CAFE _à la_ BWANA TUMBO
From the Wady Halfa bean
Wine
SAMIAN FIZZ
Music
By the "FLOWER BUDS OF CAIRO"
Decorations
By the BEGUM MACCUDDYLEEKI, period of Akbar the Great
The De Cossons lived in the suburbs, about two miles out on the road to
the Pyramids, in a detached place without a street or a number, and
quite hard to find when the sun had set. My hostess had prepared an
elaborate map in two colors, red and blue, showing where I was to go
and what I was to do and say after crossing the great steel bridge that
spans the Nile. Armed with this formidable document, I went to the
noble bandit who controls the carriage service in front of Shepheard's,
and in a confidential whisper explained the map and the circumstances
to him, at the same time slipping into his extended, yawning paw a wad
of _bakshish_. I stipulated that I must have a driver who understood
at least some English. He made a great show of grasping the
intricacies of the map and the instructions that went with it, and
presently, with a wild gleam in his eye, as if he had found a sure way
to his "graft," he announced that he was ready and willing to take all
responsibility. He had an official, high-backed chair on the sidewalk
and asked me to use it till he returned. Then darting into the
darkness, he quickly found a man (who looked like the First Murderer in
_Macbeth_) on whom he could depend to rob me and divide the spoils with
him. Dressed in his flowing oriental robes as Cairo's most abandoned
criminal, he shook me warmly by the hand and whispered, as I stepped
into the carriage:
"I have arranged everything."
I had a sufficient glimmering of what was going on to meekly pipe to
him:
"Yes, I haven't the slightest doubt of it."
We started out at a brisk pace which soon relaxed into a funereal jog,
and went on and on through narrow, squalid streets till we reached the
Nile. Although I had given myself an extra hour for emergencies, I
became impatient and asked him:
"But where is the big bridge with the bronze sphinxes on it that we are
to cross?" He sadly wailed in reply:
"Ah, sahib, it ees so hard to find eet in the dark!"
In a burst of sarcastic anger, I shouted at him:
"Well, get off and light a match, and maybe you'll hit it by accident!"
Assuming with an innocent look that I had spoken seriously, he took me
at my word, jumped off his perch, lit a match and peered all round him.
Then I got "real" angry, and told him De Cosson Bey kept a professional
torture chamber, and that I would have him ground to sausage meat if he
trifled with me another moment. Well knowing the impotence of my "hot
air" blast, he simply smiled and took up his burthen of "finding" the
bridge. This he soon accomplished, as it was about as easy to find as
a saloon in the "Great White Way." The instructions accompanying the
map stated that the Maison Antonion was on the left of the Pyramid Road
after three crossroads had been passed. I began to look out for and
count the roads, so when we had crossed two and were approaching a
third I halted the Jehu and said:
"This is the third road; turn down here."
"No, sahib, eet is de private entrance to Hunter Pasha's palace, an' he
keep de mos' wicket dogs you ever see in awl yo' life."
So on we went till I began to realize that the kidnapper was trying to
take me out to the Pyramids for a late dinner with the Sphinx. It was
clear moonlight and I saw an English lady walking along the road. I
tried to have the driver stop, but he pretended that he did not
understand me, so I jumped out and, profusely apologizing to the lady,
explained my emergency. She said:
"Why, you are a mile past De Cosson Bey's place: there it is with the
flagstaff on the tower."
Then she had a heart-to-heart talk in Arabic with my friend and we
returned briskly to the "third road." I halted the procession for a
settlement about fifty yards from the house, well knowing that trouble
was coming in pyramids, and feeling that I did not wish to assault the
ears of my hosts with the clash which was now inevitable and which
would undoubtedly contain a large percentage of language that could
hardly be called diplomatic. He demanded about ten times the regular
fare. I protested, but he explained that after sunset all fares were
double and charged by the hour, at that; and that when the Nile had
been crossed the driver had the privilege of fixing the fare according
to the circumstances. This vested right, he claimed, had not been
disputed since his ancestors had driven Napoleon out to the battle of
the Pyramids a century ago. I could not deny his statement as I had
not been among those present, but I reduced the settlement to a
compromise by threatening to spring on him the Hessian troops that De
Cosson Bey retained for such occasions. Then we drove up to the house
as genially as if we had been long parted relatives, and I supposed we
held the secrets of the passage of arms between ourselves. But I was
mistaken, for I noticed at dinner that my hosts smiled knowingly at
each other as if they had some amusing thought in common. When I could
stand this no longer I asked what they were laughing at.
"Why, at your stopping so near the house for the usual stormy, cab-fare
settlement. Wise visitors always settle out on the Pyramid Road, so
they may regain their composure before alighting. We threw up the
windows and heard every word of the picturesque, verbal duel, and we
came to the conclusion when the flag fell that the oriental had had his
hands full throughout the entire entertainment."
[Illustration: ANOTHER PART OF KARNAK; ONLY ONE MAN ON THE JOB, BUT HE
IS QUITE EQUAL TO ALL ITS REQUIREMENTS AND EMERGENCIES]
I left next day by train for Alexandria, and I remember it was
thirty-five years ago that I started from that city for Port Said,
whence I took a steamer for India, passing through the Suez Canal, then
not long opened. Time flies, but the canal is still there, at the old
stand, doing a steady business with all the nations of the earth that
go down to the sea in great ships as daily customers. F. J. Haskin has
written an interesting and graphic description of this great work,
recently published in the New York _Globe_, in which he says:
"On the great breakwater at Port Said stands the bronze statue of
Ferdinand de Lesseps, his right hand extended in a gesture of
invitation to the mariners of all nations to take their ships through
the great canal which was the fruit of his genius and diplomacy. Not
one word is there to indicate that his fortune and good name lie buried
in the failure of another canal, half way round the world.
"The romance of the Suez Canal is suggested by everything the visitor
sees at Port Said, the 'turnstile of the nations.' But the tragedy of
the canal, the terrible cost of life, the shameful waste of money, the
enslavement of the Egyptians in governmental and financial bondage, the
wreck of French hopes and aspirations--not one hint of all that tragedy
is discernible. Ferdinand de Lesseps, Ismail Pasha and the Egyptian
people gave civilization and commerce one of its greatest gifts in the
Suez Canal, but the cost to them was all they had--and they were never
repaid.
"Every day in the year a dozen great ships make the procession through
the canal--the ninety miles of slow travelling which saves them the
cost of circumnavigating the great continent of Africa. They pay well
for it, and the owners of the canal shares wax fat. England controls
the canal, the construction of which John Bull attempted in every
manner to prevent. English ships bound from "home" to Bombay cut down
the distance from 10,860 miles to 4,620 miles by taking the canal
route, and the vast majority of ships which pay tolls to the canal
company fly the British flag. Germany comes second, a long way after;
Holland third, and the French, whose dreams of commercial empire cut
the ditch, are fourth. The United States has not been represented in
the canal in a decade by any commercial ship--only vessels of the navy
and yachts of the Yankee millionaires show the Stars and Stripes to the
Bedouins of the desert who bring their caravans from Mt. Sinai to the
canal."