Ago-o-oz! (O old woman and decrepit!) “O daughter of sixty sires, and fit only to carry wood to market!”-whereupon would burst a storm of wrath, at the tail of which all of us, like children, starting upon our feet, rushed out of one another’s way. But-“qui se dispute, s’adore”-when we again met all would be forgotten, and the old tale be told over de novo. This was the amusement of the day. At night we men, assembling upon the little terrace, drank tea, recited stories, read books, talked of our travels, and indulged in various pleasantries. The great joke was the boy Mohammed’s abusing all his companions to their faces in Hindustani, which none but Shaykh Nur and I could understand; the others, however, guessed his intention, and revenged themselves by retorts of the style uncourteous in the purest Hijazi.

I proceed to offer a few more extracts from Mr. Levick’s letter about Suez and the Suezians. “It appears that the number of pilgrims who pass through Suez to Meccah has of late been steadily on the decrease. When I first came here (in 1838) the pilgrims who annually embarked at this port amounted to between 10,000 and 12,000, the shipping was more numerous, and the merchants were more affluent.[FN#22] I have ascertained from a special register kept in the government archives that in the Moslem year 1268 (A.D. 1851-52) the exact number that passed through was 4893.”

“In 1269 A.H. (A.D. 1852-53) it had shrunk to 3136. The natives assign the falling off to various causes, which [p.177]I attribute chiefly to the indirect effect of European civilisation upon the Moslem powers immediately in contact with it. The heterogeneous mass of pilgrims is composed of people of all classes, colours, and costumes. One sees among them, not only the natives of countries contiguous to Egypt, but also a large proportion of Central Asians from Bokhara, Persia, Circassia, Turkey, and the Crimea, who prefer this route by way of Constantinople to the difficult, expensive and dangerous caravan-line through the Desert from Damascus and Baghdad. The West sends us Moors, Algerines, and Tunisians, and Inner Africa a mass of sable Takrouri,[FN#23] and others from Bornou, the Sudan,[FN#24] Ghadamah near the Niger, and Jabarti from the Habash.[FN#25]”

“The Suez ship-builders are an influential body of men, originally Candiots and Alexandrians. When Mohammed Ali fitted out his fleet for the Hijaz war, he transported a number of Greeks to Suez, and the children now exercise their fathers’ craft. There are at present three great builders at this place. Their principal difficulty

[p.178]is the want of material. Teak comes from India[FN#26] via Jeddah, and Venetian boards, owing to the expense of camel-transport, are a hundred per cent. dearer here than at Alexandria. Trieste and Turkey supply spars, and Jeddah canvas: the sail-makers are Suez men, and the crews a mongrel mixture of Arabs and Egyptians; the Rais, or captain, being almost invariably, if the vessel be a large one, a Yambu’ man. There are two kinds of craft, distinguished from each other by tonnage, not by build. The Baghlah[FN#27] (buggalow), is a vessel above fifty tons burden, the Sambuk (a classical term) from fifteen to fifty. The shipowner bribes the Amir al-Bahr, or port-captain, and the Nazir al-Safayn, or the captain commanding the government vessels, to rate his ship as high as possible; if he pay the price, he will be allowed nine ardebs to the ton.[FN#28] The number of ships belonging to the port of Suez amounts to 92; they vary from 25 to 250 tons. The departures in A.H. 1269 (1852 and 1853) were 38, so that each vessel, after returning from a trip, is laid up for about two years. Throughout the passage of the pilgrims,-that is to say, during four months,-the departures average twice a week; during the remainder of the year from six to ten vessels may leave the port. The homeward trade is carried on principally in Jeddah bottoms, which are allowed to convey goods to Suez, but not to take in return cargo there: they must not interfere with, nor may they partake in any way of the benefits of the rotation system.[FN#29]”

[p.179]”During the present year the imports were contained in 41,395 packages, the exports in 15,988. Specie makes up in some manner for this preponderance of imports: a sum of from L30,000 to L40,000, in crown, or Maria Theresa, dollars annually leaves Egypt for Arabia, Abyssinia, and other parts of Africa. I value the imports at about L350,000; the export trade to Jeddah at L300,000 per annum. The former consists principally of coffee and gum-arabic; of these there were respectively 17,460 and 15,132 bales, the aggregate value of each article being from L75,000 to L80,000, and the total amount L160,000. In the previous year the imports were contained in 36,840 packages, the exports in 13,498: of the staple articles-coffee and gum-arabic-they were respectively 15,499 and 14,129 bales, each bale being valued at about L5. Next in importance comes wax from Al-Yaman and the Hijaz, mother-of-pearl[FN#30] from the Red Sea, sent to England in rough, pepper from Malabar, cloves brought by Moslem pilgrims from Java, Borneo, and Singapore,[FN#31] cherry pipe-sticks from Persia and Bussora, and Persian or Surat ‘Timbak’ (tobacco). These I value at L20,000 per annum. There were also (A.D. 1853) of cloves 708 packages, and of Malabar pepper 948: the cost of these two might be L7,000. Minor articles of exportation are,-general spiceries (ginger, cardamons,

[p.180] &c.); Eastern perfumes, such as aloes-wood, attar of rose, attar of pink and others; tamarinds from India and Al-Yaman, Banca tin, hides supplied by the nomade Badawin, senna leaves from Al-Yaman and the Hijaz, and blue chequered cotton Malayahs (women’s mantillas), manufactured in southern Arabia. The total value of these smaller imports may be L20,000 per annum.”

“The exports chiefly consist of English and native ‘grey domestics,’ bleached Madipilams, Paisley lappets, and muslins for turbands; the remainder being Manchester prints, antimony, Syrian soap, iron in bars, and common ironmongery, Venetian or Trieste beads, used as ornaments in Arabia and Abyssinia, writing paper, Tarbushes, Papushes (slippers), and other minor articles of dress and ornament.”

“The average annual temperature of the year at Suez is 67° Fahrenheit. The extremes of heat and cold are found in January and August; during the former month the thermometer ranges from a minimum of 38° to a maximum of 68°; during the latter the variation extends from 68° to 102°, or even to 104°, when the heat becomes oppressive. Departures from these extremes are rare. I never remember to have seen the thermometer rise above 108° during the severest Khamsin, or to have sunk below 34° in the rawest wintry wind. Violent storms come up from the south in March. Rain is very variable[FN#32]:

[p.181] sometimes three years have passed without a shower, whereas in 1841 torrents poured for nine successive days, deluging the town, and causing many buildings to fall.”

“The population of Suez now numbers about 4,800. As usual in Mohammedan countries no census is taken here. Some therefore estimate the population at 6,000. Sixteen years ago it was supposed to be under 3,000. After that time it rapidly increased till 1850, when a fatal attack of cholera reduced it to about half its previous number. The average mortality is about twelve a month.[FN#33] The endemic diseases are fevers of typhoid and intermittent types in spring, when strong northerly winds cause the waters of the bay to recede,[FN#34] and leave a miasma-breeding swamp exposed to the rays of the sun. In the months of October and November febrile attacks are violent; ophthalmia more so. The eye-disease is not so general here as at Cairo, but the symptoms are more acute; in some years it becomes a virulent epidemic, which ends either in total blindness or in a partial opacity of the cornea, inducing dimness of vision, and a permanent weakness of the eyes. In one month three of my acquaintances lost their sight. Dysenteries are also common, and so are bad boils, or rather ulcers. The cold season is not unwholesome, and at this period the

[p.182] pure air of the Desert restores and invigorates the heat-wasted frame.”

“The walls, gates, and defences of Suez are in a ruinous state, being no longer wanted to keep out the Sinaitic Badawin. The houses are about 500 in number, but many of the natives prefer occupying the upper stories of the Wakalahs, the rooms on the ground floor serving for stores to certain merchandise, wood, dates, cotton, &c. The Suezians live well, and their bazar is abundantly stocked with meat and clarified butter brought from Sinai, and fowls, corn, and vegetables from the Sharkiyah province; fruit is supplied by Cairo as well as by the Sharkiyah, and wheat conveyed down the Nile in flood to the capital is carried on camel-back across the Desert. At sunrise they eat the Fatur, or breakfast, which in summer consists of a ‘fatirah,’ a kind of muffin, or of bread and treacle. In winter it is more substantial, being generally a mixture of lentils and rice,[FN#35] with clarified butter poured over it, and a ‘kitchen’ of pickled lime or stewed onions. At this season they greatly enjoy the ‘ful mudammas’ (boiled horse-beans),[FN#36] eaten with an abundance of linseed oil, into which they steep bits of bread. The beans form, with carbon-generating matter, a highly nutritive diet, which, if the stomach can digest it,-the pulse is never shelled,-gives great strength. About the middle of the day comes ‘Al-Ghada,’ a light dinner of wheaten bread, with dates, onions or cheese: in the hot season melons and cooling

[p.183] fruits are preferred, especially by those who have to face the sun. ‘Al-Asha,’ or supper, is served about half an hour after sunset; at this meal all but the poorest classes eat meat. Their favourite flesh, as usual in this part of the world, is mutton; beef and goat are little prized.[FN#37]”

The people of Suez are a finer and fairer race than the Cairenes. The former have more the appearance of Arabs: their dress is more picturesque, their eyes are carefully darkened with Kohl, and they wear sandals, not slippers. They are, according to all accounts, a turbulent and somewhat fanatic set, fond of quarrels, and slightly addicted to “pronunciamentos.” The general programme of one of these latter diversions is said to be as follows. The boys will first be sent by their fathers about the town in a disorderly mob, and ordered to cry out “Long live the Sultan!” with its usual sequel, “Death to the Infidels!” The Infidels, Christians or others, must hear and may happen to resent this; or possibly the governor, foreseeing a disturbance, orders an ingenuous youth or two to be imprisoned, or to be caned by the police. Whereupon some person, rendered influential by wealth or religious reputation, publicly complains that the Christians are all in all, and that in these evil days Al-Islam is going to destruction. On this occasion the speaker conducts himself with such insolence, that the governor perforce consigns him to confinement, which exasperates the populace still more. Secret meetings are now convened, and in them the chiefs of corporations assume a prominent position. If the disturbance be intended by its main-spring to subside quietly, the conspirators are allowed to take their own way; they will drink copiously, become lions about midnight, and recover their hare-hearts before noon next

[p.184] day. But if mischief be intended, a case of bloodshed is brought about, and then nothing can arrest the torrent of popular rage.[FN#38] The Egyptian, with all his good humour, merriment, and nonchalance, is notorious for doggedness, when, as the popular phrase is, his “blood is up.” And this, indeed, is his chief merit as a soldier. He has a certain mechanical dexterity in the use of arms, and an Egyptian regiment will fire a volley as correctly as a battalion at Chobham. But when the head, and not the hands, is required, he notably fails. The reason of his superiority in the field is his peculiar stubborness, and this, together with his powers of digestion and of enduring hardship on the line of march, is the quality that makes him terrible to his old conqueror, the Turk.[FN#39]

[FN#1] When travelling, the Shushah is allowed to spread over the greatest portion of the scalp, to act as a protection against the sun; and the hair being shaved off about two inches all round the head, leaves a large circular patch. Nothing can be uglier than such tonsure, and it is contrary to the strict law of the Apostle, who ordered a clean shave, or a general growth of the hair. The Arab, however, knows by experience, that though habitual exposure of the scalp to a burning sun may harden the skull, it seldom fails to damage its precious contents. He, therefore, wears a Shushah during his wanderings, and removes it on his return home. Abu Hanifah, if I am rightly informed, wrote a treatise advocating the growth of a long lock of hair on the Nasiyah, or crown of the head, lest the decapitated Moslem’s mouth or beard be exposed to defilement by an impure hand. This would justify the comparing it to the “chivalry-lock,” by which the American brave facilitates the removal of his own scalp. But I am at a loss to discover the origin of our old idea, that the “angel of death will, on the last day, bear all true believers, by this important tuft of hair on the crown, to Paradise.” Probably this office has been attributed to the Shushah by the ignorance of the West. [FN#2] “Makhi-chus,” equivalent to our “skin-flint.” [FN#3] A well-known Arab chieftain, whose name has come to stand for generosity itself.
[FN#4] This being an indispensable instrument for measuring distances, I had it divested of gold case, and provided with a facing carefully stained and figured with Arabic numerals. In countries where few can judge of a watch by its works, it is as well to secure its safety by making the exterior look as mean as possible. The watches worn by respectable people in Al-Hijaz are almost a1ways old silver pieces, of the turnip shape, with hunting cases and an outer etui of thick leather. Mostly they are of Swiss or German manufacture, and they find their way into Arabia via Constantinople and Cairo. [FN#5] On my return to Cairo, Omar Effendi, whom I met accidentally in the streets, related the story to me. I never owned having played a part, to avoid shocking his prejudices; and though he must have suspected me,-for the general report was, that an Englishman, disguised as a Persian, had performed the pilgrimage, measured the country, and sketched the buildings,-he had the gentlemanly feeling never to allude to the past. We parted, when I went to India, on the best of terms. [FN#6] Munkati’a-one cut off (from the pleasures and comforts of life). In Al-Hijaz, as in England, any allusion to poverty is highly offensive. [FN#7] The Koran expressly forbids a Moslem to discredit the word of any man who professes his belief in the Saving Faith. The greatest offence of the Wahhabis is their habit of designating all Moslems that belong to any but their own sect by the opprobrious name of Kafirs or infidels. This, however, is only the Koranic precept; in practice a much less trustful spirit prevails.
[FN#8] Towards the end of the season, poor pilgrims are forwarded gratis, by order of government. But, to make such liberality as inexpensive as possible, the Pasha compels ship-owners to carry one pilgrim per 9 ardebs (about 5 bushels each), in small, and 1 per 11 in large vessels.
[FN#9] I was informed by a Prussian gentleman, holding an official appointment under His Highness the Pasha, at Cairo, that 300,000 ardebs of grain were annually exported from Kusayr to Jeddah. The rest is brought down the Nile for consumption in Lower Egypt, and export to Europe.
[FN#10] The account here offered to the reader was kindly supplied to me by Henry Levick, Esq. (late Vice-Consul, and afterwards Post-master at Suez), and it may be depended upon, as coming from a resident of 16 years’ standing. All the passages marked with inverted commas are extracts from a letter with which that gentleman favoured me. The information is obsolete now, but it may be interesting as a specimen of the things that were.
[FN#11] The rate of freight is at present (1853) about forty shillings per ton-very near the same paid by the P. and O. Company for coals carried from Newcastle via the Cape to Suez. Were the “Farzah” abolished, freight to Jeddah would speedily fall to 15 or 16 shillings per ton. Passengers from Suez to Jeddah are sometimes charged as much as 6 or even 8 dollars for standing room-personal baggage forming another pretext for extortion-and the higher orders of pilgrims, occupying a small portion of the cabin, pay about 12 dollars. These first and second class fares would speedily be reduced, by abolishing protection, to 3 and 6 dollars. Note to Second Edition.-The “Farzah,” I may here observe, has been abolished by Sa’id Pasha since the publication of these lines: the effects of “free trade” are exactly what were predicted by Mr. Levick.
[FN#12] The principal trade from Suez is to Jeddah, Kusayr supplying Yambu’. The latter place, however, imports from Suez wheat, beans, cheese, biscuit, and other provisions for return pilgrims. [FN#13] My friends were strenuous in their exertions for me to make interest with Mr. West. In the first place, we should have paid less for the whole of a privileged vessel, than we did for our wretched quarters on the deck of the pilgrim-ship; and, secondly, we might have touched at any port we pleased, so as to do a little business in the way of commerce.
[FN#14] Afterwards called by Sir R. F. Burton the “Golden Wire.”-ED. [FN#15] For the “Sath,” or poop, the sum paid by each was seven Riyals. I was, therefore, notably cheated by Sa’ad the Demon. The unhappy women in the “Kamrah,” or cabin, bought suffocation at the rate of 6 dollars each, as I was afterwards informed, and the third class, in the “Taht,” or amidships and forward, contributed from 3 to 5 Riyals. But, as usua1 on these occasions, there was no prix fixe; every man was either overcharged or undercharged, according to his means or his necessities. We had to purchase our own water, but the ship was to supply us with fuel for cooking. We paid nothing extra for luggage, and we carried an old Maghrabi woman gratis for good luck. [FN#16] We were still at Suez, where we could do as we pleased. But respectable Arabs in their own country, unlike Egyptians, are seldom to be seen in the places of public resort. “Go to the coffee-house and sing there!” is a reproach sometimes addressed to those who have a habit of humming in decent society.
[FN#17] It was only my prestige as physician that persuaded my friend to join me in these bathings. As a general rule, the Western Arabs avoid cold water, from a belief that it causes fever. When Mr. C. Cole, H.B.M.’s Vice-Consul, arrived at Jeddah, the people of the place, seeing that he kept up his Indian habits, advised him strongly to drop them. He refused; but unhappily he soon caught a fever, which confirmed them all in their belief. When Arabs wish to cool the skin after a journey, they wash with a kind of fuller’s earth called “Tafl,” or with a thin paste of henna, and then anoint the body with oil or butter. [FN#18] An incrementative form of the name “Fatimah,” very common in Egypt. Fatimah would mean a “weaner”-Fattumah, a “great weaner.” By the same barbarism Khadijah becomes “Khaddugah”; Aminah, “Ammunah”; and Nafisah, “Naffusah,” on the banks of the Nile. [FN#19] The palmy days of the Egyptian husband, when he might use the stick, the sword, or the sack with impunity, are, in civilised places at least, now gone by. The wife has only to complain to the Kazi, or to the governor, and she is certain of redress. This is right in the abstract, but in practice it acts badly. The fair sex is so unruly in this country, that strong measures are necessary to coerce it, and in the arts of deceit men have here little or no chance against women. [FN#20] The amount of settlement being, among Moslems as among Christians, the test of a bride’s value,-moral and physical,-it will readily be understood that our demand was more facetious than complimentary.
[FN#21] The term Misriyah (an Egyptian woman) means in Al-Hijaz and the countries about it, a depraved character. Even the men own unwillingly to being Egyptians, for the free-born never forget that the banks of the Nile have for centuries been ruled by the slaves of slaves. “He shall be called an Egyptian,” is a denunciation which has been strikingly fulfilled, though the country be no longer the “basest of kingdoms.”
[FN#22] In those days merchants depended solely upon the native trade and the passage of pilgrims. The pecuniary advantage attending what is called the Overland transit benefits chiefly the lowest orders, camel-men, sailors, porters, and others of the same class. Sixteen years ago the hire of a boat from the harbour to the roadstead was a piastre and a half: now it is at least five. [FN#23] This word, says Mansfield Parkyns (Life in Abyssinia), is applied to the wandering pilgrim from Darfur, Dar Borghu, Bayarimah, Fellatah, and Western Africa. He mentions, however, a tribe called “Tokrouri,” settled in Abyssinia near Nimr’s country, but he does not appear to know that the ancient Arab settlement in Western Africa, “Al-Takrur,” (Sakatu?) which has handed down its name to a large posterity of small kingdoms, will be found in Al-Idrisi (1. climate, 1. section,); but I do not agree with the learned translator in writing the word “Tokrour.” Burckhardt often alludes in his benevolent way to the “respectable and industrious Tekrourys.” I shall have occasion to mention them at a future time.
[FN#24] The Sudan (Blackland) in Arabia is applied to Upper Nubia, Senaar, Kordofan, and the parts adjacent. [FN#25] Not only in Ghiz, but also in Arabic, the mother of Ghiz, the word “Habash,” whence our “Abyssinians,” means a rabble, a mixture of people. Abyssinian Moslems are called by the Arabs “Jabarti.” [FN#26] There is no such thing as a tree, except the date, the tamarisk, and the mimosa on the western shores of the Red Sea. [FN#27] This word, which in Arabic is the feminine form of “Baghl,” a mule, is in Egypt, as in India, pronounced and written by foreigners “buggalow.” Some worthy Anglo-Indians have further corrupted it to “bungalow.”
[FN#28] “The ardeb, like most measures in this country of commercial confusion, varies greatly according to the grain for which it is used. As a general rule, it may be assumed at 300 lbs.” [FN#29] Return Arab boats, at any but the pilgrim season, with little difficulty obtain permission to carry passengers, but not cargo. Two gentlemen, in whose pleasant society I once travelled from Cairo to Suez,-M. Charles Didier and the Abbe Hamilton,-paid the small sum of 1000 piastres, (say L10) for the whole of a moderate sized “Sambuk” returning to Jeddah.
[FN#30] Mother-of-pearl is taken to Jerusalem, and there made into chaplets, saints’ figures, and crucifixes for Christian pilgrims. At Meccah it is worked into rosaries for the Hajis. In Europe, cabinet and ornamental work cause a considerable demand for it. Some good pearls are procurable in the Red Sea. I have seen a drop of fair size and colour sold for seven dollars.
[FN#31] I was told at Meccah that the pilgrimage is attended by about 2000 natives of Java and the adjoining islands. [FN#32] The following popular puerilities will serve to show how fond barbarians are of explaining the natural by the supernatural. The Moslems of Egypt thus account for the absence of St. Swithin from their drought-stricken lands. When Jacob lost his Benjamin, he cursed the land of Misraim, declaring that it should know no rain; Joseph on the other hand blessed it, asserting that it should never want water. So the Sind Hindus believe that Hiranyakasipu, the demon-tyrant of Multan, finding Magha-Raja (the Cloud King) troublesome in his dominions, bound him with chains, and only released him upon his oath not to trouble the Unhappy Valley with his presence. I would suggest to those Egyptian travellers who believe that the fall of rain has been materially increased at Cairo of late, by plantations of trees, to turn over the volumes of their predecesors; they will find almost every one complaining of the discomforts of rain. In Sind it appears certain that during the last few years there has been at times almost a monsoon; this novel phenomenon the natives attribute to the presence of their conquerors, concerning whom it cannot be said that they have wooded the country to any extent.
[FN#33] This may appear a large mortality; but at Alexandria it is said the population is renewed every fourteen years. [FN#34] During these North winds the sandy bar is exposed, and allows men to cross, which may explain the passage of the Israelites, for those who do not believe the Legend to be a Myth. Similarly at Jeddah, the bars are covered during the South and bare during the North winds. [FN#35] This mixture, called in India Kichhri, has become common in Al-Hijaz as well as at Suez. “Al-Kajari” is the corruption, which denotes its foreign origin, and renders its name pronounceable to Arabs. [FN#36] Beans, an abomination to the ancient Egyptians, who were forbidden even to sow them, may now be called the common “kitchen” of the country. The Badawin, ho believe in nothing but flesh, milk, and dates, deride the bean-eaters, but they do not consider the food so disgusting as onions.
[FN#37] Here concludes Mr. Levick’s letter. For the following observations, I alone am answerable.
[FN#38] The government takes care to prevent bloodshed in the towns by disarming the country people, and by positively forbidding the carrying of weapons. Moreover, with a wise severity, it punishes all parties concerned in a quarrel, where blood is drawn, with a heavy fine and the bastinado de rigueur. Hence it is never safe, except as a European, to strike a man, and the Egyptians generally confine themselves to collaring and pushing each other against the walls. Even in the case of receiving gross abuse, you cannot notice it as you would elsewhere. You must take two witnesses,-respectable men,-and prove the offence before the Zabit, who alone can punish the offender. [FN#39] NOTE TO THIRD (1873) EDITION.-I revisited Suez in September, 1869, and found it altered for the better. The population had risen from 6,000 to 20,000. The tumble-down gateway was still there, but of the old houses-including the “George Inn,” whose front had been repaired-I recognised only four, and they looked mean by the side of the fine new buildings. In a few years ancient Suez will be no more. The bazars are not so full of filth and flies, now that pilgrims pass straight through and hardly even encamp. The sweet water Canal renders a Hammam possible; coffee is no longer hot saltish water, and presently irrigation will cover with fields and gardens the desert plain extending to the feet of Jabal Atakah. The noble works of the Canal Maritime, which should in justice be called the “Lesseps Canal,” shall soon transform Clysma into a modern and civilised city. The railway station, close to the hotel, the new British hospital, the noisy Greek casino, the Frankish shops, the puffing steamers, and the ringing of morning bells, gave me a novel impression. Even the climate has been changed by filling up the Timsch Lakes. Briefly, the hat is now at home in Suez.
NOTE TO FOURTH (1879) EDITION.-The forecast in the last paragraph has not been fulfilled. I again visited Suez in 1877-78; and found that it had been ruined by the Canal leaving it out of line. In fact, another Suez is growing up about the “New Docks,” while the old town is falling to pieces. For this and other Egyptian matters, see “The Gold Mines of Midian” (by Sir Richard Burton).

[p.186]CHAPTER X.

THE PILGRIM SHIP.

THE larger craft anchor some three or four miles from the Suez pier, so that it is necessary to drop down in a skiff or shore-boat.

Immense was the confusion at the eventful hour of our departure. Suppose us gathered upon the beach, on the morning of a fiery July day, carefully watching our hurriedly-packed goods and chattels, surrounded by a mob of idlers, who are not too proud to pick up waifs and strays; whilst pilgrims are rushing about apparently mad; and friends are weeping, acquaintances are vociferating adieux; boatmen are demanding fees, shopmen are claiming debts; women are shrieking and talking with inconceivable power, and children are crying,-in short, for an hour or so we stand in the thick of a human storm. To confound confusion, the boatmen have moored their skiff half a dozen yards away from the shore, lest the porters should be unable to make more than double their fare from the Hajis. Again the Turkish women make a hideous noise, as they are carried off struggling vainly in brawny arms; the children howl because their mothers howl; and the men scold and swear, because in such scenes none may be silent. The moment we had embarked, each individual found that he or she had missed something of vital importance,-a pipe, a child, a box, or a water-melon; and naturally all the servants were in the bazars, when

[p.187] they should have been in the boat. Briefly, despite the rage of the sailors, who feared being too late for a second trip, we stood for some time on the beach before putting off.

>From the shore we poled to the little pier, where sat the Bey in person to perform a final examination of our passports. Several were detected without the necessary document. Some were bastinadoed, others were peremptorily ordered back to Cairo, and the rest were allowed to proceed. At about 10 A.M. (6th July) we hoisted sail, and ran down the channel leading to the roadstead. On our way we had a specimen of what we might expect from our fellow-passengers, the Maghrabi.[FN#1] A boat crowded with these

[p.188] ruffians ran alongside of us, and, before we could organise a defence, about a score of them poured into our vessel. They carried things too with a high hand, laughed at us, and seemed quite ready to fight. My Indian boy, who happened to let slip the word “Muarras,” narrowly escaped a blow with a palm stick, which would have felled a camel. They outnumbered us, and they were armed; so that, on this occasion, we were obliged to put up with their insolence.

Our Pilgrim Ship, the Silk al-Zahab, or the “Golden Wire,” was a Sambuk, of about 400 ardebs (fifty tons), with narrow, wedge-like bows, a clean water-line, a sharp keel, and undecked, except upon the poop, which was high enough to act as a sail in a gale of wind. She carried two masts, raking imminently forwards, the main being considerably larger than the mizzen; the former was provided with a huge triangular latine, very deep in the tack, but the second sail was unaccountably wanting. She had no means of reefing, no compass, no log, no sounding lines, no spare ropes, nor even the suspicion of a chart: in her box-like cabin and ribbed hold there was something which savoured of close connection between her model and that of the Indian Toni,[FN#2] or “dug-out.”

[p.189] Such, probably, were the craft which carried old Sesostris across the Red Sea to Deir; such were the cruisers which once every three years left Ezion-Geber for Tarshish; such the transports of which 130 were required to convey AElius Gallus, with his 10,000 men. “Bakhshish” was the last as well as the first odious sound I heard in Egypt. The owner of the shore-boat would not allow us to climb the sides of our vessel before paying him his fare, and when we did so, he asked for Bakhshish. If Easterns would only imitate the example of Europeans,-I never yet saw an Englishman give Bakhshish to a soul,-the nuisance would soon be done away with. But on this occasion all my companions complied with the request, and at times it is unpleasant to be singular. The first look at the interior of our vessel showed a hopeless sight; Ali Murad, the greedy owner, had promised to take sixty passengers in the hold, but had stretched the number to ninety-seven. Piles of boxes and luggage in every shape and form filled the ship from stem to stern, and a torrent of Hajis were pouring over the sides like ants into the East-Indian sugar-basin. The poop, too, where we had taken our places, was covered with goods, and a number of pilgrims had established themselves there by might, not by right.

Presently, to our satisfaction, appeared Sa’ad the Demon, equipped as an able seaman, and looking most unlike the proprietor of two large boxes full of valuable merchandise. This energetic individual instantly prepared for action. With our little party to back him, he speedily cleared the poop of intruders and their stuff by the simple process of pushing or rather throwing them off it into the pit below. We then settled down as comfortably as we could; three Syrians, a married Turk with his wife and family, the Rais or captain of the vessel,

[p.190] with a portion of his crew, and our seven selves, composing a total of eighteen human beings, upon a space certainly not exceeding ten feet by eight. The cabin-a miserable box about the size of the poop, and three feet high-was stuffed, like the hold of a slave ship, with fifteen wretches, children and women, and the other ninety-seven were disposed upon the luggage or squatted on the bulwarks. Having some experience in such matters, and being favoured by fortune, I found a spare bed-frame slung to the ship’s side; and giving a dollar to its owner, a sailor-who flattered himself that, because it was his, he would sleep upon it,-I instantly appropriated it, preferring any hardship outside, to the condition of a packed herring inside, the place of torment.

Our Maghrabis were fine-looking animals from the deserts about Tripoli and Tunis; so savage that, but a few weeks ago, they had gazed at the cock-boat, and wondered how long it would be growing to the size of the ship that was to take them to Alexandria. Most of them were sturdy young fellows, round-headed, broad-shouldered, tall and large-limbed, with frowning eyes, and voices in a perpetual roar. Their manners were rude, and their faces full of fierce contempt or insolent familiarity. A few old men were there, with countenances expressive of intense ferocity; women as savage and full of fight as men; and handsome boys with shrill voices, and. hands always upon their daggers. The women were mere bundles of dirty white rags. The males were clad in “Burnus”-brown or striped woollen cloaks with hoods; they had neither turband nor tarbush, trusting to their thick curly hair or to the prodigious hardness of their scalps as a defence against the sun; and there was not a slipper nor a shoe amongst the party. Of course all were armed; but, fortunately for us, none had anything more formidable than a cut-and-thrust dagger about ten inches long. These Maghrabis travel in hordes under

[p.191] a leader who obtains the temporary title of “Maula,”-the master. He has generally performed a pilgrimage or two, and has collected a stock of superficial information which secures for him the respect of his followers, and the profound contempt of the heaven-made Ciceroni of Meccah and Al-Madinah. No people endure greater hardships when upon the pilgrimage than these Africans, who trust almost entirely to alms and to other such dispensations of Providence. It is not therefore to be wondered at that they rob whenever an opportunity presents itself. Several cases of theft occurred on board the “Golden Wire”; and as such plunderers seldom allow themselves to be baulked by insufficient defence, they are accused, perhaps deservedly, of having committed some revolting murders.

The first thing to be done after gaining standing-room was to fight for greater comfort; and never a Holyhead packet in the olden time showed a finer scene of pugnacity than did our pilgrim ship. A few Turks, ragged old men from Anatolia and Caramania, were mixed up with the Maghrabis, and the former began the war by contemptuously elbowing and scolding their wild neighbours. The Maghrabis, under their leader, “Maula Ali,” a burly savage, in whom I detected a ridiculous resemblance to the Rev. Charles Delafosse, an old and well-remembered schoolmaster, retorted so willingly that in a few minutes nothing was to be seen but a confused mass of humanity, each item indiscriminately punching and pulling, scratching and biting, butting and trampling, with cries of rage, and all the accompaniments of a proper fray, whatever was obnoxious to such operations. One of our party on the poop, a Syrian, somewhat incautiously leapt down to aid his countrymen by restoring order. He sank immediately below the surface of the living mass: and when we fished him out, his forehead was cut open, half his beard had disappeared, and a fine sharp set

[p.192] of teeth belonging to some Maghrabi had left their mark in the calf of his leg. The enemy showed no love of fair play, and never appeared contented unless five or six of them were setting upon a single man. This made matters worse. The weaker of course drew their daggers, and a few bad wounds were soon given and received. In a few minutes five men were completely disabled, and the victors began to dread the consequences of their victory.

Then the fighting stopped, and, as many could not find places, it was agreed that a deputation should wait upon Ali Murad, the owner, to inform him of the crowded state of the vessel. After keeping us in expectation at least three hours, he appeared in a row-boat, preserving a respectful distance, and informed us that any one who pleased might quit the ship and take back his fare. This left the case exactly as it was before; none would abandon his party to go on shore: so Ali Murad rowed off towards Suez, giving us a parting injunction to be good, and not fight ; to trust in Allah, and that Allah would make all things easy to us. His departure was the signal for a second fray, which in its accidents differed a little from the first. During the previous disturbance we kept our places with weapons in our hands. This time we were summoned by the Maghrabis to relieve their difficulties, by taking about half a dozen of them on the poop. Sa’ad the Demon at once rose with an oath, and threw amongst us a bundle of “Nabbut”-goodly ashen staves six feet long, thick as a man’s wrist, well greased, and tried in many a rough bout. He shouted to us “Defend yourselves if you don’t wish to be the meat of the Maghrabis!” and to the enemy-“Dogs and sons of dogs! now shall you see what the children of the Arab are.” “I am Omar of Daghistan!” “I am Abdullah the son of Joseph!” “I am Sa’ad the Demon!” we exclaimed, “renowning it” by this display of name and patronymic. To do our enemies justice, they showed no

[p.193] sign of flinching; they swarmed towards the poop like angry hornets, and encouraged each other with cries of “Allaho akbar!” But we had a vantage-ground about four feet above them, and their palm-sticks and short daggers could do nothing against our terrible quarterstaves. In vain the “Jacquerie,” tried to scale the poop and to overpower us by numbers; their courage only secured them more broken heads.

At first I began to lay on load with main morte, really fearing to kill some one with such a weapon; but it soon became evident that the Maghrabis’ heads and shoulders could bear and did require the utmost exertion of strength. Presently a thought struck me. A large earthen jar full of drinking water,[FN#3]-in its heavy frame of wood the weight might have been 100 lbs.,-stood upon the edge of the poop, and the thick of the fray took place beneath. Seeing an opportunity, I crept up to the jar, and, without attracting attention, rolled it down by a smart push with the shoulder upon the swarm of assailants. The fall caused a shriller shriek to rise above the ordinary din, for heads, limbs, and bodies were sorely bruised by the weight, scratched by the broken potsherds, and wetted by the sudden discharge. A fear that something worse might be coming made the Maghrabis slink off towards the end of the vessel. After a few minutes, we, sitting in grave silence, received a deputation of individuals in whity-brown Burnus, spotted and striped with what Mephistopheles calls a “curious juice.” They solicited peace, which we granted upon the condition that they would pledge themselves to keep it. Our heads, shoulders, and hands were penitentially kissed, and presently the fellows returned to bind up their hurts in dirty

[p.194] rags. We owed this victory entirely to our own exertions, and the meek Omar was by far the fiercest of the party. Our Rais, as we afterwards learned, was an old fool who could do nothing but call for the Fatihah,[FN#4] claim Bakhshish at every place where we moored for the night, and spend his leisure hours in the “Caccia del Mediterraneo.” Our crew consisted of half a dozen Egyptian lads, who, not being able to defend themselves, were periodically chastised by the Maghrabis, especially when any attempt was made to cook, to fetch water, or to prepare a pipe.[FN#5]

At length, about 3 P.M. on the 6th July, 1853, we shook out the sail, and, as it bellied in the favourable wind, we recited the Fatihah with upraised hands which we afterwards drew down our faces.[FN#6] As the “Golden Wire” started from her place, I could not help casting one wistful look upon the British flag floating over the Consulate. But the momentary regret was stifled by the heart-bounding which prospects of an adventure excite, and by the real pleasure of leaving Egypt. I had lived there a stranger in the land, and a hapless life it had been: in the streets every man’s face, as he looked upon the Persian, was the face of a foe. Whenever I came in contact with the native officials,[FN#7] insolence marked the

[p.195] event; and the circumstance of living within hail of my fellow-countrymen, and yet finding it impossible to enjoy their society, still throws a gloom over the memory of my first sojourn in Egypt.

The ships of the Red Sea-infamous region of rocks, reefs, and shoals-cruise along the coast by day, and at night lay-to in the first cove they find; they do not sail when it blows hard, and as in winter time the weather is often stormy and the light of day does not last long, the voyage is intolerably slow.[FN#8] At sunset we stayed our adventurous course; and, still within sight of Suez, comfortably anchored under the lee of Jabal Atakah, the “Mountain of Deliverance,[FN#9]” the butt-end of Jabal Joshi. We were now on classic waters. The Eastern shore was dotted with the little grove of palm-trees which clusters around the Uyun Musa, or Moses’ Wells; and on the west, between two towering ridges, lay the mouth of the valley (Badiyah, or Wady Tawarik, or Wady Musa) down which, according to Father Sicard,[FN#10] the Israelites fled to

[p.196] the Sea of Sedge.[FN#11] The view was by no means deficient in a sort of barbarous splendour. Verdure there was none, but under the violet and orange tints of the sky the chalky rocks became heaps of topazes, and the brown-burnt ridges masses of amethyst. The rising mists, here silvery white, there deeply rosy, and the bright blue of the waves,[FN#12] lining long strips of golden sand, compensated for the want of softness by a semblance of savage gorgeousness.

Next morning (7th July), before the cerulean hue had vanished from the hills, we set sail. It was not long before we came to a proper sense of our position. The box containing my store of provisions, and, worse still, my opium, was at the bottom of the hold, perfectly unapproachable; we had, therefore, the pleasure of breaking our fast on “Mare’s skin,”[FN#13] and a species of biscuit, hard as a stone and quite as tasteless. During the day, whilst insufferable splendour reigned above, the dashing of the waters below kept my nest in a state of perpetual drench. At night rose a cold, bright moon, with dews falling so thick and clammy that the skin felt as though it would never be dry again. It is, also, by no means pleasant

[p.197] to sleep upon a broken cot about four feet long by two broad, with the certainty that a false movement would throw you overboard, and a conviction that if you do fall from a Sambuk under sail, no mortal power can save you. And as under all circumstances in the East, dozing is one’s chief occupation, the reader will understand that the want of it left me in utter, utter idleness.

The gale was light that day, and the sunbeams were fire; our crew preferred crouching in the shade of the sail to taking advantage of what wind there was. In spite of our impatience we made but little way: near evening time we anchored on a tongue of sand, about two miles distant from the well-known and picturesque heights called by the Arabs Hammam Faraun,[FN#14] which-

“like giants stand
To sentinel enchanted land.”

The strip of coarse quartz and sandstone gravel is obviously the offspring of some mountain torrent; it stretches southwards, being probably disposed in that direction by the currents of the sea as they receive the deposit. The distance of the “Hammam Bluffs” prevented my visiting them, which circumstance I regretted the less as they have been described by pens equal to the task.

That evening we enjoyed ourselves upon clean sand, whose surface, drifted by the wind into small yellow waves, was easily converted by a little digging and heaping up, into the coolest and most comfortable of couches. Indeed, after the canescent heat of the day, and the tossing of our ill-conditioned vessel, we should have been contented with lodgings far less luxurious. Fuel was readily collected, and while some bathed, others

[p.198] erected a hearth-three large stones and a hole open to leeward-lit the fire and put the pot on to boil. Shaykh Nur had fortunately a line; we had been successful in fishing; a little rice also had been bought; with this boiled, and rock-cod broiled upon the charcoal, we made a dinner that caused every one to forget the sore grievance of “Mare’s skin” and stone-hard biscuit. A few Maghrabis had ventured on shore, the Rais having terrified the others by threatening them with those “bogies,” the Badawin-and they offered us Kuskusu[FN#15] in exchange for fish. As evening fell, we determined, before sleeping, to work upon their “morale” as effectually as we had attacked their physique. Shaykh Hamid stood up and indulged them with the Azan, or call to prayers, pronounced after the fashion of Al-Madinah.[FN#16] They performed their devotions in lines ranged behind us as a token of respect, and when worship was over we were questioned about the Holy City till we grew tired of answering. Again our heads and shoulders, our hands and knees,[FN#17] were kissed, but this time in devotion, not in penitence. My companions could scarcely understand half the rugged words which the Maghrabis used,[FN#18] as their dialect was fresh from the

[p.199] distant Desert. Still we succeeded in making ourselves intelligible to them, vaunting our dignity as the Sons of the Prophet, and the sanctity of our land which should protect its children from every description of fraud and violence. We benignantly promised to be their guides at Al-Madinah, and the boy Mohammed would conduct their devotions at Meccah, always provided that they repented their past misdeeds, avoided any repetition of the same, and promised to perform the duties of good and faithful pilgrims. Presently the Rais joined our party, and the usual story-telling began. The old man knew the name of each hill, and had a legend for every nook and corner in sight. He dwelt at length upon the life of Abu Zulaymah, the patron saint of these seas, whose little tomb stands at no great distance from our bivouac place, and told us how he sits watching over the safety of pious mariners in a cave among the neighbouring rocks, and sipping his coffee, which is brought in a raw state from Meccah by green birds, and prepared in the usual way by the hands of ministering angels. He showed us the spot where the terrible king of Egypt, when close upon the heels of the children of Israel, was whelmed in the “hell of waters,[FN#19]” and he warned us that next day our way would be through breakers, and reefs, and dangerous currents, over whose troubled depths, since that awful day, the Ifrit of the storm has never ceased to flap his sable wing. The wincing of the hearers proved that the shaft of the old man’s words was sharp; but as night was advancing, we unrolled our rugs, and fell asleep upon the sand, all of us happy, for we had fed and drunk, and

[p.200]-the homo sapiens is a hopeful animal-we made sure that on the morrow the Ifrit would be merciful, and allow us to eat fresh dates at the harbour of Tur.

Fair visions of dates doomed to the Limbo of things which should have been! The grey dawn (8th July) looked down upon us in difficulties. The water is deep near this coast; we had anchored at high tide close to the shore, and the ebb had left us high and dry. When this fact became apparent, a storm was upon the point of breaking. The Maghrabis, but for our interference, would have bastinadoed the Rais, who, they said with some reason, ought to have known better. When this phase of feeling passed away, they applied themselves to physical efforts. All except the women and children, who stood on the shore encouraging their relatives with shrill quaverings, threw themselves into the water; some pushed, others applied their shoulders to the vessel’s side, and all used their lungs with might and main. But the “Golden Wire” was firmly fixed, and their exertions were too irregular. Muscular force failed, upon which they changed their tactics. At the suggestion of their “Maula,” they prepared to burn incense in honour of the Shaykh Abu Zulaymah. The material not being forthcoming, they used coffee, which perhaps accounts for the shortcomings of that holy man. After this the Rais remembered that their previous exertions had not begun under the auspices of the Fatihah. Therefore they prayed, and then reapplied themselves to work. Still they failed. Finally, each man called aloud upon his own particular saint or spiritual guide, and rushed forward as if he alone sufficed for the exploit. Shaykh Hamid unwisely quoted the name, and begged the assistance, of his great ancestor, the “Clarified-Butter-Seller”; the obdurate “Golden Wire” was not moved, and Hamid retired in momentary confusion.

It was now about nine A.M., and the water had risen

[p.201] considerably. My morning had been passed in watching the influx of the tide, and the grotesque efforts of the Maghrabis. When the vessel showed some symptoms of unsteadiness, I arose, walked gravely up to her, ranged the pilgrims around her with their shoulders to the sides, and told them to heave with might when they heard me invoke the revered name of my patron saint. I raised my hands and voice; “Ya Piran Pir! Ya Abd al-Kadir Jilani[FM#20]” was the signal. Each Maghrabi worked like an Atlas, the “Golden Wire” canted half over, and, sliding heavily through the sand, once more floated off into deep water. This was generally voted a minor miracle, and the Effendi was respected-for a day or two.

The wind was fair, but we had all to re-embark, an operation which went on till noon. After starting I remarked the natural cause which gives this Birkat Faraun-“Pharaoh’s Bay,”-a bad name. Here the gulf narrows; and the winds, which rush down the clefts and valleys of the lofty mountains on the Eastern and Western shores, meeting tides and counter-currents, cause a perpetual commotion. That day the foam-tipped waves repeatedly washed over my cot, by no means diminishing its discomforts. In the evening, or rather late in the afternoon, we anchored, to our infinite disgust, under a ridge of rocks, behind which lies the plain of Tur. The Rais deterred all from going on shore by terrible stories about the Badawin that haunt the place, besides which there was no sand to sleep upon. We remained, therefore, on board that night; and, making sail early the next morning, we threaded through reefs and sand-banks about noon into the intricate and dangerous entrance of Tur.

Nothing can be meaner than the present appearance of the old Phoenician colony, although its position as a

[p.202] harbour, and its plentiful supply of fruit and fresh water, make it one of the most frequented places on the coast. The only remains of any antiquity-except the wells-are the fortifications which the Portuguese erected to keep out the Badawin. The little town lies upon a plain that stretches with a gradual rise from the sea to the lofty mountain-axis of the Sinaitic group. The country around reminded me strongly of maritime Sind; a flat of clay and sand, clothed with sparse turfs of Salsolae, and bearing strong signs of a (geologically speaking) recent origin. The town is inhabited principally by Greek and other Christians,[FN#21] who live by selling water and provisions to ships. A fleecy cloud hung lightly over the majestic head of Jabal Tur, about eventide, and the outlines of the giant hills stood “picked out” from the clear blue sky. Our Rais, weather-wise man, warned us that these were indications of a gale, and that, in case of rough weather, he did not intend to leave Tur. I was not sorry to hear this. We had passed a pleasant day, drinking sweet water, and eating the dates, grapes, and pomegranates, which the people of the place carry down to the beach for the benefit of hungry pilgrims. Besides which, there were various sights to see, and with these we might profitably spend the morrow. We therefore pitched the tent upon the sand, and busied ourselves with

[p.203] extricating a box of provisions: the labour was rendered lighter by the absence of the Maghrabis, some of whom were wandering about the beach, whilst others had gone off to fill their bags with fresh water. We found their surliness insufferable; even when we were passing from poop to forecastle, landing or boarding, they grumbled forth their dissatisfaction.

Our Rais was not mistaken in his prediction. The fleecy cloud on Tur’s tops had given true warning. When morning (9th July) broke, we found the wind strong, and the sea white with foam. Most of us thought lightly of these terrors, but our valorous captain swore that he dared not for his life cross in such a storm the mouth of ill-omened Akabah. We breakfasted, therefore, and afterwards set out to visit Moses’ Hot Baths, mounted on wretched donkeys with pack-saddles, ignorant of stirrups, and without tails, whilst we ourselves suffered generally from boils, which, as usual upon a journey, make their appearance in localities the most inconvenient. Our road lay northward across the plain towards a long narrow strip of date ground, surrounded by a ruinous mud wall. After a ride of two or three miles, we entered the gardens, and came suddenly upon the Hammam. It is a prim little Cockney bungalow, built by Abbas Pasha of Egypt for his own accommodation; glaringly whitewashed, and garnished with diwans and calico curtains of a gorgeous hue. The guardian had been warned of our visit, and was present to supply us with bathing-cloths and other necessaries. One by one we entered the cistern, which is now in an inner room. The water is about four feet deep, warm in winter, cool in summer, of a saltish-bitter taste, but celebrated for its invigorating qualities, when applied externally. On one side of the calcareous rock, near the ground, is the hole opened for the spring by Moses’ rod, which must have been like the “mast of some tall

[p.204] Ammiral[FN#22]”; and near it are the marks of Moses’ nails-deep indentations in the stone, which were probably left there by some extinct Saurian. Our Cicerone informed us that formerly the finger-marks existed, and that they were long enough for a man to lie in. The same functionary attributed the sanitary properties of the spring to the blessings of the Prophet, and, when asked why Moses had not made sweet water to flow, informed us that the Great Lawgiver had intended the spring for bathing in, not for drinking. We sat with him, eating the small yellow dates of Tur, which are delicious, melting like honey in the mouth, and leaving a surpassing arriere gout. After finishing sundry pipes and cups of coffee, we gave the bath-man a few piastres, and, mounting our donkeys, started eastward for the Bir Musa,[FN#23] which we reached in half an hour. It is a fine old work, built round and domed over with roughly squared stones, very like what may be seen in some rustic parts of Southern England. The sides of the pit were so rugged that a man could climb down them, and at the bottom was a pool of water, sweet and abundant. We had intended to stay there, and to dine al fresco, but the hated faces of our companions, the Maghrabis, meeting us at the entrance, nipped that project in the bud. Accordingly we retired from the burning

[p.205] sun to a neighbouring coffee-house-a shed of palm leaves kept by a Tur man, and there, seated on mats, we demolished the contents of our basket. Whilst we were eating, some Badawin came in and joined us, when invited so to do. They were poorly dressed, and all armed with knives and cheap sabres, hanging to leathern bandoleers: in language and demeanour they showed few remains of their old ferocity. As late as Mohammed Ali’s time these people were noted wreckers, and formerly they were dreaded pirates: now they are lions with their fangs and claws drawn.

In the even, when we returned to our tent, a Syrian, one of our party on the poop, came out to meet us with the information that several large vessels had arrived from Suez, comparatively speaking, empty, and that the captain of one of them would land us at Yambu’ for three dollars a head. The proposal was tempting. But presently it became apparent that my companions were unwilling to shift their precious boxes, and moreover, that I should have to pay for those who could not or would not pay for themselves,-that is to say, for the whole party. As such a display of wealth would have been unadvisable, I dismissed the idea with a sigh. Amongst the large vessels was one freighted with Persian pilgrims, a most disagreeable race of men on a journey or a voyage. They would not land at first, because they feared the Badawin. They would not take water from the town people, because some of these were Christians. Moreover, they insisted upon making their own call to prayer, which heretical proceeding-it admits five extra words-our party, orthodox Moslems, would rather have died than have permitted. When their crier, a small wizen-faced man, began the Azan with a voice

“in quel tenore
Che fa il cappon quando talvolta canta,”

we received it with a shout of derision, and some, hastily

[p.206] snatching up their weapons, offered him an opportunity of martyrdom. The Maghrabis, too, hearing that the Persians were Rafaz (heretics) crowded fiercely round to do a little Jihad, or Fighting for the Faith. The long-bearded men took the alarm. They were twice the number of our small party, and therefore they had been in the habit of strutting about with nonchalance, and looking at us fixedly, and otherwise demeaning themselves in an indecorous way. But when it came to the point, they showed the white feather. These Persians accompanied us to the end of our voyage. As they approached the Holy Land, visions of the “Nabbut” caused a change for the better in their manners. At Mahar they meekly endured a variety of insults, and at Yambu’ they cringed to us like dogs.

[FN#1] Men of the Maghrab, or Western Africa; the vulgar plural is Maghrabin, generally written “Mogrebyn.” May not the singular form of this word have given rise to the Latin “Maurus,” by elision of the Ghayn, to Italians an unpronounceable consonant? From Maurus comes the Portuguese “Moro,” and our “Moor.” When Vasco de Gama reached Calicut, he found there a tribe of Arab colonists, who in religion and in language were the same as the people of Northern Africa,-for this reason he called them “Moors.” This was explained long ago by Vincent (Periplus, lib. 3), and lately by Prichard (Natural History of Man). I repeat it because it has been my fate to hear, at a meeting of a learned society in London, a gentleman declare, that in Eastern Africa he found a people calling themselves Moors. Maghrabin-Westerns,-then would be opposed to Sharkiyin, Easterns, the origin of our “Saracen.” From Gibbon downwards many have discussed the history of this word; but few expected in the nineteenth century to see a writer on Eastern subjects assert, with Sir John Mandeville, that these people “properly, ben clept Sarrazins of Sarra.” The learned M. Jomard, who never takes such original views of things, asks a curious question:-“Mais comment un son aussi distinct que le Chine [Arabic text] aurait-il pu se confondre avec le Syn [Arabic text] et, pour un mot aussi connu que charq; comment aurait-on pu se tromper a l’omission des points?” Simply because the word Saracens came to us through the Greeks (Ptolemy uses it), who have no such sound as sh in their language, and through the Italian which, hostile to the harsh sibilants of Oriental dialects, generally melts sh down into s. So the historical word Hashshashiyun-hemp-drinker,-civilised by the Italians into “assassino,” became, as all know, an expression of European use. But if any one adverse to “etymological fancies” objects to my deriving Maurus from “Maghrab,” let him remember Johnson’s successfully tracing the course of the metamorphosis of “dies” into “jour.” An even more peculiar change we may discover in the word “elephant.” “Pilu” in Sanscrit, became “pil” in old Persian, which ignores short final vowels; “fil,” and, with the article, “Al-fil,” in Arabic, which supplies the place of p (an unknown letter to it), by f; and elephas in Greek, which is fond of adding “as” to Arabic words, as in the cases of Aretas (Haris) and Obodas (Obayd). “A name,” says Humboldt, “often becoming a historical monument, and the etymological analysis of language, however it may be divided, is attended by valuable results.” [FN#2] The Toni or Indian canoe is the hollowed-out trunk of a tree,-near Bombay generally a mango. It must have been the first step in advance from that simplest form of naval architecture, the “Catamaran” of Madras and Aden.
[FN#3] In these vessels each traveller, unless a previous bargain be made, is expected to provide his own water and firewood. The best way, however, is, when the old wooden box called a tank is sound, to pay the captain for providing water, and to keep the key. [FN#4] The “opener”-the first chapter of the Koran, which Moslems recite as Christians do the Lord’s Prayer; it is also used on occasions of danger, the beginnings of journeys, to bind contracts, &c. [FN#5] These Maghrabis, like the Somalis, the Wahhabis of the desert, and certain other barbarous races, unaccustomed to tobacco, appeared to hate the smell of a pipe.
[FN#6] The hands are raised in order to catch the blessing that is supposed to descend from heaven upon the devotee; and the meaning of drawing the palms down the face is symbolically to transfer the benediction to every part of the body.
[FN#7] As is the case under all despotic governments, nothing can be more intentionally offensive than the official manners of a superior to his inferior in Egypt. The Indians charge their European fellow-subjects with insolence of demeanour and coarseness of language. As far as my experience goes, our roughness and brusquerie are mere politeness compared with what passes between Easterns. At the same time it must be owned that I have seen the worst of it. [FN#8] It was far safer and more expeditious in Al-Adrisi’s day (A.D. 1154), when the captain used to sit on the poop “furnished with numerous and useful instruments”; when he “sounded the shallows, and by his knowledge of the depths could direct the helmsman where to steer.” [FN#9] In the East it is usual, when commencing a voyage or a journey, to make a short day’s work, in order to be at a convenient distance for returning, in case of any essential article having been forgotten. [FN#10] A Jesuit missionary who visited the place in A.D. 1720, and described it in a well-known volume. As every eminent author, however, monopolises a “crossing,” and since the head of the Suez creek, as is shown by its old watermark, has materially changed within no very distant period, it is no wonder that the question is still sub judice, and that there it will remain most probably till the end of time. The Christians have two equally favourite lines: the Moslems patronise one so impossible, that it has had attractions enough to fix their choice. It extends from Zafaran Point to Hammam Bluffs, ten miles of deep water. [FN#11] The Hebrew name of this part of the Red Sea. In a communication lately made to the Royal Geographical Society, I gave my reasons for believing that the Greeks borrowed their Erythraean Sea from the Arabic “Sea of Himyar.”
[FN#12] Most travellers remark that they have never seen a brighter blue than that of the Red Sea. It was the observation of an early age that “the Rede Sea is not more rede than any other sea, but in some place thereof is the gravelle rede, and therefore men clepen it the Rede Sea.”
[FN#13] Jild al-Faras (or Kamar al-Din), a composition of apricot paste, dried, spread out, and folded into sheets, exactly resembling the article after which it is named. Turks and Arabs use it when travelling; they dissolve it in water, and eat it as a relish with bread or biscuit.
[FN#14] “Pharaoh’s hot baths,” which in our maps are called “Hummum Bluffs.” They are truly “enchanted land” in Moslem fable: a volume would scarcely contain the legends that have been told and written about them. (See Note 1, p. 10, ante.)
[FN#15] One of the numerous species of what the Italians generally call “Pasta.” The material is wheaten or barley flour rolled into small round grains. In Barbary it is cooked by steaming, and served up with hard boiled eggs and mutton, sprinkled with red pepper. These Badawi Maghrabis merely boiled it.
[FN#16] The Azan is differently pronounced, though similarly worded by every orthodox nation in Al-Islam.
[FN#17] The usual way of kissing the knee is to place the finger tips upon it, and then to raise them to the mouth. It is an action denoting great humility, and the condescending superior who is not an immediate master returns the compliment in the same way. [FN#18] The Maghrabi dialect is known to be the harshest and most guttural form of Arabic. It owes this unenviable superiority to its frequency of “Sukun,” or the quiescence of one or more consonants;-“K’lab,” for instance, for “Kilab,” and “‘Msik” for “Amsik.” Thus it is that vowels, the soft and liquid part of language, disappear, leaving in their place a barbarous sounding mass of consonants.
[FN#19] Burckhardt mentions the Arab legend that the spirits of the drowned Egyptians may be seen moving at the bottom of the sea, and Finati adds that they are ever busy recruiting their numbers with shipwrecked mariners.
[FN#20] I thus called upon a celebrated Sufi or mystic, whom many East-Indian Moslems reverence as the Arabs do their Prophet. In Appendix I the curious reader will find Abd al-Kadir again mentioned. [FN#21] Those people are descendants of Syrians and Greeks that fled from Candia, Scios, the Ionian Islands, and Palestine to escape the persecutions of the Turks. They now wear the Arab dress, and speak the language of the country, but they are easily to be distinguished from the Moslems by the expression of their countenances and sometimes by their blue eyes and light hair. There are also a few families calling themselves Jabaliyah, or mountaineers. Originally they were 100 households, sent by Justinian to serve the convent of St. Catherine, and to defend it against the Berbers. Sultan Kansuh al-Ghori, called by European writers Campson Gaury, the Mamluk King of Egypt, in A.D. 1501, admitted these people into the Moslem community on condition of their continuing the menial service they had afforded to the monks. [FN#22] Adam’s forehead (says the Tarikh Tabari) brushed the skies, but this height being inconvenient, the Lord abridged it to 100 cubits. The Moslems firmly believe in Anakim. Josephus informs us that Moses was of “divine form and great tallness”; the Arabs specify his stature,-300 cubits. They have, moreover, found his grave in some parts of the country S.E, of the Dead Sea, and make cups of a kind of bitumen called “Moses’ Stones.” This people nescit ignorare-it will know everything. [FN#23] “Moses’ Well.” I have no argument except the untrustworthy traditions of the Badawin, either for or against this having been the identical well near which Moses sat when he fled from the face of Pharaoh to the land of Midian. One thing is certain, namely, that in this part of Arabia, as also at Aden, the wells are of a very ancient date.

[p.207]CHAPTER XI.

TO YAMBU’.

ON the 11th July, 1853, about dawn, we left Tur, after a pleasant halt, with the unpleasant certainty of not touching ground for thirty-six hours. I passed the time in steadfast contemplation of the web of my umbrella, and in making the following meteorological remarks.

Morning.-The air is mild and balmy as that of an Italian spring; thick mists roll down the valleys along the sea, and a haze like mother-o’-pearl crowns the headlands. The distant rocks show Titanic walls, lofty donjons, huge projecting bastions, and moats full of deep shade. At their base runs a sea of amethyst, and as earth receives the first touches of light, their summits, almost transparent, mingle with the jasper tints of the sky. Nothing can be more delicious than this hour. But as

“les plus belles choses
Ont le pire destin,”

so lovely Morning soon fades. The sun bursts up from behind the main, a fierce enemy, a foe that will force every one to crouch before him. He dyes the sky orange, and the sea “incarnadine,” where its violet surface is stained by his rays, and he mercilessly puts to flight the mists and haze and the little agate-coloured masses of cloud that were before floating in the firmament. The atmosphere is so clear that now and then a planet is visible. For the two

[p.208] hours following sunrise the rays are endurable; after that they become a fiery ordeal. The morning beams oppress you with a feeling of sickness; their steady glow, reflected by the glaring waters, blinds your eyes, blisters your skin, and parches your mouth: you now become a monomaniac; you do nothing but count the slow hours that must “minute by” before you can be relieved.[FN#1]

Midday.-The wind, reverberated by the glowing hills is like the blast of a lime-kiln. All colour melts away with the canescence from above. The sky is a dead milk-white, and the mirror-like sea so reflects the tint that you can scarcely distinguish the line of the horizon. After noon the wind sleeps upon the reeking shore; there is a deep stillness; the only sound heard is the melancholy flapping of the sail. Men are not so much sleeping as half-senseless; they feel as if a few more degrees of heat would be death.

Sunset.-The enemy sinks behind the deep cerulean sea, under a canopy of gigantic rainbow which covers half the face of heaven. Nearest to the horizon is an arch of tawny orange; above it another of the brightest gold, and based upon these a semi-circle of tender sea-green blends with a score of delicate gradations into the sapphire sky. Across the rainbow the sun throws its rays in the form of giant wheel-spokes tinged with a beautiful pink. The Eastern sky is mantled with a purple flush that picks out the forms of the hazy Desert and the sharp-cut Hills. Language is a thing too cold, too poor, to express the harmony and the majesty of this hour, which is as evanescent, however, as it is lovely. Night falls rapidly, when suddenly the appearance of the Zodiacal Light[FN#2] restores

[p.209] the scene to what it was. Again the grey hills and the grim rocks become rosy or golden, the palms green, the sands saffron, and the sea wears a lilac surface of dimpling waves. But after a quarter of an hour all fades once more; the cliffs are naked and ghastly under the moon, whose light falling upon this wilderness of white crags and pinnacles is most strange-most mysterious.

Night.-The horizon is all darkness, and the sea reflects the white visage of the night-sun as in a mirror of steel. In the air we see giant columns of pallid light, distinct, based upon the indigo-coloured waves, and standing with their heads lost in endless space. The stars glitter with exceeding brilliance.[FN#3] At this hour are

“-river and hill and wood,
With all the numberless goings on of life, Inaudible as dreams”;

while the planets look down upon you with the faces of smiling friends. You feel the “sweet influence of the Pleiades.” You are bound by the “bond of Orion.” Hesperus bears with him a thousand things. In communion with them your hours pass swiftly by, till the heavy dews warn you to cover up your face and sleep. And with one look at a certain little Star in the north, under which lies all that makes life worth living through-surely it is a venial superstition to sleep with your eyes towards that Kiblah!-you fall into oblivion.

Those thirty-six hours were a trial even to the hard-headed Badawin. The Syrian and his two friends fell ill. Omar Effendi, it is true, had the courage to say his

[p.210] sunset prayers, but the exertion so altered him that he looked another man. Salih Shakkar in despair ate dates till threatened with a dysentery. Sa’ad the Demon had rigged out for himself a cot three feet long, which, arched over with bent bamboo, and covered with cloaks, he had slung on to the larboard side; but the loud grumbling which proceeded from his nest proved that his precaution had not been a cure. Even the boy Mohammed forgot to chatter, to scold, to smoke, and to make himself generally disagreeable. The Turkish baby appeared to be dying, and was not strong enough to wail. How the poor mother stood her trials so well, made every one wonder. The most pleasant trait in my companions’ characters was the consideration they showed to her, and their attention to her children. Whenever one of the party drew forth a little delicacy-a few dates or a pomegranate-they gave away a share of it to the children, and most of them took their turns to nurse the baby. This was genuine politeness-kindness of heart. It would be well for those who sweepingly accuse Easterns of want of gallantry, to contrast this trait of character with the savage scenes of civilisation that take place among the “Overlands” at Cairo and Suez.[FN#4] No foreigner could be present for the first time without bearing away the lasting impression that the sons of Great Britain are model barbarians.[FN#5] On board the “Golden Wire” Salih Shakkar was the sole base exception to the general geniality of my companions.

As the sun starts towards the West, falling harmlessly upon our heads, we arise, still faint and dizzy, calling for water-which before we had not the strength

[p.211] to drink-and pipes, and coffee, and similar luxuries. Our primitive kitchen is a square wooden box, lined with clay, and filled with sand, upon which three or four large stones are placed to form a hearth. Preparations are now made for the evening meal, which is of the simplest description. A little rice, a few dates, or an onion, will keep a man alive in our position; a single “good dinner” would justify long odds against his seeing the next evening. Moreover, it is impossible in such cases to have an appetite-fortunately, as our store of provisions is a scanty one. Arabs consider it desirable on a journey to eat hot food once in the twenty-four hours; so we determine to cook, despite all difficulties. The operation, however, is by no means satisfactory; twenty expectants surround the single fire, and there is sure to be a quarrel amongst them every five minutes.

As the breeze, cooled by the dew, begins to fan our parched faces, we recover our spirits amazingly. Songs are sung; tales are told; and rough jests are bandied about till, not unfrequently, Oriental sensitiveness is sorely tried. Or, if we see the prospect of storm or calm, we draw forth, and piously peruse, a “Hizb al-Bahr.” As this prayer is supposed to make all safe upon the ocean wave, I will not selfishly withhold it from the British reader. To draw forth all its virtues, the reciter should receive it from the hands of his Murshid or spiritual guide, and study it during the Chillah, or forty days of fast, of which, I venture to observe, few Sons of Bull are capable.

“O Allah, O Exalted, O Almighty, O All-pitiful, O All-powerful, Thou art my God, and sufficeth to me the knowledge of it! Glorified be the Lord my Lord, and glorified be the Faith my Faith! Thou givest Victory to whom Thou pleasest, and Thou art the Glorious, the Merciful! We pray Thee for Safety in our goings forth and our standings still, in our Words and our Designs, in our

[p.212] Dangers of Temptation and Doubt, and the secret Designs of our Hearts. Subject unto us this Sea, even as Thou didst subject the Deep to Musa” (Moses), “and as Thou didst subject the Fire to Ibrahim[FN#6]” (Abraham), “and as Thou didst subject the Iron to Daud[FN#7]” (David), “and as Thou didst subject the Wind and the Devils and Jinnis and Mankind to Sulayman[FN#8]” (Solomon), “and as Thou didst subject the Moon and Al-Burak to Mohammed, upon whom be Allah’s Mercy and His Blessing! And subject unto us all the Seas in Earth and Heaven, in Thy visible and in Thine invisible Worlds, the Sea of this Life, and the Sea of Futurity. O Thou who reignest over everything, and unto whom all Things return, Khyas! Khyas! Khyas[FN#9]!”

And lastly, we lie down upon our cribs, wrapped up in thickly padded cotton coverlets; we forget the troubles of the past day, and we care nought for the discomforts of that to come.

Late on the evening of the 11th July we passed in sight of the narrow mouth of Al-‘Akabah, whose famosi rupes are a terror to the voyagers of these latitudes. Like the Gulf of Cambay, here a tempest is said to be always brewing, and men raise their hands to pray as they cross it. We had no storm that day from without, but a fierce one was about to burst within our ship. The essence of Oriental discipline is personal respect based upon fear. Therefore it often happens that the commanding officer,

[p.213] if a mild old gentleman, is the last person whose command is obeyed,-his only privilege being that of sitting apart from his inferiors. And such was the case with our Rais. On the present occasion, irritated by the refusal of the Maghrabis to stand out of the steerman’s way, and excited by the prospect of losing sight of shore for a whole day, he threatened one of the fellows with his slipper. It required all our exertions, even to a display of the dreaded quarter-staves, to calm the consequent excitement. After passing Al-‘Akabah, we saw nothing but sea and sky, and we spent a weary night and day tossing upon the waters, our only exercise; every face brightened as, about sunset on the 12th July, we suddenly glided into the mooring-place.

Marsa (anchorage) Damghah,[FN#10] or rather Dumayghah, is scarcely visible from the sea. An islet of limestone rock defends the entrance, leaving a narrow passage to the south. It is not before he enters that the mariner discovers the extent and the depth of this creek, which indents far into the land, and offers 15 to 20 feet of fine clear anchorage which no swell can reach. Inside it looks more like a lake, and at night its colour is gloriously blue as Geneva itself. I could not help calling to mind, after dinner, the old school lines

“Est in secessu longo locus; insula portum Efficit objectu laterum; quibus omnis ab alto Frangitur, inque sinus scindit sese unda reductos.”

Nothing was wanted but the “atrum nemus.” Where however, shall we find such luxuries in arid Arabia?

The Rais, as usual, attempted to deter us from landing, by romancing about the “Bedoynes and Ascopards,” representing them to be “folke ryghte felonouse and foule and of cursed kynde.” To which we replied by shouldering our Nabbuts and scrambling into the cock-boat

[p.214] On shore we saw a few wretched-looking beings, Juhaynah[FN#11] or Hutaym, seated upon heaps of dried wood, which they sold to travellers; and three boat-loads of Syrian pilgrims who had preceded us. We often envied them their small swift craft, with their double latine sails disposed in “hare-ears” which, about eventide in the far distance, looked like a white gull alighting upon the purple wave; and they justified our jealousy by arriving at Yambu’ two days before us. The pilgrims had bivouacked upon the beach, and were engaged in drinking their after-dinner coffee. They received us with all the rights of hospitality, as natives of Al-Madinah should everywhere be received; we sat an hour with them, ate a little fruit, satisfied our thirst, smoked their pipes, and when taking leave blessed them. Then returning to the vessel we fed, and lost no time in falling asleep.

The dawn of the next day saw our sail flapping in the idle air. And it was not without difficulty that in the course of the forenoon we entered Wijh Harbour, distant from Dumayghah but very few miles. Al-Wijh is also a natural anchorage, in no way differing from that where we passed the night, except in being smaller and shallower and less secure. From this place to Cairo the road is safe. The town is a collection of round huts meanly built of round stones, and clustering upon a piece of elevated rock on the northern side of the creek. It is

[p.215] distant about six miles from the inland fort of the same name, which receives the Egyptian caravan, and which thrives, like its port, by selling water and provisions to pilgrims. The little bazar, almost washed by every high tide, provided us with mutton, rice, baked bread, and the other necessaries of life at a moderate rate. Luxuries also were to be found: a druggist sold me an ounce of opium at a Chinese price.

With reeling limbs we landed at Al-Wijh,[FN#12] and finding a large coffee-house above and near the beach, we installed ourselves there. But the Persians who preceded us had occupied all the shady places outside, and were correcting their teeth with their case knives; we were forced to content ourselves with the interior. It was a building of artless construction, consisting of little but a roof supported by wooden posts, roughly hewn from date trees: round the tamped earthen floor ran a raised bench of unbaked brick, forming a diwan for mats and sleeping-rugs. In the centre a huge square Mastabah, or platform, answered a similar purpose. Here and there appeared attempts at long and side walls, but these superfluities had been allowed to admit daylight through large gaps. In one corner stood the apparatus of the “Kahwahji,” an altar-like elevation, also of earthen-work, containing a hole for a charcoal fire, upon which were three huge coffee-pots dirtily tinned. Near it were ranged the Shishas, or Egyptian hookahs, old, exceedingly unclean, and worn by age and hard work. A wooden framework, pierced with circular apertures, supported a number of porous earthenware gullehs (gargoulettes, or monkey jars) full of cold, sweet water; the charge for each was, as usual in Al-Hijaz, five paras. Such was the furniture of the cafe, and the only relief to the barrenness of the view was a fine mellowing atmosphere composed of smoke, steam,

[p.216] flies, and gnats in about equal proportions. I have been diffuse in my description of the coffee-house, as it was a type of its class: from Alexandria to Aden the traveller will everywhere meet with buildings of the same kind.

Our happiness in this Paradise-for such it was to us after the “Golden Wire”-was nearly sacrificed by Sa’ad the Demon, whose abominable temper led him at once into a quarrel with the master of the cafe. And the latter, an ill-looking, squint-eyed, low-browed, broad-shouldered fellow, showed himself nowise unwilling to meet the Demon half way. The two worthies, after a brief bandying of bad words, seized each other’s throats leisurely, so as to give the spectators time and encouragement to interfere. But when friends and acquaintances were hanging on to both heroes so firmly that they could not move hand or arm, their wrath, as usual, rose, till it was terrible to see. The little village resounded with the war, and many a sturdy knave rushed in, sword or cudgel in hand, so as not to lose the sport. During the heat of the fray, a pistol which was in Omar Effendi’s hand went off-accidentally of course-and the ball passed so close to the tins containing the black and muddy Mocha, that it drew the attention of all parties. As if by magic, the storm was lulled. A friend recognised Sa’ad the Demon, and swore that he was no black slave, but a soldier at Al-Madinah-“no waiter, but a Knight Templar.” This caused him to be looked upon as rather a distinguished man, and he proved his right to the honour by insisting that his late enemy should feed with him, and when the other decorously hung back, by dragging him to dinner with loud cries.

My alias that day was severely tried. Besides the Persian pilgrims, a number of nondescripts who came in the same vessel were hanging about the coffee-house; lying down, smoking, drinking water, bathing and picking their teeth with their daggers. One inquisitive man

[p.217] was always at my side. He called himself a Pathan (Afghan settled in India); he could speak five or six languages, he knew a number of people everywhere, and he had travelled far and wide over Central Asia. These fellows are always good detectors of an incognito. I avoided answering his question about my native place, and after telling him that I had no longer name or nation, being a Darwaysh, I asked him, when he insisted upon my having been born somewhere, to guess for himself. To my joy he claimed me for a brother Pathan, and in course of conversation he declared himself to be the nephew of an Afghan merchant, a gallant old man who had been civil to me at Cairo. We then sat smoking together with “effusion.” Becoming confidential, he complained that he, a Sunni, or orthodox Moslem, had been abused, maltreated, and beaten by his fellow-travellers, the heretical Persian pilgrims. I naturally offered to arm my party, to take up our cudgels, and to revenge my compatriot. This thoroughly Sulaymanian style of doing business could not fail to make him sure of his man. He declined, however, wisely remembering that he had nearly a fortnight of the Persians’ society still to endure. But he promised himself the gratification, when he reached Meccah, of sheathing his Charay[FN#13] in the chief offender’s heart.

At 8 A.M.} on the 14th July we left Al-Wijh, after passing a night, tolerably comfortable by contrast, in the coffee-house. We took with us the stores necessary, for though our Rais had promised to anchor under Jabal Hassani that evening, no one believed him. We sailed among ledges of rock, golden sands, green weeds, and in some places through yellow lines of what appeared to me at a distance foam after a storm. All day a sailor sat upon the masthead, looking at the water, which was transparent as blue glass, and shouting out the direction. This precaution was somewhat stultified by the roar of voices, which never

[p.218] failed to mingle with the warning, but we wore every half hour, and we did not run aground. About midday we passed by Shaykh Hasan al-Marabit’s tomb. It is the usual domed and whitewashed building, surrounded by the hovels of its guardians, standing upon a low flat island of yellow rock, vividly reminding me of certain scenes in Sind. Its dreary position attracts to it the attention of passing travellers; the dead saint has a prayer and a Fatihah for the good of his soul, and the live sinner wends his way with religious refreshment.

Near sunset the wind came on to blow freshly, and we cast anchor together with the Persian pilgrims upon a rock. This was one of the celebrated coral reefs of the Red Sea, and the sight justified Forskal’s emphatic description-luxus lususque naturae. It was a huge ledge or platform rising but little above the level of the deep; the water-side was perpendicular as the wall of a fort; and, whilst a frigate might have floated within a yard of it, every ripple dashed over the reef, replenishing the little basins and hollows in the surface. The colour of the waves near it was a vivid amethyst. In the distance the eye rested upon what appeared to be meadows of brilliant flowers resembling those of earth, only far brighter and more lovely. Nor was this Land of the Sea wholly desolate. Gulls and terns here swam the tide; there, seated upon the coral, devoured their prey. In the air, troops of birds contended noisily for a dead flying fish,[FN#14] and in the deep water they chased a shoal, which, in fright and hurry to escape the pursuers, veiled the surface with

[p.219] spray and foam. And as night came on the scene shifted, displaying fresh beauties. Shadows clothed the background, whose features, dimly revealed, allowed full scope to the imagination. In the forepart of the picture lay the sea, shining under the rays of the moon with a metallic lustre; while its border, where the wavelets dashed upon the reef, was lit by what the Arabs call the “jewels of the deep[FN#15]”-brilliant flashes of phosphoric light giving an idea of splendour which Art would vainly strive to imitate. Altogether it was a bit of fairyland, a spot for nymphs and sea-gods to disport upon: you might have heard, without astonishment, old Proteus calling his flocks with the writhed conch; and Aphrodite seated in her shell would have been only a fit and proper climax for its loveliness.

But-as philosophically remarked by Sir Cauline the Knyghte-

“Every whyte must have its blacke,
And every sweete its soure-“

this charming coral reef was nearly being the scene of an ugly accident. The breeze from seaward set us slowly but steadily towards the reef, a fact of which we soon became conscious. Our anchor was not dragging; it had not rope enough to touch the bottom, and vainly we sought for more. In fact the “Golden Wire” was as disgracefully deficient in all the appliances of safety, as any English merchantman in the nineteenth century,-a circumstance which accounts for the shipwrecks and for the terrible loss of life perpetually occurring about the Pilgrimage-season in these seas. Had she struck upon the razor-like edges of the coral-reef, she would have melted

[p.220] away like a sugar-plum in the ripple, for the tide was rising at the time. Having nothing better to do, we began to make as much noise as possible. Fortunately for us, the Rais commanding the Persian’s boat was an Arab from Jeddah; and more than once we had treated him with great civility. Guessing the cause of our distress, he sent two sailors overboard with a cable; they swam gallantly up to us; and in a few minutes we were safely moored to the stern of our useful neighbour. Which done, we applied ourselves to the grateful task of beating our Rais, and richly had he deserved it. Before noon, when the wind was shifting, he had not once given himself the trouble to wear; and when the breeze was falling, he preferred dosing to taking advantage of what little wind remained. With energy we might have been moored that night comfortably under the side of Hassani Island, instead of floating about on an unquiet sea with a lee-shore of coral-reef within a few yards of our counter.

At dawn the next day (15th July) we started. We made Jabal Hassani[FN#16] about noon, and an hour or so before sunset we glided into Marsa Mahar. Our resting-place resembled Marsa Dumayghah at an humble distance; the sides of the cove, however, were bolder and more precipitous. The limestone rocks presented a peculiar appearance; in some parts the base and walls had crumbled away, leaving a coping to project like a canopy; in others the wind and rain had cut deep holes, and pierced the friable material with caverns that looked like the work of art. There was a pretty opening of backwood at the bottom of the

[p.221] cove; and palm trees in the blue distance gladdened our eyes, which pined for the sight of something green. The Rais, as usual, would have terrified us with a description of the Hutaym tribe that holds these parts, and I knew from Welsted and Moresby that it is a debased race. But forty-eight hours of cramps on board ship would make a man think lightly of a much more imminent danger.

Wading to shore we cut our feet with the sharp rocks. I remember to have felt the acute pain of something running into my toe: but after looking at the place and extracting what appeared to be a bit of thorn,[FN#17] I dismissed the subject, little guessing the trouble it was to give me. Having scaled the rocky side of the cove, we found some half-naked Arabs lying in the shade; they were unarmed, and had nothing about them except their villainous countenances wherewith to terrify the most timid. These men still live in limestone caves, like the Thamud tribe of tradition; also they are Ichthyophagi, existing without any other subsistence but what the sea affords. They were unable to provide us with dates, flesh, or milk, but they sold us a kind of fish called in India “Bui”: broiled upon the embers, it proved delicious.

After we had eaten and drunk and smoked, we began to make merry; and the Persians, who, fearing to come on shore, had kept to their conveyance, appeared proper butts for the wit of some of our party: one of us stood up and pronounced the orthodox call to prayer, after which the rest joined in a polemical hymn, exalting the virtues

[p.222] and dignity of the first three Caliphs.[FN#18] Then, as general on such occasions, the matter was made personal by informing the Persians in a kind of rhyme sung by the Meccan gamins, that they were the “slippers of Ali and the dogs of Omar.” But as they were too frightened to reply, my companions gathered up their cooking utensils, and returned to the “Golden Wire,” melancholy, like disappointed candidates for the honours of Donnybrook.

Our next day was silent and weary, for we were all surly, and heartily sick of being on board ship. We should have made Yambu’ in the evening but for the laziness of the Rais. Having duly beaten him, we anchored on the open coast, insufficiently protected by a reef, and almost in sight of our destination. In the distance rose Jabal Radhwah or Radhwa,[FN#19] one of the “Mountains of Paradise[FN#20]” in which honoured Arabia abounds. It is celebrated by poetry as well as by piety.

“Did Radhwah strive to support my woes, Radhwah itself would be crushed by the weight,”

says Antar.[FN#21] It supplies Al-Madinah with hones. I heard much of its valleys and fruits and bubbling springs, but afterwards I learned to rank these tales with the superstitious legends which are attached to it. Gazing at its bare and ghastly heights, one of our party, whose wit was soured by the want of fresh bread, surlily remarked that such a heap of ugliness deserved ejection from heaven,-an irreverence too public to escape general denunciation. We waded on shore, cooked there, and

[p.223] passed the night; we were short of fresh water, which, combined with other grievances, made us as surly as bears. Sa’ad the Demon was especially vicious; his eyes gazed fixedly on the ground, his lips protruded till you might have held up his face by them, his mouth was garnished with bad wrinkles, and he never opened it but he grumbled out a wicked word. He solaced himself that evening by crawling slowly on all-fours over the boy Mohammed, taking scrupulous care to place one knee upon the sleeper’s face. The youth awoke in a fiery rage: we all roared with laughter; and the sulky Negro, after savouring the success of his spite, grimly, as but half satisfied, rolled himself, like a hedgehog, into a ball; and, resolving to be offensive even in his forgetfulness, snored violently all night.

We slept upon the sands and arose before dawn (July 17), determined to make the Rais start in time that day. A slip of land separated us from our haven, but the wind was foul, and by reason of rocks and shoals, we had to make a considerable detour.

It was about noon on the twelfth day after our departure from Suez, when, after slowly beating up the narrow creek leading to Yambu’ harbour, we sprang into a shore-boat and felt new life when bidding an eternal adieu to the vile “Golden Wire.”

I might have escaped much of this hardship and suffering by hiring a vessel to myself. There would then have been a cabin to retire into at night, and shade from the sun; moreover, the voyage would have lasted five, not twelve, days. But I wished to witness the scenes on board a pilgrim ship,-scenes so much talked of by the Moslem palmer home-returned. Moreover, the hire was exorbitant, ranging from L40 to L50, and it would have led to a greater expenditure, as the man who can afford to take a boat must pay in proportion during his lan

[p.224] journey. In these countries you perforce go on as you begin: to “break one’s expenditure,” that is to say, to retrench expenses, is considered all but impossible. We have now left the land of Egypt.

[FN#1] The reader who has travelled in the East will feel that I am not exaggerating. And to convince those who know it only by description, I will refer them to any account of our early campaigns in Sind, where many a European soldier has been taken up stone dead after sleeping an hour or two in the morning sun.
[FN#2] The Zodiacal Light on the Red Sea, and in Bombay, is far brighter than in England. I suppose this is the “after-glow” described by Miss Martineau and other travellers: “flashes of light like coruscations of the Aurora Borealis in pyramidal form” would exactly describe the phenomenon. It varies, however, greatly, and often for some days together is scarcely visible.
[FN#3] Niebuhr considers that the stars are brighter in Norway than in the Arabian deserts; I never saw them so bright as on the Neilgherry hills.
[FN#4] Written in the days of the vans, which preceded the Railway. [FN#5] On one occasion I was obliged personally to exert myself to prevent a party of ladies being thrust into an old and bad transit-van; the ruder sex having stationed itself at some distance from the starting-place in order to seize upon the best. [FN#6] Abraham, for breaking his father’s idols, was cast by Nimrod into a fiery furnace, which forthwith became a garden of roses. (See Chapter xxi. of the Koran, called “the Prophets.”) [FN#7] David worked as an armourer, but the steel was as wax in his hands.
[FN#8] Solomon reigned over the three orders of created beings: the fable of his flying carpet is well known. (See Chapter xxvii. of the Koran, called “the Ant.”)
[FN#9] These are mystic words, and entirely beyond the reach of dictionaries and vocabularies.
[FN#10] In Moresby’s Survey, “Sherm Demerah,” the creek of Demerah. Ali Bey calls it Demeg.
[FN#11] See “The Land of Midian (Revisited)” for a plan of Al-Dumayghah, and a description of Al-Wijh (al-Bahr) These men of the Beni Jahaynah, or “Juhaynah” tribe-the “Beni Kalb,” as they are also called,-must not be trusted. They extend from the plains north of Yambu’ into the Sinaitic Peninsula. They boast no connection with the great tribe Al-Harb; but they are of noble race, are celebrated for fighting, and, it is said, have good horses. The specimens we saw at Marsa Dumayghah were poor ones, they had few clothes, and no arms except the usual Jambiyah (crooked dagger). By their civility and their cringing style of address it was easy to see they had been corrupted by intercourse with strangers.
[FN#12] It is written Wish and Wejh; by Ali Bey Vadjeh and Wadjih; Wodjeh and Wosh by Burckhardt; and Wedge by Moresby. [FN#13] The terrible Afghan knife.
[FN#14] These the Arabs, in the vulgar tongue, call Jarad al-Bahr, “sea locusts”; as they term the shrimp Burghut al-Bahr, or the sea-flea. Such compound words, palpably derived from land objects, prove the present Ichthyophagi and the Badawin living on the coast to be a race originally from the interior. Pure and ancient Arabs still have at least one uncompounded word to express every object familiar to them, and it is in this point that the genius of the language chiefly shows itself.
[FN#15] The Arab superstition is, that these flashes of light are jewels made to adorn the necks and hair of the mermaids and mermen. When removed from their native elements the gems fade and disappear. If I remember right, there is some idea similar to this among the Scotch, and other Northern people.
[FN#16] The word Jabal will frequently occur in these pages. It is applied by the Arabs to any rising ground or heap of rocks, and, therefore, must not always be translated “Mountain.” In the latter sense, it has found its way into some of the Mediterranean dialects. Gibraltar is Jabal al-Tarik, and “Mt. Ethne that men clepen Mounte Gybelle” is “Monte Gibello,”-the mountain, par excellence. [FN#17] It was most probably a prickle of the “egg-fruit,” or Echinus, so common in these seas, generally supposed to be poisonous. I found it impossible to cure my foot in Al-Hijaz, and every remedy seemed to make it worse. This was as much the effect of the climate of Arabia, as of the hardships and privations of a pilgrimage. After my return to Egypt in the autumn, the wound healed readily without medical treatment. [FN#18] Abu Bakr, Omar, and Osman.
[FN#19] I have found both these forms of writing the word in books; Moresby, or rather Mr. Rassam, erroneously spells it “Ridwah.” [FN#20] In a future chapter, when describing a visit to Mt. Ohod, near Al-Madinah, I shall enter into some details about these “Mountains of Paradise.”
[FN21] The translator, however, erroneously informs us, in a footnote, that Radhwah is a mountain near Meccah.

[p.225]CHAPTER XII.

THE HALT AT YAMBU’.

THE heat of the sun, the heavy dews, and the frequent washings of the waves, had so affected my foot, that on landing at Yambu’ I could scarcely place it upon the ground. But traveller’s duty was to be done; so, leaning upon my “slave’s” shoulder, I started at once to see the town, whilst Shaykh Hamid and the others of our party proceeded to the custom-house.

Yanbu’a al-Bahr, Yambu’ or Fountain of the Sea,[FN#1] identified, by Abyssinian Bruce, with the Iambia village of Ptolemy, is a place of considerable importance, and shares with others the title of “Gate of the Holy City.” It is the third quarter of the caravan road[FN#2] from Cairo to Meccah; and here, as well as at Al-Badr, pilgrims frequently leave behind them, in hired warehouses, goods too heavy to be transported in haste, or too valuable to risk in dangerous times. Yambu’ being the port of Al-Madinah,

[p.226] as Jeddah is of Meccah, is supported by a considerable transport trade and extensive imports from the harbours on the Western coasts of the Red Sea; it supplies its chief town with grain, dates, and henna. Here the Sultan’s dominion is supposed to begin, whilst the authority of the Pasha of Egypt ceases; there is no Nizam, or Regular Army, however, in the town,[FN#3] and the governor is a Sharif or Arab chief. I met him in the great bazar; he is a fine young man of light complexion and the usual high profile, handsomely dressed, with a Cashmere turband, armed to the extent of sword and dagger, and followed by two large, fierce-looking Negro slaves leaning upon enormous Nabbuts.

The town itself is in no wise remarkable. Built on the edge of a sunburnt plain that extends between the mountains and the sea, it fronts the northern extremity of a narrow winding creek. Viewed from the harbour, it is a long line of buildings, whose painful whiteness is set off by a sky-like cobalt and a sea-like indigo; behind it lies the flat, here of a bistre-brown, there of a lively tawny; whilst the background is formed by dismal Radhwah,

“Barren and bare, unsightly, unadorned.”

Outside the walls are a few little domes and tombs, which by no means merit attention. Inside, the streets are wide; and each habitation is placed at an unsociable distance from its neighbour, except near the port and the bazars, where ground is valuable. The houses are roughly built of limestone and coralline, and their walls full of fossils crumble like almond cake; they have huge

[p.227] hanging windows, and look mean after those in the Moslem quarters of Cairo. There is a “Suk,” or market-street of the usual form, a long narrow lane darkened by a covering of palm leaves, with little shops let into the walls of the houses on both sides. The cafes, which abound here, have already been described in the last chapter; they are rendered dirty in the extreme by travellers, and it is impossible to sit in them without a fan to drive away the flies. The custom-house fronts the landing-place upon the harbour; it is managed by Turkish officials,-men dressed in Tarbushes, who repose the livelong day upon the Diwans near the windows. In the case of us travellers they had a very simple way of doing business, charging each person of the party three piastres for each large box, but by no means troubling themselves to meddle with the contents.[FN#4] Yambu’ also boasts of a Hammam or hot bath, a mere date-leaf shed, tenanted by an old Turk, who, with his surly Albanian assistant, lives by “cleaning” pilgrims and travellers. Some whitewashed Mosques and Minarets of exceedingly simple form, a Wakalah or two for the reception of merchants, and a saint’s tomb, complete the list of public buildings.

In one point Yambu’ claims superiority over most other towns in this part of Al-Hijaz. Those who can afford the luxury drink sweet rain-water, collected amongst the hills in tanks and cisterns, and brought on camelback to the town. Two sources are especially praised, the Ayn al-Birkat and the Ayn Ali, which suffice to supply the whole population: the brackish water of the wells is confined to coarser purposes. Some of the old people here, as at Suez, are said to prefer the drink to which

[p.228] years of habit have accustomed them, and it is a standing joke that, arrived at Cairo, they salt the water of the Nile to make it palatable.