"Yet more! the billows and the depths have more!
High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast
They hear not now the booming waters roar,
The battle thunders will not break their rest."
PORT SAID.--THE SUEZ CANAL.--VOYAGE DOWN THE
RED SEA.--ADEN.
The voyage from Malta to Port Said was accomplished without any notable
event, except that the heat goes on steadily increasing.
August 31st, to-day, we made the low-lying land in the neighbourhood of
Port Said, and by noon had arrived and moored off that uninteresting
town. Coaling at Port Said is effected with great rapidity, for ships
have to be speedily pushed on through the Canal to prevent a block,
thus, by the following afternoon, we commenced our first stage of the
Canal passage, under the escort of one of the Company's steam tugs, for
ships of our size may not use their own engines for fear of the "wash"
abrading the sandy banks.
The character of the scenery soon changes, and we seem to have an
intuitive perception that we are in the land of the Pharaohs. On the
one side, far as the eye can reach, and for hundreds of miles beyond, a
desert of glistening sand is spread before us, for the most part level
and unbroken, but occasionally interrupted by billow-like undulations,
resembling the ground swell at sea. Here and there a salt pond breaks
the monotonous ochre of the sand. These ponds are, in the majority of
cases, quite dry, and encrusted with a beautiful crystalline whiteness
resembling snow, making even the desert look interesting. On the
Egyptian side, a series of gem-studded lagoons stretch away to the haze
of an indistinct horizon, the mirage reproducing the green and gold of
the thousand isles in the highly heated atmosphere.
By 6 p.m. we had reached the first station, or "Gare," when we brought
up alongside a jetty for the night. When darkness had set in, the wild
melancholy howl of the jackal was borne across the desert by the evening
breeze, a sound sufficiently startling and inexplicable if you don't
happen to know its origin. What these animals can find to eat in a
parching desert is, and remains to me, a mystery.
On pushing on the following morning, a quail and several locusts flew on
board; interesting because we are now in the region of Scripture natural
history. As I was desirous of procuring a specimen of the Scriptural
locust, I expressed a wish to that effect, and soon had more of them
than I knew what to do with, till, in fact, I thought the Egyptian
plague was about to be exemplified. I will here take occasion to thank
my shipmates for their kindly and ready assistance, in helping me to
furnish a cabinet with natural history specimens. Nothing living, coming
within their reach, has ever escaped them; birds, insects, fish,
reptiles, all have been laid as trophies before me to undergo that
metamorphosis known as "bottling." I verily believe that had an elephant
insinuated himself across their path, he would have found his way into
my "preserves."
This was an extremely quiet day, everybody indulging a siesta under
double and curtained awnings, until about 5 p.m., when bump! a dead
stop, and a list to port. We are aground. But grounding on such a soft
bed is not a serious affair, and by extra exertions on the part of
"Robert," our tug, and a turn or two of our own screws, we were soon in
deep water again. This was but the initiation ceremony; ere the
termination of our commission we were destined to become passed masters
in the art of bumping, as the sequel will show.
At this juncture the Canal ceases to be such, as it enters that natural
watercourse--the Bitter Lakes. Herein, we are at perfect liberty to use
our own engines, whereby we are speedily across their glassy surface,
and entering on to the last portion of the passage. On rounding a point
on the opposite side, a scene, truly Biblical, met our view--two Arab
maidens tending their flocks. Perhaps they had taken advantage of the
absence of man to uncover their faces; if so, they were speedily careful
to rectify the error, on catching sight of such terrible beings as
bluejackets; but not before we had caught a glimpse at a rather pleasing
face, with small, straight nose, rosy lips, splendid teeth, the blackest
of eyes, and the brownest of skin. The veils, which serve to hide their
prettiness, are real works of art, composed of gold and silver coins,
beads and shells, tastefully and geometrically arranged on a groundwork
of black lace. After repeated hand kissing from our amorous tars--an
action whose significance is apparently lost on these damsels--we bid
good bye to the "nut-brown maids," and at 5 p.m., on September 4th,
enter the broad waters of the Gulf of Suez.
The great feature of the town of Suez is its donkeys; wonderfully
knowing creatures, who, with their masters, look upon every visitor, as
in duty bound, to engage their services. To say them nay, and to suggest
that your legs are quite capable of bearing you to the town, is only
provocative of an incredulous smile, or a negative shake of the head.
Never was seen such patience and importunity as that displayed by boy
and beast. The most striking thing about them is their names--shared in
common--which furnish one with a running commentary on current events in
Europe. For example, there were the "Prince of Wales" and "Roger
Tichborne," "Mrs. Besant" and the "Fruits of Philosophy"! The "mokes"
are so well trained--or is it that they have traversed the same ground
so often? that, in spite of all tugging at the reins, and the
administration of thundering applications of your heel in the abdominal
region, they will insist upon conducting you to a locality well
understood, but of no very pronounced respectability. I did hear--but
this between you and I--that a rather too confiding naval chaplain, on
one occasion, trusted himself to the guidance of one of these perfidious
beasts, and even the sanctity of his cloth, could not save him from the
same fate.
September 7th. We may now be said to have entered upon the saddest and
most unpleasant part of the voyage, that of the Red Sea passage.
The day after sailing, the look-out from the mast head reported a vessel
aground off the starboard bow, with a second vessel close by, and,
seemingly, in a similar predicament. Our thoughts at once adverted to
the two troopships which left last night, so we hurried on, and,
arriving at the spot, found we had surmised correctly. One only, the
steamer, was aground; her consort, the sailing ship, being at anchor a
safe distance off. We lost no time in sending hawsers on board, but it
was not until the third day that we were successful in our efforts to
haul her off.
Our voyage resumed, we had scarcely got out of sight of the two ships,
when the sudden cry of "man overboard!" was heard above the din of
flapping canvas and creaking blocks. To stop the engines, gather in the
upper sails, let fly sheets, and back the main yard, was the work of
seconds; and before the ship was well around--smart as she was on her
heel, too--the life-boat was half-way on her errand of mercy. Young
Moxey was soon amongst us again, none the worse for his involuntary
immersion, although his bath was more than an ordinary risky one, owing
to the proximity of sharks.
From that exalted observatory, the mast head, we noticed the red colour
from which the sea derives its name. The surface has not a general ruddy
tinge, as we most of us thought it had,--only here and there blood-red
patches appear, mottling the vivid blue surface.
September 11th.--My "journal" is a blank for three whole days, owing to
the intense heat, which is simply unbearable. I can only give our
friends a faint idea of what it was like, by asking them to imagine
themselves strapped down over a heated oven whilst somebody has built a
fire on top of them, to ensure a judicious "browning" on both sides
alike. Sleep is out of the question, "prickly heat" is careful of that.
As may be supposed, the sufferings of the deck hands--bad enough as in
all conscience it was--were not to be compared with the tortures endured
by the poor fellows in the stoke-hole, who had to be hoisted up in
buckets that they might gasp in the scarcely less hot air on deck. From
bad, this state of things came to worse--men succumbed to its influence,
the sick list swelled, and, finally, death stalked insidiously in our
midst.
September 13th.--The first victim was John Bayley, a marine, who died
to-day after an illness of only a few short hours. One curious thing
about this sickness is that those attacked by it exhibit, more or less,
symptoms of madness. One of my own messmates, for instance, whose life
was preserved by a miracle, almost went entirely out of his mind. I will
not dwell too long upon these sufferings, nor rekindle the harrowing
scenes in your minds.
At sunset on the 14th the bell tolled for a funeral, as, with
half-masted flag, and officers and men assembled, we prepared to do the
last that ever poor Bayley would require from man. Funerals are solemn
things at any time, but a funeral at sea is more than this--it is
impressive and awe-inspiring, especially if there be others so near
death's door that one does not know whose turn it may be next. Decently
and in order the hammock-clad form is brought to the gangway, whilst the
chaplain's voice, clear and distinct--more distinct than ordinary it
seems--reads the beautiful service for the Church of England's dead. A
hollow plunge, a few eddying circles, at the words--"we commit his body
to the deep"--and he is gone for ever.
Almost simultaneously with departure of one, another of our shipmates,
Mr. Easton, the gunner, died.
Providentially for all of us, a squall of wind struck us at this point
of our voyage--a squall of such violence, whilst it lasted, that the air
was thoroughly purged of its baneful qualities, and restored again to
its elasticity.
But what a God-send it was! The iron hull of our ship, always
unpleasantly hot in these latitudes, was rapidly cooled by the deluge of
rain which came with the wind. Renewed life and vigour entered into our
emaciated frames, and revivified men marked for death; and was it not
delicious to rush about naked in the puddles of rain on the upper deck!
Well, all things mundane have an end, even the most unpleasant--though
it must be confessed their finality is generally lingering. Thus our
desolate voyage through that seething cauldron, known to geographers and
schoolboys as the Red Sea, at length approached its termination.
Our grim shipmate, death, did not go over the side till he had marked
yet another victim for his insatiate grasp; for, to-day, Mr. Scoble, one
of our engineers, died. He, too, was buried at sea, though we were only
a few hours from port. On the morn of this day, September 17th, we
passed the strait of Bab-el-mandeb--Arabic for "Gate of Tears"--an
extremely appropriate name, too, I should think.
Aden, which we reached the same evening, has a very bleak and barren
appearance, and is, seemingly, nothing better than a volcanic rock. Its
apparent sterility does not, as a matter of fact, exist; for it produces
an abundance of vegetables of all kinds, splendid corn with stalks above
the ordinary height, fruits, roses, and other delightful and
highly-scented flowers, in rank abundance. There is something thriving
and go-a-head about the place, in spite of unkindly nature. It has one
terrible drawback, for rain falls only at intervals of years, sometimes
taking a holiday for three or even more years. The people are busy and
bustling--troops of camels, donkeys, and ostriches continually stream in
and out the town, testifying to an extensive trade with the neighbouring
states. A peculiar race of people is found here, the Soumali--tall,
gaunt-looking fellows, with a mass of moppy hair dyed a brilliant red.
This head-gear, surmounting a small black face, is laughable in the
extreme. Plenty of ostrich feathers may be obtained of the Arabian Jews;
and though, of course, you pay sailors' prices for them, yet even then
the sums given are not nearly so much as would be charged in England for
a far inferior feather.
On the eve of departure we were visited by a novel shower, composed of
sand and locusts, from the African desert. These things, unpleasant as
they seem to us, are, we are told, of as common occurrence here as rain
showers at home.