HARASSED BY OUR GUIDES
We never could ascertain whether the Tamimi had come or not, so on
February 18, having given up all hope of joining them and changed ten
camels, we set out, but not before nine o'clock.
After Sa'ah the Wadi Adim becomes narrow, stony, and uninteresting, and
our way lay for a good part along a stony river bed, gradually mounting,
but almost imperceptibly. For several days we pursued the course of this
valley, and had we known what would befall us as we approached the head
of the Wadi Adim, I think nothing would have induced us to take this
route. It appears that a very wicked branch of the Hamoumi tribe hold a
portion of this valley, and determined that their enemies, the Jabberi,
who stole their cattle and plundered their caravans, should not have the
exclusive patronage of the lucrative English travellers on their way to
the coast. To our surprise at twelve o'clock we stopped at a well, Bir al
Ghuz, when our men began to unload the camels. They said they were only
just waiting for the Hamoumi siyara to come up, and that they had already
arrived at Sa'ah.
The Hamoumi are a small, poor tribe of Bedouin, who occupy the lower end
of Wadi Adim. They hire out camels to caravans, and do a great deal of
the carrying business. Their villages consist of miserable little hovels
gathered round forts, placed at intervals down the valleys, so that they
can see from one to another. They have many flocks and herds, for there
is actually pasturage for them, and many of the shepherds live in caves,
there being plenty in the sides of the valley, which are composed of
pudding-stone; they wall up the front.
We considered that, as Talib-bin-Abdullah, the chief of the Jabberi and
so notorious a robber, was our Mokadam, we had better keep friends with
him, therefore we spoke him fair. He and his companions came and wrote
their names after a list of stages, and made a most solemn oath they
would do anything we liked; and after we had sat for an hour or more in
the sun, waiting for the Hamoumi, they said we must pass the night at Bir
al Ghuz, still swearing to the seven days.
We therefore encamped, and very soon the Jabberi came and asked my
husband for a sheep, but he said he would not give one now, but later in
the journey he would do so if he found we were getting on well; so they
went away, but soon came back for twenty-seven dollars, as _siyar_ to the
Hamoumi. My husband said he had agreed for twenty-five, but they said
they had spent two dollars on a messenger to fetch the Hamoumi. The
Jabberi were by way of having 110 dollars for their _siyar_, forty first
and the rest at Sheher. They would not move next morning (the 20th)
without the whole of the money, so they had to be given that and the
twenty-seven dollars for the Hamoumi. Besides this they always demanded
their camel-hire every evening.
They next said the way was very dangerous, and we must take men from five
other tribes (though we could not imagine how so many could be
accommodated in that wilderness), and pay twenty dollars. As my husband
refused, and asked them to reflect upon the consequences of their
conduct, the soldiers came and now said they recommended him to pay and
recover the money at Sheher; otherwise they, the soldiers, said they
would give up their weapons to the Jabberi as a pledge that they would
pay forty dollars at Sheher. We said they might, but Talib told us that
if we did not pay they would give the Hamoumi their money and all go back
themselves. We then summoned Imam Sharif and had another council of
three.
The servants, meanwhile, used often to be leaning in at the tent door,
scanning our faces and begging us to do anything the Jabberi wanted, and
moaning that we should never see the ocean any more.
The Jabberi had gone away, as my husband said he must think over this; so
we consulted together. We at first quite decided to return to Al Koton,
and try to reach the coast by Wadi al Ain and, if we could not have the
camels, to load our own three animals with necessaries and money, leaving
all else behind, and perhaps to slip by Siwoun in the night. So Talib was
recalled, and told that we would go back; that we were now convinced of
the dangers of this road, as we saw he was afraid himself, and as he had
told us of two places where murders were always committed. But afterwards
we thought it wiser to consent to pay the extra thirty dollars (in all
fifty-seven) as _siyar_ to the Hamoumi, all the tribes mentioned being
varieties of Hamoumi. The money was to be placed on the Koran and taken
thence by Talib, with an oath that, if the sultan of Sheher thought it
unnecessary, it should be refunded. Seid-bin-Iselem and three soldiers
witnessed this, but Talib would not allow the Hamoumi to be present.
Instead of taking Talib's gun as a deposit, the soldiers were to keep the
money in their hands. We were still to be at Sheher within the seven
days, and not now to wait two or three days for the five tribes.
Though we did unpack a Koran and make Talib-bin-Abdullah swear on it, we
did not then understand that merely swearing on the binding is nothing.
The Koran must be opened, and some places are better than others. Oaths
by the life of a son, or to divorce a favourite wife, are really good. We
being, as I say, ignorant, the oaths were broken.
My husband and I now felt quite conquered; and it must be admitted we had
reason.
We had a horrible evening of dust-storms and hurricanes, and were
dreadfully afraid of the tent being blown down. In the morning we packed,
and the baggage was taken out to be tied in bundles, when Talib demanded
the eleven dollars camel-hire for the day before. In vain was he told
that all was packed, and he should have them at the next stage. No! he
would not go away without his money; so at great inconvenience we had to
pay on the nail.
We had not gone an hour before we stopped, unloaded, and changed our
camels for Hamoumi camels. 'Now all is peace,' said Talib-bin-Abdullah,
and in the same breath asked for two dollars for two extra camels, that
we had had before we reached Sa'ah. My husband refused, but when we
reached our stage Talib asked for that day's pay, and would not take it
without the two dollars. Of course my husband refused again, saying we
were not responsible for those two camels; that Talib had contracted to
take us and our baggage, and that now we had twenty-two camels instead of
the fifteen with which we arrived at Al Koton. Equally, of course, he
knew he must pay, and did.
We settled ourselves under some thorny trees at Bir bin Aboudan, where
there are two wells with good water. It is larger than most Hamoumi
villages, and has palm-trees and many large b'dom-trees.
Besides the Hamoumi, Jabberi, and Yafei, there are many small subsidiary
tribes, or rather families, forming little independent communities of
their own, in this region.
To continue the life of Talib-bin-Abdullah. As soon as he had received
the last-mentioned money, he and his companions and the Hamoumi had a
great and loud quarrel. Our money, being so bulky, was in bags scattered
about among all the baggage, but we always had one store-bag in my box,
and my husband had some for current expenses. The camel-men thought all
the money was in a certain bag that was solemnly carried into the tent
every night. While they shouted we filled the bag with a certain amount
of dollars, meant to represent our entire fortune, and placed it on the
table. We had become great hypocrites, but now we both decided that sweet
words were of no avail. Whenever Imam Sharif was sent for, the servants
crowded round, scanning our faces, and in despair themselves, saying 'our
lives are sacrificed,' and making great lamentations about their wives
and families.
It was very hard sometimes to keep our voices and countenances cheerful
while holding counsel with Imam Sharif as to how we ought to act, for
sometimes it is right to haggle over fourpence and sometimes it is right
to pay through the nose. It is difficult, indeed, when you are cudgelling
your brains, not to knit your brows, even if you only wish to decide if
you will take your umbrella or not.
Talib had not been absent from us an hour when he again arrived, saying
he wanted four dollars to pay a debt he owed in Bir bin Aboudan; 'it was
to come out of the thirty dollars still owing for the _siyara_, and to be
paid at Sheher,' he said. He was, of course, told that the money for the
_siyara_ had been fully paid up, seventy dollars before the sultan of
Shibahm, and forty at Sa'ah. Talib bawled a good deal, and my husband
pointed to the money-bag and said, 'If you want all my money, take it;
but call it by no other name than robbery. Take all at once instead of
bothering me perpetually, and I will settle with you at Sheher.'
When they heard this they were frightened, and went away, saying 'Oh! No!
No! We do not want that.' They were soon back, and said they wanted four
dollars on their food money (four annas a day), 'but not at all unless we
wished.' They then acknowledged, before the soldiers, that the _siyar_
was fully paid up, and that Talib had made a mistake about those two
dollars that he had obtained for the camels. In the meantime we had been
planning to get our most urgently needed things ready to load on the
horses and to walk to Sheher, only sixty-five miles--but such miles!
However, we knew our enemies had the advantage of knowing the way and the
water-places, which we did not, and could climb like monkeys over places
where we could not take horses.
I am sure we should never have found the way over such mountains, where
camels sat down and slid, and we did much the same, sometimes quite
involuntarily.
Saleh at this time seemed disposed to do his duty. The money (thirty
dollars) that had been extorted the day before for _siyar_ to the
Hamoumi, who had not yet turned up, and given to the soldiers, was by
them put into Saleh's keeping, as he had a box that could be locked. In
the night Talib came to Saleh and said: 'Six Hamoumi are here; give me
the money for them.' 'Wait till morning,' said Saleh, 'and I will give it
you before Mr. Bent, Imam Sharif, and everybody,' but when he offered it
to him then, he said, 'No, keep it.'
We had gone a little ahead next morning, February 21, Talib, Imam Sharif,
and I, with the needful escort, my husband having to ride a camel as his
horse's back was sore, and had proceeded an hour on our road
when--'Bang!' went a gun high up in the rocks, to our left, near the
village of Kouna or Koutna, and 'bang!' went another; so we stopped, and
with some hesitation five of the soldiers and some of the Jabberi went
forward, getting round behind the shelter of some trees. There were seven
men up in the rocks, and a tower in the village was crowded. They
constantly fired from both places. The camels soon came up, and we all
dismounted and stood together with our animals, Basha, Zubda, and Mahsoud
close by. This shooting and parleying went on for half an hour. We
thought at first that they would only fire over our heads, but a bullet
struck the ground very near us.
We could not make out what it was all about. There were so many different
suggestions made as to the cause; some said the people of the village
wanted to come with us as _siyara_, and some that they wanted to fight
the Hamoumi, who had lately taken their camels.
Our men shouted, '_Siyara! Siyara!_' and the men on the tower, 'Come no
nearer!' 'By my God you shall not come on!' 'We are fighting and we will
slay him who dares to stir a step!'
Talib said, 'Now we can go neither backward nor forward,' and amazed us
by asking for no money.
At last the soldiers came back from the village and told us to advance,
so we mounted and rode through the village amidst uncomplimentary remarks
from the scowling inhabitants. We were told some people had gone on to
intercept us, and accordingly about half a mile farther there were more
shots, this time to our right. We of course came to a standstill, but
Talib, in spite of the shooting, rushed at Mahsoud's bridle and dragged
Imam Sharif down into the river bed, calling excitedly to the rest of us
to hurry on. We passed safely, and you may be sure looked in every rock
and bush for enemies.
Hardly a quarter of a mile on, and where the valley is about three
hundred yards wide, there was a small tower to our left, and we saw a lot
of men rushing into this and appearing on the battlements. We knew they
would shoot at us and I was watching for the puff. The first shot threw
up the earth nearly two yards from my horse's nose, and the next seemed
to say 'tshish!' just at the back of my neck. It went just between my
husband and Imam Sharif, who were on foot behind me.
Everyone ran as fast as the rocky ground let them, to some trees out of
sight of that tower, but not knowing whether we were not going to meet
with more shooters, we always had our revolvers ready, though no one knew
that; our safety lay in being unarmed in the enemies' eyes; we kept them
for worse need.
The sheikh of Kouna said his name was Abdullah-bal-Jabbeli, of the tribe
of Obathani. There are two other small tribes, Zedin--Sheikh Ebenadon,
and Shibim--Sheikh Bengadem.
After that last firing there was no more that day, and we slept
peacefully at Naïda, which we reached about 12.30, and where the
inhabitants were quite friendly, bringing us all the food we asked to
buy. The valley seemed to come quite to an end, but took a sudden turn
eastward just before we reached the village. It is rather a pretty place,
but the spot on which we were encamped was dreadfully dirty, and we were
so afflicted by dust-storms, that our books were covered while we read,
and the colour of our clothes and bedding obliterated, and we had to tie
our hair up in handkerchiefs to keep it clean.
We always had quilts of turkey-red or some other cotton, for when we lay
down our beds often became sandy, and the quilts could easily be shaken
or brushed, and besides protected the blankets from burrs and
grass-thorns. We were by ourselves in the afternoon when Talib came quite
alone, and with an air of secrecy, to ask for his eleven dollars for that
day's camel hire. I rushed out to the kitchen and brought Matthaios as a
witness. Then Talib asked for two dollars, and when my husband began to
call Saleh, he said he did not want them and went away. He was soon back
again, however, with Saleh, to ask if my husband wished to pay any more
for _siyara_ of the people we were coming to. My husband said 'No,' and
after some talk Talib said he would not ask it if my husband did not
wish. I told Talib that the very next thing he would get would be my
husband's money-bag, so he retired. Later he came for thirty dollars to
send to some people that night, but my husband told him to send his own
men for them, and not afterwards to say he had paid a messenger; the
money would only be paid into those people's own hands. We lay down with
no great certainty of peace for the morrow, when we expected to reach
Ghaida.
All, however, went quietly that day, much to our relief. My husband had
been induced to pay a rupee to send a scout up the mountain to look
behind rocks and bushes for dangers, but we passed on our way completely
unmolested by the shepherdesses, young and old, who were all we met with
in the shape of human beings.
The valley became narrower, we rose higher, and the cliffs were
cavernous. Sometimes the valley seemed quite to finish up, but then it
always took a turn again. Much of the way was over large, round stones,
most horrible for the horses.
We passed a water-place two hours after we left Naïda, though Talib had
made us stop there because, he said, there was no water within a day's
journey, and we found ourselves stopped at Rahba, two hours at least
before Ghaida, where we expected to be, Talib still sticking to it that
we should be at Sheher in three more days. He only asked for four annas
for coffee to drink at the great tomb of a wali, Sheikh
Salem-bin-Abdullah Mollah el Mohagher, who is buried near a mosque and a
tank, the footbath of cattle, from which we drank pea-green water, boiled
and filtered of course. Altogether Rahba is a pretty village, but much
exposed to wind. The tribes thereabout are Mahri, Gohi, and Salbani.
February the 23rd was a weary day. Talib had asked leave to go to Sufeila
to arrange something with the sheikh, soon after our arrival at Rahba,
saying he would not be away long. He did not go all day, but at night
said he was now going, and would take sixty rupees _siyar_ then, but was
told we would take it ourselves. In the morning the Hamoumi refused to
load up, saying they had not been paid the twenty-seven dollars. Talib
was absent, but being fetched said he was keeping the money, as otherwise
the Hamoumi might leave us anywhere they liked. In the meantime the
soldiers, according to their habit, instead of keeping their weapons for
our safeguard, once more gave up their swords and guns to the Hamoumi.
They always were pledging them to our enemies, as an earnest that we
would do what they wanted.
The Hamoumi loaded the camels, on the oath of Talib that they should have
the money that night at Sufeila, a place that we were to pass, and which
the day before we were told it was impossible to reach in one stage. They
swore to take us to Bir Baokban. We started about ten o'clock, and at
eleven the camels were stopped at Sufeila, and the men said they would
wait a quarter of an hour, to which my husband consented. They then began
to lead the camels away to feed, so my husband stoutly said that if they
did that he would get other camels. Neither he nor any of us knew how or
whence these other camels could be procured, but it had the desired
effect, and they left the camels sitting among their loads. Saleh was
sent to arrange with the wretched little sheikh, and remained away till
after two o'clock. A soldier was sent to fetch him, and then arose a
tremendous uproar. First they said we should stay where we were, then
that we should go only a short distance, and on a different way to that
already settled. After that we were told we could not go to Al Figra or
Al Madi, as these were recognised places for murders, and we were told
the same of Ghail Babwazir; also a good many different numbers of days
were mentioned for our journey.
My husband said he would camp at Sufeila, but they quickly loaded up for
Bir Baokban, they said. The sheikh was given fifteen dollars, and he told
us he would send four of his sons with us.
I must say that after those four or five hours of being stared at and
called bad names, I was pretty tired. We none of us remarked that three
of the soldiers, all the Jabberi, and the four sons stayed behind.
I was riding with Imam Sharif, two Indians, four soldiers, and the groom
leading Zubda, whose back was still sore, when we came to a fork in the
way. The soldiers asked a passing man, 'Which is the way to Ghail?' The
man looked puzzled; so were we. I said, 'We want to know the way to Bir
Baokban.' 'No, no! Ghail,' said the soldiers, and when I said 'Baokban!'
again they laughed scornfully. Our _kafila_ came up, and I rode to my
husband and told him I was sure we were being led out of our way.
We were guided down a rocky slope into a valley not more than 200 feet
wide, with thick woods up each side, and a sandy bottom. Here we were
stopped by a good many shots from each side, and retreated a little,
without turning our backs, and then looked about for the four sons. There
was another row of course, and my husband said we would return to
Sufeila; but we were told at last that we might pass, so we did, and one
of the shooters soon joined us and asked for a rupee for coffee, but was
refused, and then said he would let us go to Bir Baokban if he got a
rupee, but he did not insist. We now thought it well to ask where we
were, and were told that it was Hadbeh, a place we had never heard of
before. My husband said we should return to Sufeila, and carried off a
string of camels. There was a great consultation, amid much roaring and
shouting. I rode fast to the head of the _kafila_ to see what was
happening, my husband still going back with about six camels, the others
going on, they said, to Bir Baokban. I then galloped back over the stones
to the soldiers who were behind, and said, 'Your sultan has placed you
under our orders; go and get those camels back.' 'No, no,' they said, 'it
is quite safe to go on,' and ran back as hard as they could.
I then rode back quickly to my husband, and found him in abject distress;
one of his camels had shed its load, and was seated on the ground. The
soldiers remained behind, sitting on a bank. After a long council, we
determined to go on to a village close by, where we joined the other
camels. We had barely time to set up the tents before dark, and our store
of bread and charcoal stood us in good stead. The Indian party were
dreadfully late getting to bed. Dismay reigned supreme amongst us all.
Saleh came in to our tent and said, 'The man who shot at us says, "You
cannot go on to-morrow. To-day we only shot our bullets in the air, but
to-morrow we shall shoot at you."'
We thought of going back to Sufeila, and sending to the sultan of Sheher
for help, but where could we find a messenger? When we were in bed, Saleh
came and said two men with the matches of their guns alight were standing
by our tent; some of those that had shot at us, and said they wanted four
or six annas, as they were returning to Sufeila. They refused to take
four then, so my husband said they had better come about it in the
morning.
Morning revealed that these were some of our own camel-men, who were
just pretending to be the shooters in order to get money, and also we
found out that Talib had employed the shooters to give us the fright, in
order to delay us, that the Jabberi and the soldiers might have a feast
at our expense in the village, and time to eat it. They did not reach
camp till eleven.
Next morning the soldiers brought my husband twelve of the fifteen
dollars the sheikh had received (being part of the original thirty, said
to be for the three other tribes of Hamoumi), saying that he was a very
wicked man, as he had not sent his four sons, so they had only left him
three dollars for the feast. Hardly had my husband put this by, when
Talib came and had to be given thirty-six dollars for _siyar_ to the
Mahri. Plainly we were in their hands, and had to pay whatever Talib
chose, as we might be hemmed in at any moment. We felt as if we were in a
net.
The eleven dollars camel-hire which we had kept out having gone to make
up this sum, and the camel-men refusing to load without it, we had to
unpack again to get it for them.
Sufeila, where we had endured such a disagreeable delay, is on the
tableland, 3,150 feet above the sea-level, with excellent air, excellent
water, palm and other trees, and would make a first-class sanatorium for
Aden. It is ten miles inland from Sheher as the crow flies.
About 8 o'clock next morning we started, not knowing precisely whence or
whither, and determined to keep together as much as possible. We followed
for miles the bed of a stream, which collects all the water from this
part of the akaba, and gradually develops into Wadi Adim, the great
approach to the Hadhramout. There is a fortress on a hill 3,500 feet
above the sea-level, the highest point in this part; Haibel Gabrein being
4,150 feet, and near Dizba the highest point is 4,900 feet. After some
miles on the akaba, we plunged into a valley about 200 feet wide, and
wooded with palms; the earthen cliffs were about 60 feet high, and the
bed sandy.
By this time we neither had a liking for valleys, cliffs, trees, nor
people. We did not feel pleased at being led straight across the valley
to a band of armed men, in a most unpleasant situation for us if they
meant mischief. These were only Jabberi travelling, and they were told
that we were friends of the sultan of Sheher, and not going to stay a
minute. I suppose they would have fired if we had not been introduced to
them. We were glad to reach Bir Baokban at 11.30. It is a well in a bare
place at the mouth of a valley. Talib did not wish to stay there, for the
water is brackish, and he wanted us to go on before the camel-men came
up, but we waited, and they and the Jabberi had a loud and angry quarrel,
and we were told there was no water nearer than Al Madi, and some of them
wanted to stop at a place half-way to Al Madi and send for water. We
could make neither head nor tail of it. Talib then asked my husband which
he wished to do, for so it should be; but as he knew it was a case of
'You may do as you like, but you must,' answered to that effect,
'Whichever Talib liked, we were in his hands and could not choose.' After
great hesitation we encamped in a windy, dusty, but rather pleasant place
near Bir Baokban.
There were many tombs on the way. One had three upright stones, which the
Hamoumi camel-men touched, and then kissed their fingers.
They cheerfully told us that many caravans have been robbed here, and men
murdered; pleasant news for us.
We asked them why we had been fired on, and they said that the people
believed we poisoned the wells. The soldiers came and shouted at us a
good deal, saying, 'Why do you hire Bedouin to protect you? Are we not
here? Do you not trust us?' We soothed them with flattering words, and
then Talib came and extorted nine more dollars.
In the morning we had to pay three dollars to three men who said they had
seen four men, which four men ran away. We were informed that we were to
pass through three tribes that day, and should have a good deal of
trouble on the way to Dizba, the place half way to Al Madi. As a matter
of fact we were pretty sure that these later scares were only got up to
frighten more money out of our pockets. The soldiers were told to go in
front, but they often sat down and lit a fire for their water pipe, got
behind, or rode a camel.
Though we went up and down a good deal, it was not too steep to ride all
the way, and though there were watchings and scoutings, we saw neither
man nor beast, nor any habitation of the three tribes. As we went along
my husband was told that an old woman (whom we never saw) had come and
said that the men of Al Madi would not let us pass, and that we must
write to the sultan of Sheher to send us two hundred soldiers.
There is water at Dizba, though we were told there was none till Al Madi.
We encamped in a sheltered spot, a sort of pot between low hills. We
ought, according to the solemn contract, to have been at Sheher by that
time. We talked over the plan of sending to Sheher, and decided that
doing so meant much pay to the messenger, thirty or forty more dollars
_siyar_, and, what was worst, four days' delay; it would also cost
forty-four dollars in camel-hire; so we decided that it was far better to
push on, for our delay would only give time to more enemies to gather
round us. It would likewise be far cheaper, and so it subsequently turned
out.
From being hypocrites we now became liars, and my husband said he had not
so much money left, and that he had already paid four rupees to send men
on the morrow. There was some talk of our all going by night and getting
past Al Madi, but in that case our own men would only fire on us to
frighten us. Next we heard that there was no village at Al Madi where we
could buy forage; we had but little left, though plenty of dried bread.
Then three Jabberi came and said they were getting lame, and wanted eight
dollars to buy a donkey out of their food-money, but my husband said he
had paid so much for _siyara_ that he had not enough to pay that till we
reached Sheher.
There was an idea that they would shoot round us in the night, for they
spoke of the dangerous situation in which we were, and wanted six or
eight dollars to pay for scouts on the hills, but went away when my
husband said he would see about it in the morning. In case they did we
determined to remain silent in our beds that they might be unable to
locate us, and in that case they would not fire at our tents for fear of
hitting us.
We had a very cold night; the dew in the morning was streaming off our
tent in heavy drops.
Talib said, 'The people of Al Madi do not want money, but our lives and
souls.' We did not think they meant to kill us, but only to frighten
money out of us. We also overheard some conversation about our lives and
baggage being in peril. We had not far to go, but the way was very
intricate.
At sunset we three had a great council, and sent for Saleh; the soldiers,
having been flattered, were fetched too, as we now thought we had them on
our side, and we threatened to ruin them and their families, or to give
them good bakshish if they did well by us. My husband said we had decided
that in future he would not give another pi (not to eat, but there are a
good many pies in an anna and also pice), but that, as the camel-men
spoke of stopping between Dizba and Al Madi, we would have some food
ready to eat on the journey and get the soldiers to force them on; and,
if we had to stay, to load the horses and start the following morning to
Sheher. The soldiers agreed on promise of a good sheep next day; the
Hamoumi camel-men were promised coffee and sugar, so they agreed also.
When they were all gone, Saleh, to our unbounded amazement, said that
Seid and Talib had confided to him 114 rupees, on account of his having
the locked box; so he brought them to us, and amid shouts of laughter
they were engulfed in our bag.
By the bye, we actually had two of the Al Madi people with us, so we
ought to have been safe; or what is the good of _siyara_?
In the morning an awful object met our view. This was a soldier, a very
ugly black man, who was dragged along on his knees by his arms and
shoulders to our tent. He had been struck by the cold, his companions
said. He seemed to be perfectly helpless, and to have no control or use
of any muscles save those which were at work making the most horrible
grimaces. I ran to the kitchen and fetched our tea, to the rage of
Matthaios, who said he had no more water to replace it, and that as it
was we could not have a cupful each. It was poured down his throat in a
very rough way, but refused to stay. My husband gave him some of an
unknown medicine, that he said was specially used for such cases, and
this brandy just trickled out of his mouth, so they dragged him away to
their own fire, still in a kneeling position. They then opened his jacket
and burnt him a good deal with a hot sword, and he was given tepid water
to drink, which stayed down very well. When we were about to start, he
was held upright by two men. A thick square shawl was put rather
carelessly over his head with the fringe over his face, and pushed back
off his shoulders, to allow his arms to come out through an _abba_, a
kind of cloak with armholes, which was also put over his head. They came
out so high up of course, that the hands stuck out on a level with his
ears. High up under his elbows, and far above his waist, a turban was
wound, and a muffler was put round his neck and mouth; he hobbled along
with two supporters and leaning on a spear, with the shawl streaming on
the ground like a train--a very absurd sight. In about an hour he was
quite well.
Talib, not knowing of our little plan of going with the Hamoumi to Al
Madi, came and told us how very dangerous Al Madi was, and that it would
be far better to go by Ghail Babwazir, if only the camel-drivers would
agree. If they would not, he would put all our most necessary things,
_i.e._ our money, on his own camel, and we would ride secretly off
together. It is needless to say we did not consent, as it would have been
'Good-bye Talib and money!'
Then Ali, the chief of the camel-men, came and said he would not go
unless he got six secret dollars for himself and six for the others, and
said he would (like Ananias and Sapphira) swear he had only six. Imam
Sharif and Saleh again perjured themselves in our behalf to such an
extent that my husband and I could hardly sit by, but we must speak the
language of the country, I suppose.
From Dizba we passed over very high ground, 4,300 feet, with a cold
refreshing wind from the sea. It seemed to us a healthy climate. In a
little narrow pass is a rude tomb near the rough stone cabin of a sainted
lady called Sheikha, where our soldiers and camel-men made their
devotions.
I had a very uncomfortable ride, for on the way we saw an aloe of a kind
we had not seen before, and which proved to be new enough to obtain the
name of _Aloe Luntii_. The botanist sawed off the head of it (which is
growing now in Kew Gardens), and we knew he dared not try to take it on
his camel, as the men always quarrelled over every weight that was added
to the load; so I told him to go on and leave it, as if he did not care
for it, and then I tied it to the off-side of my saddle, and had to ride
hanging heavily on my left stirrup, as otherwise I should have been
over-balanced, and my horse would have got a sore back. On arrival, I
dismounted in a quiet place, put the aloe down with my jacket thrown on
it, and later fetched it into the tent, under cover of my feminine
draperies, and at night it was smuggled into some package. On one
occasion, when no one had been riding for some days past, a felt
saddle-cloth somehow was left behind by us, so one of our own men was
forced to carry it in his hand till I discovered it, and tied it to my
saddle, for he was not allowed to put it on a camel. I tell this to show
how very disobliging they were to us.
Mariala is the name of a disgusting pool or cistern of the very dirtiest
water, on a bare and lonely hillside, where we were exposed to wind and
cold, and where we encamped in much the same state of perplexity as
usual.
Soon after our arrival my husband was asked for eight dollars to send
fifteen men up the hills to look for murderers; he refused, then the
camel-men said they would not start without six men to go ahead, but that
was refused too.
Next morning we started for Al Madi. We wound up and down, over bare
ground, and could see no danger for miles. At a point on the highland we
waited for the camels to come up; they came and passed to the southward
on a well-trodden path. Talib called out to them to stop, and said that
he would not go that way, and that we should not, and that the men were
taking us into danger. He pointed to the south-west, but we did not like
parting from our baggage. Talib then asked my husband which way he
pleased to go.
'Which is the best?' he asked.
'I do not know,' said Talib.
'Very well,' said my husband, 'we will follow the camels.' On we all went
in great doubt, and the Jabberi told us awful stories of the Hamoumi
intentions. We had five armed Jabberi, seven soldiers, and twelve
Hamoumi, all armed, including two little boys.
The soldiers, so brave the night before, said: 'We can do nothing--we are
afraid. If we fired a gun, or if they fired, hundreds of people would
come, and they would kill us.'
They never either raised their weapons or their tongues in our defence.
They said the sultan of Sheher would not be able to go himself or send
soldiers into these parts, and that the Al Madi people wished to decoy us
to Al Madi and kill us. The Jabberi said the same, and Talib again wished
us to ride off with him.
The Hamoumi said it was all Talib's fault, for he owed a great deal of
money at Al Madi, and was afraid of going thither.
The Hamoumi then said they would take us to Ghail Barbwazir or Barbazir
or Babwazir, but we must keep it a secret from the Jabberi and the
soldiers.
Saleh said to them, 'My dear friends, tell me the truth. Where are we
going? I also am an Arab and a Moslem, and I swear by my Koran and my
religion, that we will give you forty dollars, and spend two days in
Ghail Babwazir, during which you will have your eleven dollars a day; and
we will engage you on to Sheher, and give you good bakshish, and a good
character to the sultan and two nice turbans.'
We gasped in amazement at this.
'Oh!' said Saleh, 'I only read them something from the preface of the
Koran! We are not bound at all. If I had to swear falsely on the Koran, I
should have to be given a great many guineas!
We never knew the name of the place where we slept that night.
Talib came in the morning and said he could not persuade the Bedou
Hamoumi to go to Ghail Babwazir. We told him that they had agreed to do
so, and he was very angry at our having settled anything without him.
Then Ali said he could not go in two days; so he was led aside and
privily threatened with public betrayal as to having taken twelve dollars
and saying he only had six. Then they all wanted payment in advance, but
the same threat to Ali availed to avert this bother and we set out, told
that we should go as far as Gambla.
We had, after, all, to part from the camels, which went a more roundabout
way, while we climbed down 1,000 feet over very steep rocks, with the use
of hands as well as feet, the horses being with us, to a place not very
far from water. The horses were sent to fetch a little, while we awaited
the camels more than half an hour, and ate some food we had with us.
The horses had been badly off and had only bread and dates, for the
camel-men would sell us no forage. When they arrived they said we must
stay where we were, and there was a fierce row as usual. They also
demanded their eleven dollars, but gave up sooner than unload, as we said
we would not stop.
At one time, when we had been waiting a long while for the return of
those camels which had gone to fetch skins of water, Talib caused our
horses to be saddled, mounted his camel, and started, but my husband
would not go on to Gambla, when the camel-men had refused to go there.
Then we all lay down on rough stones, scorching in the sun for hours,
wondering what would happen and whether we could get any farther that
day, but at length we suddenly were invited to start.
We had a very steep climb up on foot and then down, and pitched our tents
for the night in a very bare little hollow. We were very sorry for the
horses; it was sad to see them turning over the stones, and we longed for
some real horse food for them.
The soldiers sent a letter to Sheher to announce our arrival, and they
wished to send for more soldiers, but we begged them not to do so, as
they were quite useless.
Seid-bin-Iselem in this lonely spot came to Saleh and wanted some money
to buy something, where there was no one to sell. Saleh said the money
was still in his box, and to make his words good smuggled it in again, in
a most clumsy but quite successful way.
Ali's secret had twice to be threatened, next morning, for different
reasons before we could start, and then they all roared that they would
none of them carry our chairs. We all travelled on foot still, as there
was much climbing to do. We climbed down 2,000 feet, very steep in parts,
to Gambla.
Gambla is a verdant and palmy place where we could buy so much food for
our hungry horses that at length my Basha turned his back on his big
pile, and came with long green streamers hanging from his sated mouth to
doze beside me.
There was a struggle, of course, to stay the night at Gambla, and we were
told we could not reach Ghail Babwazir till very late, but we said we did
not care how late, and Ali was once more privately drawn aside, and again
threatened about the twelve dollars, so it was agreed we should go on.
We waited, however, a long time, and seeing no camels collected to load I
said very loud, 'Call all the Hamoumi together here, and tell Ali that
the very last moment has come.'
Ali rushed about, and soon had us on our way.