_The Jordan and the Dead Sea_
After visiting all the places in Jerusalem that were of interest to us,
we set out in carriages for a long and tiresome drive to Jericho and its
environs. We passed Gethsemane and went over the Mount of Olives to
Bethany. The Mount of Olives is four thousand feet above sea level, and
consequently has a perfect climate even in hot weather. From it we saw
the plain of the Jordan and the mountains of Moab in the distance--truly
a magnificent panorama. After awhile we reached the "Good Samaritan" Inn
and had some rest and refreshments there. An old Bedouin, tall, spare,
and with a fine, military bearing, had a lot of old flint-lock guns for
sale at the inn, but his historical knowledge and dates were decidedly
mixed. He didn't care anything about facts or the truth if he could only
sell a gun to a credulous customer. To give verisimilitude to his
statements, he said he had fought at Waterloo on the English side and had
killed Napoleon with one of these guns--he did not know which, but the
buyer could have his choice. As this was the grandest and most daring
lie I had ever heard, I gave him an American quarter, for which he was
very grateful, as he needed the money.
[Illustration: THE DEAD SEA WITH THE LONE FISHERMAN IN FRONT. HE HAS
JUST HEARD THAT THE FISH ARE NOT BITING AND IS SOMEWHAT DEPRESSED IN
CONSEQUENCE]
We went down through wild mountain gorges to the plain below. In former
times the Bedouins who infest these mountains robbed the visitors and
were a menace to travel, so it became the custom to "settle" with the
chiefs for "protection" (from themselves) before starting. The
management paid up for us and we were duly protected. In none of Gilbert
and Sullivan's comic operas can any incident be found that is more
delicious in its comicality and topsy-turvyism than was our experience
with these bandit chiefs. They were mounted on small, nimble horses
which had all the sure-footedness and agility of the chamois, and sprang
from rock to rock with surprising certainty. The rider chief was armed
to the teeth: he had a long rifle, that had not been fired since the last
siege of Jerusalem slung across his back, round his body were courses of
daggers, pistols and dirks--awfully bloodthirsty-looking things, don't
you know; then he wore a magnificent, three-story turban, topped off with
a big bunch of dyed green alfalfa; the _tout ensemble_ was completed by a
dark red, flowing robe which swept behind him in the wind like the wings
of an angel of death. This great man would bow to us ceremoniously,
place his hand on his heart, put spurs to his horse and dash to the top
of the nearest hill; then, shading his eyes, he would scan the horizon
with careful scrutiny. Now with leaps and bounds he would descend again,
and planting himself before us in the road, would announce that there
were no robbers in sight, or that his appearance had frightened them off,
and then shout at the top of his voice,
"BAKSHISH! BAKSHISH!!"
although he had been already paid. There were four of them guarding us,
and at the end they lined up across the road with the idea that we would
have to settle, but we brushed through them, pushing some of them on
their backs, so their bluff was "called."
Rooms were scarce at the Jordan hotels, and the drivers of the light
carriages were anxious to get there ahead of one another in order to
secure the first choice for their fares; so a general edging up took
place which resulted finally in a steeplechase across the fields, in
which several were thrown out. Our carriage led for the last mile, but
was passed by two others at the finish, thus giving us third place and
single rooms as our reward.
My apartment was a whitewashed cell, without ventilation, but it was
"mine own" and I was happy. The mirror was hung so high that I had to
make a pyramid of three boxes on which to stand while shaving. They were
quite rickety, and I was between the Scylla of cutting my throat with the
razor and the Charybdis of breaking my bones by a fall on the floor.
Neither happened, however.
[Illustration: RIVER JORDAN, WHERE WE CROSSED ON A FERRY-BOAT; THE ONLY
REASON FOR DOING IT WAS TO TRY A VOYAGE WITHOUT STEWARDS' FEES]
We went in to dinner. The hotel put up a fine showing of red napkins,
plated cruet stands (with nothing in the bottles), bundles of toothpicks,
last week's bread, bright green pickles (that had been dropped into some
kind of pungent, commercial acid which would have made excellent rat
poison); paper napkins with Corot landscapes printed on them; and plenty
of gingersnaps and lady fingers, pretty thoroughly flyblown; the whole
supplemented with sheaves of wild flowers cut in the fields with a
scythe. It all looked grand and imposing for the money, but somehow
lacked the substantial body (as well as fragrance) of beefsteak and
onions. The _pièce de resistance_ however, really consisted of stewed
kid and roast goat. I could not stomach either, so I went out and bought
three fresh eggs from a native who kept hens, had them boiled four
minutes and was the envy of the entire crowd ever after.
There was a large courtyard, and a big, dark, Byronic-looking dragoman
came round and proposed a barbaric dance to our people. Ali Cocash was
his name, and he described this dance as an imitation of a fierce and
bloody orgy, such as the Bedouins indulge in after a great victory. They
were to shout, grunt and brandish their guns, dirks, pistols and swords,
and to behave generally in a very disreputable manner; in fact, Ali
gravely intimated that it would be no place for timid ladies. This
simply whetted our appetites and we promptly closed with him for the
dance for a certain amount of "teep." The hat was passed and the tips
put in. Then a row of about twenty-five as hangdog-looking Bedouins as
were ever strung up in the Valley of Jehoshaphat began a kind of mewling
cry, such as a rat would make in a trap. This did not satisfy us and we
went for Cocash; we wanted "blood!" or at least an imitation of crime and
deviltry. Ali consulted with the Bedouins and came back with a smiling
solution of our difficulty. He said,
"My men have had a hard day's work and are tired and not able to do
themselves justice, but if you give them more 'teep,' they will give you
a good show and you will see something, sure."
Again the hat was passed, and the sons of the desert, after some rest,
began anew. This time they brought torches with them, and they did make
an abominable lot of noise and flung their armory about in a really
reckless fashion. One of them dropped a burning torch on his neighbor
and set fire to his clothes; this led to a fight which soon became
general, and they began to bang one another right and left with anything
that came to hand. Blood was flowing freely and the dragoman was in
despair. He rushed into a stable and came out with a wooden pitchfork
with which he drove them back, and restored order once more.
Two accomplished young ladies from the _Cork_ then gave us a skirt dance,
which happily closed a very exciting day. I went to bed in my cell. It
was a fine, moonlight night, and a three-cornered contest soon started
between donkeys braying, jackals howling and dogs barking; but we were
very tired, and they made no more impression on us than would Raff's
_Cavatina_ played on the violin with a mute.
We were up early next morning and off for the Jordan and the Dead Sea.
We stopped to look at and drink of Elisha's Fountain, a fine, copious
spring forming a large stream. Near it I talked with several German
officers who were making excavations for some German savants. They had
got down to where the old buildings had been, and were pleased with their
prospects. They were nice fellows, and very hospitable--strangers in a
strange land usually are.
Next we came to Gilgal, and then to the Jordan. I crossed it in a canoe
for sixpence--not that I had any business on the other side, but just to
say that I did it, and to make some kind of a voyage for once without
tips to the stewards on the passage. The river is about one hundred and
thirty-seven miles long and falls three thousand feet on its way to the
Dead Sea. They do a large bottling business at places on the banks,
where the natives bottle the water and sell it to visitors for baptismal
purposes all over the world.
Lower down is the Dead Sea; it is forty-seven miles long, nine miles
wide, and thirteen hundred feet deep. Its surface is thirteen hundred
feet below sea level; this and the shelter of the hills makes the country
very hot in this valley. The Dead Sea water contains five times as much
salt as the ocean. Six and a half million tons of water flow into it
from the Jordan daily, which amount is evaporated, as the sea has no
outlet. No living thing can exist in it, and the bathers who try to swim
rise to the surface like corks.
We returned to Jerusalem the way we had come, meeting a train of eighty
camels on the way, which some one called the "oriental express." After
staying a couple of days at Jerusalem, we returned to the _Cork_, which
was waiting for us at Joppa. The natives had not "moved" Simon the
tanner's house again and we saw it once more.
We sailed for Alexandria and reached it next day. Alexandria is now a
big, modern town and has a great history behind it, too long for any
repetition here. Not long ago, before "Charley" Beresford, the popular
Irish admiral, had gained his title, he commanded the _Condor_ at the
siege of this city, and before the Turks knew it he had stolen under
their forts and they could not point their "graft"-made guns down on him.
Through this advantage he "batted out" a famous victory and the Turks
surrendered in short order. After he had completed the _coup_, his
admiral signaled the now famous words, "Well done, _Condor_!" which rival
the Duke's, "Up, Guards, and at them!" of Waterloo memory. He is to-day
almost as well known and as great a favorite in America as he is in
London.
We took the train and arrived at Cairo in four hours.