It was close upon dawn when to Jill's ears was borne a faint melodious
sound.
Inexpressibly weary was she, exhausted to the point of fainting, for in
spite of numerous haltings, the drinking of tea, coffee, and sherbet,
and the eating of cakes and curious Egyptian sweetmeats, had in no way
lessened the agony of her lower limbs, which she moved this way and
that in the vain effort to relieve the terrible cramp that seemed to
creep from her spine to her brain, and down again to her feet.
The stars danced before and around her, as she swayed to and fro to the
deadly lurching rhythm of the camel's pace; one thing, and one thing
only, having so far saved her from the utter dissolution of fatigue,
and that being when, urged by their master's voice, the three animals
had broken into a gentle trot, ending in a pace which literally took
away the girl's breath; but even that relaxation had had to be
abandoned as the nature of the ground changed.
Most people's conception of the desert is that of one huge expanse of
smooth sand, with here and there a palm tree to break the monotony; an
entirely wrong conception, bred partly, I think, from the highly
coloured scriptural pictures of our youth.
There are tracts of sand extending for many miles, such as those around
big cities into which you wander on camel-back at so much an hour, and
with the description of which you hold your less travelled neighbours
enthralled, as you intersperse the munching of muffins with the words
"dragoman," "backsheesh," and "Cheops."
But even on a week or ten days of genuine travelling you are likely to
pass through and over a variety of grounds, from hard gravel which is
delightful for tent-pitching, ground covered with a liberal supply of
rocks, under which lurks the festive scorpion, great mounds of
limestone which in the desert take on the proportions of mountains,
marks of long-dried pools left by long-dried torrents, defiles almost
as narrow as the camel's scriptural needle, and in places, an earth,
the curious marking of which will almost lead you to believe that it is
cloud-shadowed, if the heat of your head, the state of your throat, and
the lamentable leathery appearance of your skin did not tell you that
for months no such thing as a cloud had been known to appear in the
blazing heavens.
At the first faint, flute-like note Jill thought that she must have
awakened from sleep or delirium, and, it must be confessed, really did
not care which was the solution of the mystery; sinking back into a
state of apathy so exhausted was she, until the three camels came to a
standstill, and the Arab, with something that looked like a dark cloak
across his arm, drew his beast alongside of hers.
"Behold, woman, the hour of Namaz is at hand, when throughout the land
the Muezzin is called, for it is the hour of dawn. The hour when the
curtains of heaven are drawn about the stars, so that they may not be
blinded by the glory of their golden master, as I shall draw this cloak
about the fairness of your sweet face, and the outline of your gracious
figure, which Allah in his bounty has placed within my unworthy hands,
to hide them from the eyes of the high-born, and the eyes of the
low-born, such as yonder slave who, though he be the sweetest maker of
music in all Egypt, is but my head camel tender, though before Allah
who is God, his worth as such could not be purchased for the price of
rubies.
"And now shall your weary form rest a while, while I give praise to
Allah, whose prophet is Mohammed."
Grumbling, the three animals subsided.
"Is all well with you?"
The girl nodded as she stumbled from her seat and stretched herself
full length upon the sands, the convulsive twitching of her cramped
limbs giving way at last to the peace of oblivion.
"Will you forgive me if I leave you in your stress, for behold, the
hour of Namaz waits neither for weariness or joy, nay, nor even death."
But Jill heard nothing, neither his light footfall as he moved some
yards from the unclean Christian whom he loved, and placing his
prayer-rug upon the ground turned towards Mecca, which in Islam is
called Keblah, which, being translated, means "centre"; nor the
splashing of water as he washed three times his nostrils, his mouth,
and hands and arms to the elbow, the right first as ordained, then head
and neck, and ears once and feet once, whilst murmuring a prescribed
form of words, these words being repeated in different positions,
standing erect or sitting, with inclinations of the head and body, and
prostrations in which the Arab in all humility touched the ground with
his forehead.
For Hahmed was a true Mohammedan, carrying out the precepts of his
religion as laid down by the Koran as fully and conscientiously as is
within the power of man. But, you will say, he was voluntarily
consorting with a Christian, who, by the edicts of the Koran, is
considered unclean, inviting pollution by touching the bare skin of her
hands and feet.
True! but the man was no evil liver, picking up to throw away, buying
to regret the purchase within the hour, attracted by this pretty face
or that lovely form. Nay. He loved the girl as it is unhappily given
on this earth for but few women to be so loved, and with all the
strength of his will he intended the outcome of this love to be one
more triumph to the glory of Allah.
As for the pollution of her satin skin, did he not murmur the prayer of
purification when in contact with it?
Neither did Jill notice that the man, his purification and his prayers
ended, had come over to her, standing gazing down at the almost tragic
picture she made out-stretched on the sands.
Her death-white face was buried in the curve of one folded arm, the
other, flung out, lay with the palm of the hand uppermost. The little
feet were crossed under the crumpled skirt, from which peeped the folds
of her last white silk petticoat.
"Poor little bird," he murmured, as the sense of mastership rose strong
within him at the sight of the helpless child at his feet. "So weary,
so beautiful, and so young. Behold, shall a nest be built for thee in
which thou shalt rest, shaking off the plumage harmed in thy short
passage through life, to appear at last more beautiful than the most
glorious bird in Paradise," and bending he touched her gently.
But Jill, who had had no real sleep since she had left the boat, had
passed at last into an almost comatose condition, from which it was
doubtful she could have been awakened, even at the sound of Israfil's
Trumpet.[1]
Crossing to the camels Hahmed considerably lengthened the lead, and
attaching the camels Taffadaln and Howesha one on each side of his own,
he bade the two former rise, which they did with alacrity, leading one
to believe that they heard the flute-like music calling them to the
cool of the palm tree's shade, the doubtful bucket of water, and the
certain repast, terminating with a handful of luscious dates.
Stooping, the man raised the unconscious girl from the ground, holding
her as lightly as a feather on one arm, and draping the dark cloak
around her so as to cover the red-gold hair, drew a corner across the
face.
Perhaps some may enjoy restraining the vagaries of a lead horse, which
sees fit to proceed sideways at the encounter of anything in motion on
the road, or execute a _pas seul_ on the hind legs at the flutter of a
leaf, without referring to what happens if a white paper-bag should
attract the nervous eye.
But it is mere child's play compared with the leading under certain
circumstances, of one or more self-willed, obstinate, vain-glorious
camels.
Seated across his black camel the Arab drew the girl's head against his
shoulder, holding her gently but firmly in his left arm.
A word, and the camel pitching and tossing finally acquired an upright
position. Things went well for a score or so of yards, the three
animals proceeding at a stately demure pace, until verily the devil
entered into Taffadaln.
Suddenly she rushed sideways, then with front legs wide apart came to a
dead stop, jerking the black camel violently.
"Thou awkward descendant of clumsy parents, what aileth thee?"
exclaimed her master, as Jill's head bumped violently against his
shoulder. "Take heed to my words. Enjoy this thy last ride through
the glory of the desert, for verily at the end shalt thou, between the
periods of bearing young, be put to the lowest tasks apportioned to the
lowest of thy species."
Whereupon Taffadaln turned solemnly towards the speaker, and lifting
her upper lip laughed, and with no more ado faced towards the palm
trees, which to desert-trained eyes showed faintly some miles away,
took two steps forward, humped herself together, collapsed on the
ground, and stretching out her neck, half-closed her eyes.
Imagine the helplessness of her master, seated so high upon his camel
as to render useless any chastisement with the _courbaash_, which whip
applied deftly to certain less tough portions of the camel's body will
usually bring the brute to reason, if he who wields the whip cares to
risk the accumulation of revenge which the punishment will infallibly
store up in the camel's brain. A veritable storm of anger raged in the
man as he looked down upon the girl lying peacefully in his arms in a
sleep which even the camel's uncouth procedure could not disturb.
Once more groaning bitterly his camel and Howesha grounded, which
latter word describes best, in condensed form, the camel's method of
lying down.
Out of one corner of her half-shut, insolent eye, the beautiful
Taffadaln watched proceedings, and just as her master, holding Jill
gently in his arms, was slipping from the saddle, with a positively
fiendish squeal of triumph, and one gigantic effort which beat any
record, for swiftness established in any camel's family history, she
rose suddenly, and rushing forward once more to the end of her lead,
caused the black camel to fall sideways and the dismounting man to
stumble, and in order to save her, to place Jill with distinct vigour
upon the sand.
Not one syllable did he utter, not one line appeared on the perfectly
calm face, as he raised the girl and carried her further from the
camels, where she lay as still as though the angel Azrael[2] had
separated her soul from her body.
Walking to Taffadaln he stood for some minutes absolutely motionless in
contemplation, whilst the object of his thoughts, blissfully ignorant
of what was in store, and because it suited her mood of the moment,
came meekly to ground on the word of command.
[1]In Islamism there are four angels particularly favoured by Allah,
who is God. Israfil is the name of one whose office will be to sound
the trumpet at the Resurrection.
[2]Azrael--Angel of Death.