After proceeding over the remains of what might either have been her palace or her bath, we soon came in sight of what probably is her monument. We beheld in one place in the vast plain, about twenty-six pyramids. Of these not one was quite perfect, and twelve of the number were shapeless heaps of ruin. On an eminence, about two miles further in the desert, we observed a still greater number of these monuments standing in the form of a semi-circle. Of these eighteen were perfect, except near the top, four a good deal injured, three quite broken down, and six in a straight line. We measured one, and found it forty-seven feet square, and thirty feet high—had been fifty perhaps when perfect. Twenty-one stones formed its elevation up to the broken part, each stone one foot five inches in thickness. The highest pyramid we measured was composed of thirty-six stones, equal to about fifty feet; but like almost all the others it had suffered at the top.
About a quarter of a mile towards the south, on another rising ground, there exist several other pyramids in a more perfect state—about thirteen in all. In the centre is a large and deep hole, whence exhales a strong smell of buried mummy—by no means of a refreshing character. Out of this hole Lepsius has extracted, according to report, numerous sarcophagi of much value. One of our men had been with him, and assured us that the present ruinous state of many of these monuments was produced by his researches.
These pyramids are extremely interesting, as genuine remains of a very remote antiquity, and are as extensive as any of the kind I have seen since leaving Carnac. The map incorrectly designated them brick; they are built of the usual stone—grit sandstone. The summit of nearly all of them may be reached without any great difficulty, the ascent being step-like; but in the highest four stones, some are too smooth. At the top, the inside is solid, with large stones and gravel; and many of those that were pulled down, were solid all the way to the bottom. In front of several, there is a small porch, which, from its lowness, has escaped the ravages of time better than those portions of the building that rear their heads a good deal nearer the skies.
Many very uncouth hieroglyphics are sculptured on the walls; but everything here is well worthy of observation; and not the least so is the prospect of the vast plain, the pink-tinted mountains, and the broad Nile, continually winding along and disappearing.
On the sixth of January, we began to make more progress, and about ten o’clock in the morning, arrived at the most northern tributary of the Nile—rather a small stream, when compared with the immense river into which it falls. The banks of the Atbarah are high, and far apart; but it was quite low water, and the channel appeared half-filled with lupins and beans, sprouting luxuriantly from a bed of mud. To-day, for the first time, I saw a hippopotamus, though some of our party had already beheld two. He was frightened at a shot that had been fired at a crocodile, and rushed for a minute or so out of the water on to the bank, but speedily made a dive into his native mud and disappeared.
This was a very young one, about as large, perhaps, as a small Guernsey cow. Those seen on a former occasion by some of the party, were much more interesting. Two of these enormous beasts were floating unconcernedly, with their immense mouths wide open, and, being pink inside, they very much resembled a mass of butcher’s meat; our ladies voted them plain and even disgusting. They are here very numerous, and commit great ravages; not so much by eating as by trampling down whole fields of corn and beans. They are hardly ever seen during the day; but at night they resort in numbers to the islands on the river, where they take the air unmolested, and roll themselves in fields of grass and lupins.
They are, accordingly, much hated by the natives, who hear them making their peculiar noise, while destroying and ravaging some unhappy Arab’s property. The sufferers do not seem to take very active measures to disperse them; probably as it is Allah’s will, and partly also from their aversion to going out in the dark.
The inhabitants of an island, a short distance below Berber, applied, while we were at Khartoum, for troops to drive away these midnight revellers, and a hundred soldiers were dispatched hippopotami-hunting. Troops are made of all sorts of use in the East; a battalion of infantry was sent boar-hunting in the Delta last year, owing to the great devastation committed by these animals, by rooting up acres of cotton. I think this sporting must be more amusing than the frontier work against the Shellouk tribes, north of Kordofan.
By sunset we came in sight of Berber, on the sixth day of our voyage from Khartoum, which city it much resembled, though its banks sloped a great deal more to the river. Scarcely was the plank adjusted for our stepping ashore, when Mahamet Elmi, the sub-governor of Berber, a well-dressed and curious little Turk, apparently as quiet as a dormouse, came to the boat to pay his respects to us, accompanied by a good-looking cavalry officer, and by one of the handsomest men I had ever seen—he was a priest, and quite a celebrity in the country; of him I shall say more presently. We ascertained that every preparation had been made for us that we could have desired, and that if we insisted we might start at once. We, however, resolved to await the arrival of Ali Bey Hassib, whom we expected hourly.
We here made the acquaintance of Monsieur L——, a gentleman from Bordeaux, who makes annual excursions up the White River. He prefers the climate and society of Berber, to existing in the continual sunshine enjoyed by his compatriots at Khartoum. He finds the air of Berber so healthy, that he has settled himself here—his first step in that direction being the selection of a wife, a beautiful white slave, whom he purchased. How dear she was to him, I really had not the means of ascertaining; but I have no doubt that his capital found what in the city is called “a very pretty investment.” It would not do to sing here—
The heart finds a market every day, and the rest of her organization is thrown in by way of make-weight. I do not know but what this system has its advantages. The immortal direction of Mrs. Glasse, as to the dressing a hare, is not more to the purpose than would be the suggestions of a Berber bachelor as to the securing a wife: for nothing can be made so completely one’s own, as what we have bought and paid for.
Romance of Oriental life — Summary justice and Latiffe Pasha — His despotism — Hatred of Europeans — A box on the ear — Visit to the hareem of Ali Bey Hassib — Juvenile costume — Marabouts.
My mother and sister paid a visit to the hareem of Ali Bey Hassib, to the door of which we accompanied them, after passing through a yard tenanted by a giraffe and an ostrich, and defended by two brass cannon and fifteen very inferior looking soldiers—they, however, constitute the force armée of Berber, capital of the province of that name; the rest being employed in the war.
This town much resembles all other towns in the East; it is, however, the largest in Nubia, and the inhabitants may number about eight thousand. It is very difficult to speak with any degree of accuracy about the population of these countries; as the people have an insurmountable objection to having their names down in the government lists, founded on an impression that only those whose names are so inscribed, will figure in more important documents—the taxation or the conscription lists.
The population, always on the decrease in these towns, continues to pay the same taxation as in the time of Mehemet Ali, though numbers have absconded into the desert, and absolutism is communist in one point, in making those who will pay for those who do not; thus, if your neighbour is a bankrupt, you pay his taxes, as the Sheik of the village must forward the same amount annually to the Governor of the province.
The oppression under which the poor natives labour, proceeds chiefly from the head man of their village. The power these petty governors exercise is immense; for if they bear a particular dislike to any person under their rule, to put down his eldest son as a conscript, is a never-failing way of humbling him to the dust, and is often made the means of great extortion.
The Central Government is gradually dismissing the sheiks governing the villages in Upper Egypt, and has nearly all the government of Lower Egypt already in its hands: a step, the policy of which cannot be too much applauded. We believe that it proceeds from more enlightened minds than those of the followers of Mahomet.
Traversing mounds of earth, which form the principal streets, you soon find yourself in the midst of the Nubian capital, and surrounded by all the interesting objects of a city in the East; children running here and there, or making the little mud pies, which form a staple amusement to the youth of all nations; or trotting under the weight of some little brother or sister, as yet unable to toddle along on its own account, and soothing it when some heap of dust occasions a rough fall; men loitering about pipe in hand, and graceful women carrying the large jars of water, the supply for the day; donkeys trotting gaily by under the weight of the richer Arabs, and camels with their wild-looking owners seated on the top of the high leathern saddle, preparing for a long journey across the desert, or arriving at their houses after a weary march.
The bazaars, if such a street of open booths may be called so, are crowded with natives, selling or buying grain, cotton, or camel furniture, or productions of more northern latitudes. The dogs were, as usual, very numerous and very noisy, running between every one’s legs, and confident in the superstition which prevents their extirpation, make themselves as disagreeable as possible.
The houses are mostly built of mud and sun-dried bricks, though here and there a burnt brick house appeared, the mansion of some native grandee.
We noticed with pleasure some Nubians walking with their unveiled wives—an unusual sight in Egypt—and even caressing their funny little children, carrying them in the peculiar Eastern fashion; which I can fancy must be more healthy to the children than that adopted by us. The infant, even at a very early age, learns to cling to his parent, sitting as it were astride on her hips, while one arm is placed round the child’s waist, by the careful mother, to prevent it from falling.
It is a most striking feature to observe the utter indifference of Egyptian mothers, and even of many fathers, to their young children; it was many weeks before I noticed any mark of tenderness passing between a parent and child; but probably this indifference is assumed in public.
While at the Governor’s divan we heard some extraordinary stories of our obliging friend, Latiffe Pasha; proving that Madame Scandal in this remote quarter is as busy as she often is in the most favoured spots of our own dear land. One of these being particularly illustrative of the romance of Oriental life, as a faithful chronicler of the manners and customs of these people, I think I ought not to omit it.
When his Excellency left Cairo, he took with him a young Greek lady of respectable parents, who had been his wife’s intimate friend and companion, and was neither a slave, nor in any way related to him. He was also accompanied by a young man whom he had adopted, and who went by the name of Ibreem Latiffe. While passing through Berber, he took a fancy to one of Ali Bey Hassib’s wives, whom he asked for, and, as that gentleman had at the time a larger stock than he wanted, he at once offered to spare one for his friend. He carried her off to Khartoum, where he had been only a few weeks, when he married his adopted son to the fair Greek, with more than usual ceremony: and all parties, as is the custom of the country, lived very comfortably in the same hareem.
About two months ago, two of the attendants of the hareem came to him with a long story about his Greek daughter-in-law and a purveyor in the army, whom they had seen together in the garden of the hareem. The instant he heard it, Latiffe Pasha ordered in six of his Janissaries and the male delinquent. The latter he charged with the offence, and without listening to his assertions of innocence, condemned him to be shot. At first the Janissaries refused to sacrifice the officer, but the Pasha, mad with rage, insisted on his immediate execution, and one of the men shot him in the neck. He fell wounded, and was then thrown into the Nile. Latiffe, accompanied by this Janissary, now hurried into the garden of the hareem, and sent for the Greek lady, who was actually at that moment with her husband. The instant she came, she was shot, and her body cast into the river.
After this summary justice, his Excellency appeared satisfied, but evidently was not quite at his ease. His appetite fell off, and he could not sleep. He now thought, for the first time, of making some inquiries respecting the affair, and consulted a Turk at Khartoum, who was eminent for his sagacity. On hearing the whole of the case, the Turk assured him that he not only had been too hasty in forming his judgment, from the only testimony of the guilt of the parties that had been submitted to him, but that the lady, being neither his wife nor his slave, he had no right to take her life.
The Pasha became extremely dissatisfied with himself, particularly when further inquiry assured him of the untrustworthiness of the accusers of his unfortunate victims. He recompensed the five Janissaries who had refused to execute his sanguinary commands: the other suddenly disappeared, and was never more heard of. But the husband—the reader will naturally ask—what became of the poor young man? how could he ever get over such a blow to his happiness as this atrocious murder of his lovely bride? It is supposed that he got over it with the usual indifference to emotion of a Turk, for very shortly afterwards he received another wife, and not a word was said about the poor Greek. The fact was officially notified to Ali Bey Hassib, so there seems no reason for doubting the story.
No statement could more clearly show the absolute despotism that prevails here, the contempt of human life, and the small respect in which females are held: thrilling features also are the want of feeling in the husband, the hesitation in the Janissaries, (never remarkable for over-scrupulousness), the laxity of the government that passes over so atrocious a proceeding, and the curious state of the postal arrangements in a country, in which such an act can be perpetrated without exciting the slightest observation.
Notwithstanding Latiffe Pasha’s cordiality to us, we heard that his hatred to Europeans is intense. This arose out of the following circumstances: While employed in the navy, he contrived to strand a vessel of one hundred and twenty guns on the Alexandrian sands, by attempting to enter the port without a pilot, in direct defiance of the rules of the service. For this he was condemned to death by a court-martial, of which a Frenchman was President; but Mehemet Ali thought proper to cancel the sentence, and made Latiffe Governor of the Alexandrian Arsenal. While there, a Maltese, who filled a high post in the service, came to him for some arrears of pay. Latiffe directed him to bring a receipt, and when it was brought the Pasha tore it and abused him in a way his half-English blood could not brook. The Maltese took his departure without a word; but when Latiffe went out, he found the man waiting for him at the door. He immediately demanded the reason of his having been so insulted, and astonished the Pasha extremely by giving him a box on the ear; immediately after which he decamped to Malta, where he was under the protection of her Majesty’s Consul.
When he arrived at Khartoum, Latiffe Pasha found himself in the midst of a circle of enterprising Europeans, every one assuming the authority of a consul, and talking in a style as if he commanded a prodigious force composed of horse-guards, chasseurs à cheval, jägers, or Austrian hussars. This still further increased his distaste for the species, which he shows on every occasion.
In the midst of these characteristic anecdotes, one of the attendants of the hareem put his head into the very comfortable divan in which we were being entertained, and announced the return of the ladies. We left our pipes and joined them, and were speedily put in possession of the result of their observations.
It appeared that they were not so very well pleased with their visit. The ladies of the hareem—Abyssinian slaves—were gaudily dressed, and not lady-like in person, while the room in which the strangers had been received had much the aspect of an untidy nursery. There were two very nice children there—Master and Miss Ali Bey Hassib. The boy was dressed in red cloth breeches, red coat, and black cloth cloak, which had a curious effect, as he was only two feet ten inches high. The young lady was pretty, and of a genteel appearance. The seniors of the party were not so interesting—certainly inferior to Madame Latiffe. As their visitors had no interpreter, they were obliged to carry on an imperfect correspondence by means of signs. This, however, did not prevent the ladies of the hareem from kissing and examining their new acquaintances with immense zeal. Coffee and lemonade were served in the usual way, and then came the adieux.
On our return to the boats, we beheld a great number of marabouts stalking through the corn-fields, apparently as tame as chickens. This aggravated us into sending for our guns; but our first attempt at a nearer approach, decided the matter. They never allowed us to get near enough to have a shot, and we were obliged to abandon our purpose. Their feathers are extremely beautiful, and more valuable than those of the ostrich.
Prejudices of Nubian parents — Egyptian youths sent for education to Paris and London — Unsatisfactory result — Story of a Perversion — Its tragic end — Jealousy of the Egyptian Government — A grand prospect.
The efforts recently made by the Government of Egypt to educate the children of the Arabs, has as yet been attended with very little success. This is owing to the intense prejudice of the parents, who will run away into the most remote corners of the desert, rather than allow any one related to them, child or adult, to attend the schools.
To provide efficient masters, in many instances boys of good families have been sent to Europe; some to l’Ecole Polytechnique in Paris; some to the London University to qualify as professors; that when they had acquired the learning of civilization, on their return to Cairo they might become useful either in assisting to establish scholastic institutions over the country on the European model, or in preparing native scholars to undertake the duty of schoolmasters.
This portion of the scheme has produced several failures. In some instances, the young Egyptian has not only imbibed European learning, but European religion. He has been taught like a Frank, till he has become a Frank; has abandoned the religion of his family, and, as a natural consequence, has either sought employment under the mild governments of England and France, or has been induced to return to Egypt—only to feel the severest effects of its despotism.
Those who ostensibly remained Mahometans—for in general their new acquirements brought perfectly new views, both as respects religion and politics—on their return to Cairo, were employed in putting others in the way of gaining those advances in knowledge they had themselves made; and it not unfrequently occurred that, long before the pupil had mastered the elementary branches of European learning, some intrigue ousted the master out of his post, and put the pupil in it; or his real opinions escaped him in some unguarded hour, and he was sent away in disgrace to some distant province—perhaps disposed of in a still more arbitrary way, and his name never more mentioned.
He is sure of making plenty of enemies, for most of his countrymen look on the innovations he is producing with rooted aversion; and all the young men who happen to be placed under his charge, are merely preparing to become his rivals. They therefore are only too ready to assist in getting him out of the way, and the chances are a thousand to one against his escaping the various pit-falls that beset his path.
While in Egypt we were told the following story, which I may quote, without, however, vouching for its veracity.
Some time ago, a young man of a wealthy family, at Cairo, was sent to Paris for his education, and became one of the best scholars of l’Ecole Polytechnique. Gifted with great natural talent, and possessed of an Eastern imagination, he had scarcely arrived at manhood, when he gave up his mind entirely to the political sentiments then prevailing in the French capital—sentiments as antagonistic as possible to those which existed in Egypt.
This, however, was far from being the extent of his imprudence. He thought proper to entertain a passion of the warmest nature, for the daughter of one of the professors, a rigid Catholic; and to secure the hand of the young lady, he abjured the faith of Mahomet, and was received with more parade than was necessary into the fold of the Romish Church.
This “perversion” created a greater sensation at Cairo, than it had done at Paris. The family of the apostate were terribly indignant, and would hold no communication with him. The orthodox Mussulmen, who had never favoured the leanings of their ruler towards Christian enlightenment, now were loud in their denunciations of a system which brought scandal on “the true faith.”
The Government maintained an ominous silence. No notice whatever was taken of the affair—not a word was said respecting the offender. He fancied that the matter was not thought of sufficient importance, to require any particular attention from the authorities at Cairo; and though aware that his family and friends regarded his apostasy as an unpardonable offence, and as covering them with disgrace, he hoped that when time had in some degree softened their feelings, he might be suffered to return to his native city, and be received by his relatives with scarcely any diminution of their affection.
For a time, the cultivation of his attachment absorbed all his feelings, and in a great measure diverted his attention from the state of his own affairs; but when he found his resources cut off, that he had no communication whatever from home, and that he was avoided by his compatriots at Paris, he began to feel the inconvenience of his position.
He tried to get employment, but without success—he was then made painfully aware that an outcast, without funds, could have no pretension to the hand of the young lady for whom he had so completely sacrificed himself. Finding his means of subsistence at last entirely fail, he thought of applying to one of his countrymen, till lately his warmest friend, who held a minor post in the Egyptian Embassy.
His friend at first appeared reluctant to hold any communication with him; but when he ascertained that the young man was desirous to return to Cairo, in the hope of making his peace with his family, he encouraged him in that notion. The next day he advanced him funds that he might set off without delay.
During his homeward voyage, he thought only of the reception that awaited him at the hands of the dear friends, from whom he had been so long separated, and entertained himself by anticipating the delightful reunion he should be able to enjoy, after he had sufficiently expressed his contrition for the offence he had committed.
As to the light in which this offence was regarded by the Pasha, he never gave it a thought. He felt assured that the affair had been entirely forgotten by the officials, and did not for a moment dream of any danger from that quarter, or from any other.
Under these impressions, he landed at Cairo, and with all the impatience of youth was making his way for that quarter of the city in which his family resided, fully convinced that not one of his countrymen could recognize him, or could entertain the slightest idea of his being on the soil of Egypt.
In this he was woefully deceived. Every portion of his homeward journey had been under the surveillance of a spy of the Egyptian Government, who had left Paris simultaneously with himself, and was close to him whenever he moved. Information of his expected arrival had been conveyed to the Government; and the moment that he quitted the steam-boat, certain men, for whom the citizens of Cairo rapidly made way, were seen to take a direction which would intercept him on his way to his father’s house.
That house he never reached. A headless trunk floated the next day on the broad waters of the Nile. It was all that remained of the unfortunate youth.
His offence had created a feeling of terrible rage in the Pasha. It was represented that it might produce the most disastrous consequences, and that the punishment of the offender was imperative. He was, therefore, in the manner that has been described, enticed into putting himself in the power of his vindictive enemies.
The story of Bayoumi Effendi, related in a preceding chapter, conveys a lively idea of the obstacles that must present themselves in the career of the ablest of those able men, whose minds have had the advantage of European culture. It has been said that the cause of his disgrace was his being known to hold correspondence with the Government of the Sultan—an offence of the blackest die at Cairo. And it is possible that Bayoumi Effendi, getting dissatisfied with his position under the Sovereign he had selected, had listened to the overtures, which the agents of the Ottoman Porte were constantly making, to draw away from its powerful vassal the most talented of his public servants; this had been observed by some of the thousand watchful eyes that surrounded him; and the expatriation to Khartoum on a pretended scholastic mission is easily understood.
Notwithstanding these “accidents,” I believe that the Egyptian Government is sincere in its efforts to effect an educational reform throughout its dominions. Its experiments in that direction have been made regardless of cost, and with a liberality of licence regarding the amount of Frankish learning to be acquired, that cannot be too highly appreciated. For the ineffective manner in which the movement has worked, it is not exclusively to blame. In the way of obstacles, there were the prejudices of the orthodox, the intrigues of the heterodox, and the pig-headed ignorance and fanaticism of the large class, whose moral and social improvement the last two rulers of Egypt are generally believed to have had in view; and very powerful obstacles they have proved.
Whether Abbas Pasha will persevere, till he has established schools on the European model in every district of Nubia and Egypt; whether, through their agency, the blessings of civilization shall become extended to the remotest nook of the burning desert, and the land of the Arab be restored to that intellectual reputation, which it enjoyed before the now enlightened West had emerged from the darkest depths of barbarism; whether, in this way, a great nation shall arise on the banks of the Nile, that shall produce evidences of intelligence and refinement, rivalling those memorials of a glorious past—Thebes Carnac, and Aboosimbel—form portions of a question that Time alone can properly answer.
I confess, however, to placing much confidence in the future; the small streaks of light, that herald the dawn in the East, are already visible in the horizon: a little patience, and we shall probably behold a sunrise that will shed over the glorious antiquities of this interesting country, the same splendour that dwelt around them in the days of the voluptuous Sardanapalus, or in those of the wise and powerful Ptolemæus Philadelphus.
Mesmerism in Nubia — An Arab Seer — Awkward disclosures — Journey from Berber — Effects of taxation — Scenery of the desert — Gagee — The comfortable point of temperature — Intense heat — Giraffes.
To have such a science as mesmerism flourishing anywhere, is a curious and somewhat perplexing thing, but to have it flourishing in Nubia, here, in the remote district of Berber, is, it must be confessed, a curiosity of the most ultra-curious character.
Wonderful as this is, it is a fact that there is in this town a man—the priest who visited us on board—who has mesmeric trances, during which he discloses the most secret doings of any one who chooses to consult him. The difference between the Nubian and the European mesmerism is, that in the former there are no preliminary passes; none of those wonderful manipulations that are elsewhere found necessary to put the patient in rapport with the inquirer.
In this instance, by long fasting and solitude, the individual mesmerises himself; that is, he contrives without any outward operation to put himself into a trance or sleep, when he becomes in the proper condition to do all sorts of marvels, many of which are quite as startling as anything accomplished by the most successful operators in England, France, and Germany.
We had already had some slight taste of his quality; for on our first arrival, we had stated that Ali Bey Hassib might be expected hourly, but he had predicted that that gentleman would not arrive till the day after the morrow; and he was right. I therefore felt sufficient interest to examine his modus operandi. He is an extraordinarily handsome man, with eyes so remarkably sweet in their expression, that they ought to have belonged to a woman; about six feet high, very well proportioned, and of a clean coppery complexion. He wears a cotton blanket, and a scarf gracefully disposed; and without a doubt is the most striking of the many striking figures I have seen in Nubia.
When asked a difficult question he retires, as it were, within himself, falls into a kind of fit, and then gives his answer. Sometimes with a degree of correctness strangely surprising; at others, with a degree of blundering that surprises people a great deal less.
Ali Bey Hassib has put the Seer’s wonderful qualities to the test more than once. On the occasion of a Bey arriving at Berber, he shut the man up in a room, and then the stranger asked him questions respecting himself. The Seer first of all put himself into the mesmeric state, then began to relate the private history of his questioner, with a fidelity that much astonished that gentleman, and made his friend, the Governor of Berber, extremely uncomfortable.
He stated how the Bey had been banished, what was his offence, how he had left his wife and family, with various little matters of detail, that however strange they may have been, were very far from edifying.
A Frenchman here consulted him under similar circumstances; he was informed that his brother was in the 6th Chasseurs, and that France was a beautiful country, well-cultivated, and well-governed. A description satisfactory, no doubt, to the poor exile, but open to doubts of its accuracy from every other quarter. The next subjects the Seer got upon, were railroads and steam-boats; and here he appeared to be much more at home, giving accounts that were wonderful to hear in so remote a corner of the globe.
He never drinks any intoxicating liquors, and, except when mentally excited, is remarkably effeminate-looking. “Take him for all in all,” I very much doubt that we shall look upon his like again.
We were obliged at last to give up wondering, and dismiss the subject of mesmerism in Berber, for others that began to assume a vast deal more importance. The first of these was our departure, and having, with the assistance of Ali Bey Hassib, completed all our arrangements, we paid our parting compliments, and left Berber.
Our camels were not very good ones, except mine—a beautiful white Bashara (best quality), very small and light, but his best recommendation was, that he was a fool; that is to say wild, for which quality I selected him, and rode him very satisfactorily. He was extremely frisky the first few days, and not up to my weight the remaining time.
The Bashara camel is not confined to Nubia. It is a small species, generally white, with two rings burnt under its ear. These rings are perfect, or only semi-circles according to the breeding of the animal. I may here remark, that the only difference I have been able to discover between a camel and a dromedary is, that the latter is a better description of camel. As the race-horse is to the dray-horse, so is the dromedary to the camel; and I have often heard the expressions, “It is nearly a camel,” or “only half a dromedary.”
We passed innumerable villages—at one time as many as five were visible; indeed the country seemed full of villages and cemeteries. For all which the population is very small, and half the houses are uninhabited. This is said to be caused by the immense taxation. Ali Bey has made the proper representations at Cairo, but without the slightest effect. Out of the small province of Berber, the Government at Cairo receives annually six thousand purses. In this highly fertile district there are not more than five thousand persons who can pay anything, and they contribute six pounds a-piece annually, on an average. The consequence of this is, that the river banks for miles and miles are left uncultivated, while the desert swarms with Arabs, who prefer a wretched subsistence in those obscure and arid plains to remaining by the fertile land near the river. It must be added that in the taxation, only a quarter is ever paid in money—the rest in produce, which the Government takes at most favourable prices.
Our route from Berber was no road, scarcely a track, nothing but hard gravelly sand lying at some distance from the river; but we could see to our left, the line of doum palm trees that marked its course, with occasionally some stunted mimosa shrubs, or a few small palms—a very different scene to the one we had been led to expect—which had been tinted up with rich vegetation, brilliant flowers, and birds and insects of the brightest dyes. There are, however, many places along the banks that are extremely picturesque; especially where the stream, apparently small and shallow, forces its way over large stones, here and there interrupted by a verdant island, overhung by fine mimosas, filling the air with the fragrance of their rich yellow blossoms—their delicate foliage finely set off by a dark background of doum palms. No sound interrupted the stillness of the desert but the murmuring of the water, which had a singularly soothing and tranquillizing effect.
A little further on our journey we came again among date-trees which grow here in great numbers wild, without owners, and without taxation. I cannot understand why they are not made to grow at Khartoum, where they are an expensive luxury, and further south, where they are quite unknown.
The desert closely resembled that at Dongola; I beheld quartz of many colours—white, pink, blue, and red, here and there on the ground. The cataract lasted a great distance, about thirty miles; the river runs rapidly over the rocks, but hardly deserves the title of cataract. When we were not in the desert, we rode along the banks of the river, which frequently equalled the most beautiful lake scenery I had ever seen in Switzerland, or elsewhere. Wild palm-trees grew luxuriantly, and not poly like the palms in Lower Egypt.
Towards noon on the 12th of January, our guide came to a halt, and informed us that our route here left the river for three hours, during which we should find neither shade nor water. We, therefore, decided on turning towards the thick groves we beheld at some distance, and selecting some high ground where we could catch the little air that blew from the river, and find repose after the fatigue and the heat. We pitched our tents under the shade of some of the trees on a semi-circular arena, that had in better times been cultivated, and which was still bordered along the edge of the river by crops of durra corn. At a short distance lay a small village, consisting of a few mud huts, separated one from the other by little yards wherein the children played. The heat was often intense—in the valley broiling, but the Nile ran swiftly by on the other side of the village, and a bath there invariably brought down my temperature to the comfortable point.
This place was called Gagee, and is about twenty miles from Aboohamed. While here we had several visits: among others, the Sheik of the camels, hearing of our caravan, came to see what detained us—galloping on his camel in grand style out of the arena, followed by two attendants. He is a fine handsome man, owner of hundreds of camels, and levies a tribute of six piastres on every camel that crosses the desert of Korosko. He was travelling with several servants on capital dromedaries.
During our stay in the neighbourhood of some Bedouins, we, as was customary with us, contrived to establish very close relations with one of the children—a laughing, pretty, graceful, copper-coloured little fellow, about two years old. The next day came his mamma, with face and eyes worthy of a princess; yet her residence was made of a mat, stretched on poles three or four feet high.
We visited some Bedouin huts, and by means of dates and tobacco, made ourselves agreeable to both old and young. One woman was extremely pretty, and her husband was also very good-looking. He was quite a young man, and arrived during our stay at Gagee, with his two camels. He took possession of his house—a quantity of mats stretched over crooked sticks stuck in the ground, not unlike a gipsy tent in appearance—but his young wife had made it both comfortable and picturesque inside, by hanging it round with bows, spears and calabashes, while preparing for his return—till then spending her time with some friends, who lived close by in one of those summer-house kind of residences composed of four palm-trees with poles between, and durra stalks, which made walls that
they kept out the sun and let in the wind.
Three other ladies occupied this residence (only seven feet square), without counting husbands who were working at the durra-fields, or at the groaning sakeia, or riding over the desert after ostriches or gazelles, so they did not trouble us much. To say the truth, we did not miss them, for, as in more civilized countries, the women are far the most tractable of the sexes.
Though Mungo Park was lamented by ladies, who were sorry that he had
This could hardly have been in Nubia, where the corn is, with water, their only food; where that corn is wretched durra, which is roasted in ashes which were durra fruit. The extreme poverty of these people is not more wonderful to me, than is the way in which they manage to flourish on their scanty fare. The women, like the men, are all sleek and fat; the children the same.
One day we were shewn a fox, quite English in character. It had been chained by his captors, and was brought to us to purchase; but we did not fancy it as a favourite.
Three giraffes rested near us, under a shady out-house, through the ruined roof of which it was curious to see them poking their long heads. They were a present from Latiffe Pasha to Son Altesse, and were travellers in grand state, each having two she-camels to provide it with milk.
The heat was often scarcely to be endured, and the wind occasionally blew a hurricane, generally veering round with the sun, and then the dust was extremely troublesome. We tried to shelter the tent from the rays of the afternoon sun with palm-leaves, but they shrunk up so quickly that we were obliged to abandon the attempt. Then we prepared one of the deserted mud houses, on the edge of the cleared spot where we were encamped, and fresh thatched it with branches of euphorbia and palm.
On the fourth day of our stay, our dragoman startled us a little with the announcement, that our provisions would not last more than a week or a fortnight; as we knew not how long we might remain, and had a desert before us of from eight to twenty days’ journey according to different accounts, we found it absolutely necessary to send for a fresh supply; and, with full reliance on his honesty and celerity, we dispatched the head guide to Berber.
Hitherto our journey had been one of the most agreeable that could be conceived. The novelty of the country, the purity of the air, the many striking objects that came under our observation, kept me in an intense state of enjoyment, and my spirits were often wild with excitement.
But there was a change coming, for which none of us were prepared, that completely put an end to all our interest in the scenes through which we had still to pass before reaching our home.
My father had for some days been indisposed, but not sufficiently so as to alarm any of us. On reaching Gagee, he was unable to proceed further, grew rapidly worse, and, after five days varying illness, borne with unvarying serenity and resignation—breathed his last. Thus were we, before we were fully aware of his danger, bereaved of a parent on whose enlightened guidance and affectionate sympathy we all depended in every circumstance of our lives. But private griefs shrink from publicity, and I cannot dwell on them in these pages. We sent to the chiefs of the village to request a place in their cemetery. They expressed their sympathy with our sorrow, they immediately desired us to take our choice, and then guided us to the spot, which was about two miles from the river.
It was indeed a dreary walk; the sky was dark, the wind blew the fine sand in clouds around us, and we could see only a few yards in advance. After selecting the ground, the inhabitants of the village prepared the tomb, and were found assembled near it in crowds of all ages, when we again approached to lay the loved form in the deep grave they had dug.
After reading the funeral service, according to our English customs, we distributed alms, in conformity to those of the Arab. With these people, charity is not confined to the moment of interment; but for months, and even years after, on Friday, (the Mahometan Sabbath), the relations of the deceased attend at the grave to keep it in repair, and give food and money to the poor, who go there as the surest place to obtain assistance; and it is for the purpose of sheltering such persons, that the small mosques and buildings often found in these localities, are erected.
The cemeteries are always respected—indeed, are held as sacred among these wild, untutored people as among ourselves; so much so are they in public opinion, that when setting out on a journey, the Nubians frequently deposit near them their valuables. The place is not enclosed, and we often beheld in the cemeteries a collection of household goods, pitchers, &c., suspended from a tree, or laid near a grave, the vicinity of which was a sufficient protection during the absence of the owner.
During our five days’ detention here, the guides had behaved very well, paying daily visits, and making kind inquiries at our tent; but now the second guide refused to proceed without his brother, whose return was not expected in less than seven days, and even threatened to take us back to Berber, alleging, as his reason, that his engagement no longer held good. Our servants expressed their indignation at his conduct in such unequivocal terms, that his resolution, if he ever entertained it, began to waver, and it presently became evident that he had changed his mind altogether. We showed a determined indifference to his opinion; the camels were collected and brought into the encampment before dark; the packages were prepared, the burthens adjusted, and when, at sunrise, everything was ready for a start, he, without further demur, placed himself at the head of the caravan.
Slowly and sadly we climbed the steep bank, and wound our way through the thicket of doum palms which, a short time since, we had entered with feelings so very different. We made a circuit to behold once more the burying-ground. How desolate it looked in the grey of the morning, with its neat graves, with their dark headstones and mounds, sprinkled over with snow-white, quartz pebbles. Before us lay a flat plain, over which a few stunted mimosas were scattered, and here and there we observed that the sand was shaded grey and white by the débris of the quartz rocks, which in several places rose to a great height, in grotesque shapes, resembling ruins; one even was named to us as a temple. In the distance were two purple hills, standing by themselves, so unlike in colour to anything else in the landscape, that they did not seem to belong to it.
The sun rose, covered for the first time with clouds; the wind was from the north, and so keen that, after a few hours’ ride, we were so benumbed with cold as to be glad to dismount and seek shelter behind some bushes, where we basked in the sun till we were warm enough to proceed. For these sudden variations of temperature, according as the wind blew from the south or north, we were quite unprepared, and found them very trying.
Nothing could exceed the considerate attention of our own Arab servants; to have lost a traveller, whilst under their care, was a great blow to them, and it was the first time they had been visited by such a misfortune. The dragoman especially took the most tender care of all of us; sometimes, on the march, dropping behind out of hearing of our conversation, sometimes striving to counsel, often endeavouring to amuse. He told stories illustrative of Arab manners and traditions, and kept guard at night over our tent and water; in short, he did everything that could in any way promote the comfort of his charge.
Such attention was needed by some of us, and appreciated by all during our ten days’ march, which every day extended to the limits of our strength and daylight. Our only desire now being to reach home with as little delay as possible.
On the 21st, after proceeding some time along the river, we arrived at Aboohamed. From having heard the name coupled with Khartoum and Korosko, as stages in our homeward journey, we expected at least to see a town. We beheld only a few houses, one half inhabited solely by rats and pigeons.
We proceeded to the Government House, and found it a room walled with mud, and roofed with loose straw. It had been cleaned out and brushed up a little for us; and had it been a little less liberal in the way of draughts, from an over-abundant supply of doors and windows, we should have taken Daireh’s advice, and slept there; it was greatly to be preferred to the dust and strong winds outside. As it was, we lived there in tolerable comfort during the day; at night left it to our servants, and retreated to our tents which were pitched outside, where we were not half so comfortable.
The water we obtained here comprised two casks, six cow-skins, four sheep-skins, and eight goat-skins, which sufficed to load seven camels. We were disappointed in finding only two fowls and sixteen eggs, in return for the nine piastres we had forwarded to this village by the camel-sheik some days before. The people, however, brought us the change. It is not in all civilized countries you could send forward one shilling and sixpence with equal success.
The hand of death had visited Aboohamed, and we were edified by the sight of five or six girls dancing round the corpse of their relative, whom they lamented with shrieks, saltatory gestures, and by heaping ashes on their heads. As the deceased had been “a great man among the camels,” our fine dromedaries were saddled, and galloped about, racing with one another—a bad preparation for a long journey.
We did all we could to persuade our men to get water-skins for themselves, offering to pay for them; but they started with only four skins for fifteen men, trusting to our humanity for a sufficient supply, which of course did not fail them.
Two donkeys were also purchased at this place, with poles to support a bed, in case of illness. As a further precaution, we had sent for a litter, or tack caravan, by the guide who went for provisions, &c., to Berber.
Additions to our party — Skeleton guides — Lost in the desert — Surefootedness of the camel — The well — A horrible story — Nubian despotism — An Arab’s revenge.
We started from Aboohamed at ten o’clock on the morning of the 22nd of January, for it was far too cold to have attempted it earlier.
We had some additions to our party. One was a man who had escaped from the jail at Fazokl—at least so said the Governor of Aboohamed; though he retracted his assertion on being presented with a dollar. There was a suspicious coincidence, however, in the knowledge the man evidently had of the state of felon society in that Botany Bay of a place, which was not to be expected from one who visited it solely for pleasure. Perhaps he was not the most desirable acquaintance we could have selected, but as he made himself extremely handy in pitching tents, we were glad to have assisted in freeing him from his bonds.
Our other acquisition was a fat sheep, that was to walk as well, if not better than a camel. I did not believe a word of this; and was not at all surprised on finding that he did not answer his warranty in the quality of pedestrianism. He was therefore transformed into mutton with as little delay as possible.
The first day our route lay over undulating plains, that were as firm and as smooth as a gravel road. There were twenty paths at least; but had we lost our way, the skeletons of the numerous camels which covered the road and tainted the air, would have shown us the right one.
Then we entered the chains of hills among which we wound, often through narrow passes, where the ground was marked by deep water-courses, and covered at this season by plants of three or four kinds, on which the camels fed with great relish.
After passing these, we came to a long tract of deep sand, where we wandered on for hours, without finding a place sufficiently firm to pitch a tent; and then entered another chain of hills, mostly of a conical shape, and very picturesquely grouped.
Here we were nearly lost; for, after watching our caravan descending the plain beneath us, and apparently entering a defile, we discovered that the distance was much greater than we thought it had been; for it took two hours’ riding before we reached the defile, when it was quite dark, and there was no signs of the caravan, which we had ordered to stop at sunset. On we wandered, in some anxiety, when suddenly one of our party happening to cast a backward glance, discovered a light. For this we immediately made, and had the gratification to find that it proceeded from our people, who had wandered out of the direct road in search of forage for their camels, which they did not find.
After this adventure, we lingered very little in the rear, and found ourselves obliged to curtail our mid-day rests.
We now entered the hilly district that crosses the line of desert, and ascended and descended passes along narrow rocky paths, better adapted to the light foot of the gazelles, than the broad and heavy tread of the camels; and it was wonderful how these large animals, with their cumbrous burthens, scrambled among the rocks, and along the edge of precipices, without the slightest hesitation.
A long descent through a narrow pass at last brought us to a circular plain, in the centre of which is the well. On approaching it, we found a large drove of camels mounted by a few wild-looking Arabs. Encamped too within the arena was a Turkish caravan, on one side, and an Arab phan with its round low tents established on the other. So we crossed the plain, and pitched our tents on the opposite side, where entirely exposed to the sun, we found the heat most oppressive.
The well consists of two large and deep holes cut in the sand, and is situated in a valley so entirely surrounded by high hills, that on arriving there it was difficult to say whence we had come, or where we could go. The water was extremely salt, and even when made into soup was scarcely drinkable.
The camels were immediately driven away, to feed in the neighbouring pastures—they were not valleys, for they were all on the level plain; out of them, however, rose the hills, often perpendicularly.
We also despatched two water-carrying camels with ten small skins to a pool of capital rain-water to be found among the rocks at about half a day’s journey, which was reported to be sweet.
Daireh told us a horrible story while we were here, which I will give in his own words.
“When Mahoh Bey, that some years ago was going to make Governess of that part of the country, wanted some camels from the head man of the road, the man could not stand what he wanted, because it was too hard what he wanted—because he would not allow his tribe to be pressed. I don’t know what you call it.
“So the Governess gave him much stick with large pole, called nabout; then he die a few days after. After the man die, this Mahoh Bey make government for some year in the country, and he died, after some year make Governor at Berber.
“When he died, his children and wife obliged to come back to Cairo, because they have no money to take care of them there. And they gather all their father’s money and property, and take the road from Aboohamed to Korosko.
“They take the son of the murdered Sheik as guide, as they found he was a capital young man; so made him great Sheik as his father was, and give him fine dress and good backsheesh to console him.
“And when the Sheik had guided the Governess wife, and children, and brought them all very well from Berber to El Murat (the well), at this place they were obliged to stop one day to water the camel and to rest.
“Then one of the camel people who was clever young man, made singing, reminding the young guide how his father had been murdered by the father of this family under his care. Then it entered into the mind of this young man, to take his father’s blood back again.
“So he guide them one day more, not in the road, but a little to the left of the pass, and he select the big son of Mohah Bey, which is quite a man, and he call him away from his mother in the middle of the night, and say to him:
“‘Come, and your father kill my father, I do the same to you, to pay for my father.’
“And the poor son try to prevent himself with as much money as he could, but he cannot, they won’t stand him. So they kill him. When they had cut his neck, they go back to his mother.
“His Bedouins which he had with him wished to kill all, so that no one know what come to the rest, but the son of the Sheik he only take one instead of his father, and then he rob all the rest, take every money they got, and all their jewels and clothes, and he give them twenty men to take care of them, and send them back again to Aboohamed, and he send message with them to the Ababdee people to ruin Aboohamed and to join him in the desert near the well, and he do the same at Korosko.
“He broke the corn magazine at that place, and take all the corn, &c., to the desert with him; and he going to the desert and make very large encampment at Aboohamed, and at the well, with very large troops, armed with guns, and spears, and shields.
“And when the wife of the Governess arrive at Berber, she let all the Government know, and the Government pay her all her losses, even more than what she lost, and sent very big troops of Armenians, and also a lot of Bedouins, who were not friends to the Ababda people, and go to them in the desert, and stop all their way from all sides of the mountains.
“And they begin to fight together very hard for one day. Twenty people of the Ababdee are killed, and sixteen people of the Government people killed, instead.
“When the Ababdee finished their powder, they pull up a very white flag and say they come to the Governor, and do whatever he wish. Then they take them all to Khartoum, and make them pay £50,000, instead of the money taken, and of the expenses of fight.
“Then the Ababdee stand it, and Ali Bey Hassib make his cousin Sheik, as unless one of the family are Sheik, the Ababdee will not keep quiet. So they keep the big Sheik at Khartoum, to answer for the behaviour of his tribe.”
So ends my tale.
This disturbance took place while we were passing Korosko in our boats on our way to Wady Halfa. Our original intention was to start from Korosko and return by Dongola and Wady Halfa, but the desert being in such an unsettled state, we thought it wiser to change our plans, though we should have run no actual risk by travelling among the people, even while in a state of rebellion, as strangers are always respected.
Extreme cold — Milanese Refugees in the desert — A camel lost — An extraordinary day — Arab merchants — Making up a small parcel — Rain in the desert — The mirage — First rate calculators — English weather — In sight of the Nile — Arrival at Korosko.
The wind was extremely cold, the thermometer in the morning falling below 55°, a difference of twenty degrees in two days. As yet we had not seen any grass in the desert.
One morning we were agreeably surprised by meeting two European gentlemen; Messrs. Trotti and Dandolo, Milanese refugees, travelling on the Nile. At Assuan they had met Mr. V——, who told them of our adventurous journey, and encouraged them to follow our example.
On finding our boats at Korosko, they soon made up their minds on the subject, and without tents, or in short any proper requisites for such a journey, they started; not satisfied with the idea of proceeding to Khartoum, their intention was to go on to the El Obeid.
They had severely felt the cold, having been without sufficient clothing. We gave them all the information that was at our disposal in the way of route, distances, time, &c., and they went on their way. They had been seven days travelling from Korosko, and rode on Bedouin saddles, without either saddle bags or mattresses. Some miles further on we met their luggage, on ten half-loaded camels.
We next passed a native caravan carrying Manchester goods, soap, sugar, and tea, and continued passing chains of mountains that had been in sight for nearly fifty miles.
The following day we met a caravan of forty-seven camels, followed by their proprietor, an Arab merchant. He informed us that some boats had started from Wady Halfa to meet us on our return from Korosko.
The sand was all day very heavy, and we proceeded in much the same course as during the preceding days. As we passed through a valley, we noticed chain after chain of blue mountains. They would have greatly resembled the Alps, if white snow could have been changed into violet-bloom. The temperature was still extremely cold.
The next morning we could not start very early. We found, to our alarm, that our guide, after wasting half the night in talking—a common amusement among the Arabs—had disappeared. He had lost a camel, and was tracking it across the desert by its footsteps, which he knew perfectly, as all Bedouins do. About eight o’clock he returned with the fugitive, and off we started.
The way was most mountainous all along, with abundance of grass, and many large doum-trees, looking sad and desolate in the middle of the beds of different torrents that have long been dry, and which scarcely ever contain water, except during a few weeks in July and August.
There was much herbage in the vales we passed through this day; but no more was seen afterwards, nor any living creature, except occasionally a sand-coloured bird.
Only one long valley was bordered by fine mimosa trees. How they flourished in such a desert it is scarcely possible to imagine.
The sky was very cloudy and lowering, and the aneroid barometer suddenly fell half an inch.
The following was the most extraordinary day we had had from the commencement of the journey. The wind changed from north to south, and the sky was so clouded that we did not see the sun nearly all day; yet the thermometer stood at 92°. The air felt like the atmosphere during a West India hurricane, and was scarcely endurable. Nevertheless, we travelled the usual time, though every one felt exceedingly tired.
In the morning, we met our camels that had been sent in search of rain-water, and were much gratified to find that this proved as good as it had been reported. This timely supply lasted till we reached Korosko.
Near the camp we saw a hole in a rock, through which every merchant, not too stout, contrives to creep; indeed, there is sometimes a good deal of wriggling amongst some of them, as they strive to make themselves up in as small a parcel as possible, and work their way, snake-like, through the aperture. It is considered to have a lucky effect on their Manchester goods.
After descending a succession of reddish hills, broken by rocks of bright pink quartz, jutting out some yards high, we crossed a chain of precipitous hills into a long, narrow, flat plain of sand, along which ran a line of doum palms, some flourishing, many dead—a truly African scene.
Crossing this, we passed through, as though it had been a door, a break in a straight line of blue slate rocks, that ran parallel with the opposite line of hills—occasional hills rising from the plains—the rocks often very grotesque in form.
An hour or two after sunset, we had a few drops of rain—a thing quite unheard-of at this season. We afterwards were told that the same phenomenon visited Assuan.
The mirage was very frequently distinct, and one day we were watching it changing the bare plain into a lake, in which we beheld the trees reflected; as we were gazing we noticed a camel quickly disappearing along its borders. An Arab soon after ran across the plain in pursuit.
Not having seen a living thing for a day or two, our curiosity was very much excited as to the fate of the Arab, and we were glad when we overtook him. Seeing our party, be waited our approach, wanting the assistance of one of our men to recover his camel, which had made its escape whilst he dismounted to rest and eat.
In passing through some deep sand, we observed a place where the government had been trying to find water. They met with the success that might have been expected from such a locality.
The following day our road was “the river”—so called by the Bedouins from its resemblance to a stream rolling along through narrow valleys and high hills, and always on the descent.
A man came to us to ask for water. He was tracking three camels that had been from Aboohamed almost to Korosko on their own account. He had no doubt been mounted, but fearing lest we might force him, à la Turque, to lend us his camel, he had left it carefully concealed out of sight.
We noticed several ostrich traces on the sand, the first we had seen. The weather was a repetition of yesterday—extremely close and cloudy, with the thermometer at 92°. During the evening we had drops of rain several times.
On our way, we passed “the door of the road,” a narrow pass where Bedouins used to levy backsheesh, some years ago, on all passers.
Another day we hoped would be our last before reaching Korosko; but our hopes proved fallacious. Our provisions have just lasted; our biscuit, rice, and maccaroni would have ended, or, as Abbas called it, died, to-morrow or the day after, and with our last dinner ended our last vegetables. There is no doubt that our servants are first-rate calculators—as to our taste in certain provisions, and our consumption in a certain time. The last day in the desert was by far the most uncomfortable of all. Our camels having been ten days without food, were very tired, and had to be most disagreeably dragged along.
The weather was cloudy, misty, windy, and cold—quite an English March. It rained two or three times—a few drops only—and we did not even see the sun till after lunch time. We pushed on, travelling ten hours in hopes of finishing, but were disappointed, the river seeming to recede as we advanced.
Towards noon of the eleventh day of our journey, the Nile, a most welcome sight, came suddenly into view on emerging from a ravine, and we perceived the low masts of our boats against the bank. I rode on in advance, and arrived at the diabeheeh some minutes before the rest of the party. The crew rushed on me as soon as I came in sight, embraced me—some even kissed me—so great was their satisfaction to behold me once more amongst them.
“Cavaghi, mafisch,” said they. When I answered, “Mafisch!” they burst into tears.
They then hurried towards the rest of our party: first embraced our dragoman, who slipped off his camel on their approach, and then welcomed all. Quietly and respectfully they conducted the ladies on board, and then the most known of the crew, approached to kiss their hands.
They showed how neatly the cabins had been prepared, and that all our things that had been left in their care were perfectly safe.
Shortly afterwards we were together again in our homely cabin, thankful beyond measure that we had been permitted to proceed so far on our return without accident or hindrance, and anticipating the gratification of finding ourselves still nearer the home to which our thoughts had lately become more and more anxiously directed.