TO SUEZ.
_Round the decay_
_Of that colossal wreck; boundless and bare_
_The lone and level sands stretch far away._
_Tuesday, April 17th_.--The breeze still continued and freshened, and
we sailed along pleasantly before it, finding it a great relief to be
rid of the thud and beat of the engine. There is no vibration, but the
noise is unpleasant. About eleven o'clock we passed the island of
Perim, a most desolate-looking place. I do not wonder that officers so
much dislike being quartered there. It is an important position
though, and is shortly to be strengthened, when water-tanks will be
built, and attempts made to cultivate the soil. At present there does
not appear to be a blade of vegetation, and on the side we passed,
between the island and the coast of Arabia, nothing is to be seen but
the little white lighthouse and the path leading up to it. On the
southern side there is a very fair harbour and a moderate town. On the
shore all round the island turtles are caught at the season when they
land to deposit their eggs. To pass the island of Perim we sailed
through the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb, or 'Gate of Tears,' thus called
on account of the numerous wrecks which took place there in former
years. Once through the straits, we were fairly in the Red Sea. The
colour of the Red Sea is certainly the bluest of ultramarines. In the
afternoon the town of Mocha Yamen, celebrated alike for its breed of
Arab horses and its coffee, was visible from the masthead. It is a
large white town, full of cupolas and minarets, surrounded with green
as far as irrigation extends, and looking like a pearl set in emeralds
on the margin of the deep blue sea against a background of red and
yellow sand-mountains. Later in the afternoon we passed Great and
Little Hamish, where the P. and O. boat, 'Alma,' was wrecked some
fifteen years ago, and during the night sailed by Jebel Zibayar and
Tukar.
[Illustration: Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb.]
_Wednesday, April 18th_.--In the morning, at daylight, we were off
Jebel Teir, Mussawa Island, Annesley Bay lying 60 miles to the west.
Our position was about 60 miles to the south-west of Mussawa Zoulia,
where the expedition under Lord Napier of Magdala landed in 1867. At
noon we had sailed 221 miles, a most unexpected run in the Red Sea. In
the afternoon it fell calm, but the wind freshened again, and we went
on sailing until after midnight.
_Thursday, April 19th_.--We commenced steaming at 1 a.m., stopped,
however, at 5 a.m., and sailed all day. Yesterday we were surrounded
by some beautiful blue birds, who hovered about us and settled at
intervals on the masts and yards. During the night two were caught
napping by the men, and in the course of to-day two more, hotly
pursued by a hawk, took refuge on board and were also captured. One
was given to me. It appears to be a very beautiful kind of jay, with
feathers of the most brilliant shades of blue. The men have killed
their birds for the sake of the skins, but I mean to try and keep mine
alive. At Colombo several birds and two curiously starred tortoises
were added to our collection; and we took on board at Aden a gazelle,
a black cockatoo, and a green monkey.
We passed Souakim to-day, the port of Nubia. It is about 275 miles, or
25 days' camel-journey, from thence to Berber on the Nile. The road
passes through Korib, and among fine red granite and black basalt
mountains, 4,000 feet high. We left one of the firemen, Tom Dollar,
behind at Aden by mistake, and only found out yesterday that we had
done so. It appears that he has a brother living there, whom he was
most anxious to go and see directly the anchor was let go, in the
morning. Unfortunately, he did not speak to us on the subject. He had
never been in anything but a regular steamer before, and could not
believe it possible that the 'Sunbeam' could spread her wings and be
off without any preliminary 'fire-worshipping,' I am very sorry for
the poor man, as he has left all his clothes and the wages he had
earned on board the P. and O. steamer behind him. We must send them
back from Suez, and telegraph to some one to look out for him. The
heat is intense, and we all sleep on deck at night; the sunrises and
sunsets are magnificent.
_Friday, April 20th_.--A little hotter still; there is no wind at all,
and we are obliged to steam. In the morning we passed to the southward
of Jeddo, the port of Mecca. Unfortunately it was so hazy that we
could not distinguish anything whatever of the town or country, only a
line of mountains rearing their heads above the clouds. We had hoped
to be at Suez early on Sunday, but now I fear we shall not arrive
until Monday.
_Saturday, April 21st_.--Hotter and still hotter every day, says the
thermometer, and so we say also. Everybody told us these would be our
two hottest days, and certainly the prediction has been verified. We
did not see a single ship all day, but in the afternoon passed Zambo,
the port of Medina. A little before midnight we made the light on the
Dædalus shoal on the starboard bow.
This being Muriel's fifth birthday, Mabelle and the doctor and the men
have been arranging a surprise for her all day, and none of us were
allowed to go on the port side of the deck, but after dinner we were
taken to a hastily fitted-up theatre, very prettily decorated with
flags and Japanese lanterns. On a throne covered with the Union Jack,
Muriel was seated, the two pugs being on footstools on either side of
her to represent lions _couchant_. Some of the men had blackened their
faces, and gave us a really very excellent Christy Minstrel
entertainment, in which undreamed-of talent came to light. It is very
odd and interesting how one is perpetually finding out something new
about the men. Some of the crew we thought the most unpromising when
we started, have turned out among our best men, always ready and
willing for everything, while others, who at first appeared the best,
have not proved so good. Many we knew well beforehand. On the whole,
however, we have very little cause to complain of our crew; all pull
well together when they are kept up to their work and have plenty to
do.
_Sunday, April 22nd_.--Clouds veiled the sunrise this morning, which
was a welcome relief; still it was too hot for service in the saloon,
and it was therefore held on deck. A light breeze sprang up ahead
during its performance, which cooled and refreshed us immensely. About
twelve o'clock we passed another pair of 'Brothers,' a couple of
odd-looking rocks or islands, like tables, rising straight out of the
sea; there is a beacon on the northernmost one. While we were at
lunch, the breeze freshened so much that we were all glad to add some
wraps to our light and airy costumes. A little later, a summer gale
was blowing ahead, making some of us feel very uncomfortable and long
for the halcyon days of the past, even with the accompaniment of the
inevitable heat. Such is mankind, and womankind too for that matter,
'never blessed but always to be blessed.' The gale freshened, the
screw was raised, the yacht pitched and rolled, and we were obliged to
put her off her course and under sail before night fell. The spray
came over the decks, and there was a strong wind dead ahead. We all
felt cold and miserable, though the thermometer still registered 75°.
The poor monkeys and parrots looked most wretched and unhappy, and had
to be packed away as speedily as possible. Nine monkeys in an empty
wine case seemed very happy and cuddled together for warmth, but the
two larger and more aristocratic members of the party required a box
to themselves. The gazelle had a little tent pitched for him specially
in a sheltered corner, and the birds were all stowed away and battened
over in the smoking fiddle. Dinner was rather a lame pretence, and it
was not long before we all retired, and certainly no one wished to
take his or her mattress on deck to-night. It is the first night I
have slept in a bed on board the yacht for many weeks, and a very
disturbed night it was, for the waves ran high, and we have lately
been sailing so steadily over smooth seas, that we did not know what
to make of this.
_Monday, April 23rd_.--The gale blew as hard as ever, and quite as
dead ahead. About noon we made the island of Shaduan, or isle of
Seals, so named by the ancients, when the sea and gulf abounded with
seals. There are still a few occasionally to be seen to the northward
by the fishermen, and their skins are brought to Suez for sale. We are
making tacks backwards and forwards across the narrow sea, an exciting
amusement for a yachtsman, as it requires constant attention. The
sailing directions say that this sea is ill surveyed, except in the
direct channel. There are many coral reefs and sunken rocks, and on
whichever side you may happen to be wrecked, the natives are ready to
rob, ill-treat, and kill you, or sell you as slaves in the interior.
It was on two projecting coral reefs from the island of Shaduan, that
the 'Carnatic' was wrecked in 1869. She ran ashore at four o'clock in
the morning of the 13th of September, soon after having made the light
on Rhas Garril. We were at Suez in October of the same year, and
everybody was then full of the sad particulars of the wreck, the
soldiers being especially useful in bringing in the passengers'
luggage, which had been recovered from the Arabs. One of our firemen,
Abraham, was on board the 'Carnatic' at the time of the disaster, and
lost all his worldly goods (not many, I should think, judging by what
he has brought on board here).
The sea was very rough and disagreeable all day. To us the temperature
appears quite cool, indeed cold, though the thermometer still remains
at 75°. Our friends at Aden, who prophesied that I should want my
sealskin jacket before leaving the Gulf of Suez, were not so far wrong
in their prognostications as I imagined at the time.
_Tuesday, April 24th_.--We are still beating to windward against a
head gale, and by noon had made sixty-five miles to the good, right in
the wind's eye--not a bad performance, considering that the gale was
blowing with a force of nine or ten. It has the merit of novelty too,
for I suppose that for years no sailing ships have been seen in the
Gulf of Suez. The winds blow so steadily for months together, that for
six months in the year you cannot get into the Red Sea, and for the
other six months you cannot get out of it.
We passed the island of Rhas Garril, and soon afterwards a steamer
went by, altering her course a good deal to inspect us. She evidently
thought we were a broken-down steamer, and intended to come to our
rescue. All yesterday and to-day we have been making flannel coats for
the monkey, and covers for birdcages, and improvising shelters and
snug corners for our pets. At night especially the wind is quite
crisp. If this gale continues, it will be Thursday or Friday before we
reach Suez; but it may possibly change to-night, and it looks now as
if it were breaking.
[Illustration: Beating up the Red Sea.]
_Wednesday, April 25th_.--At last the gale _has_ broken. There was not
much wind when I went on deck at 4 a.m., and by seven o'clock it was
so nearly calm, that the funnel could be raised and fires lighted, and
we were soon steaming straight for our destination. We could not see
Mount Sinai on account of the mist, but made out the place where the
Israelites are said to have crossed the Red Sea, and by four o'clock
the town of Suez lay right ahead. The shores are very barren, not a
blade of grass nor a scrap of vegetation being visible. Nothing is to
be seen save mountain peaks, rocks, stones, and sand. But even this
barren scene has a special beauty of its own, particularly at sunrise
and sunset. The shapes of mountain and rock are alike striking, the
sharp shadows are lovely, and the contrast of reds, yellows, and
browns, with the bright blue sea and crisp white waves, is very
beautiful. Even when the sun has set, and the rich tints have faded
away, the full moon adds another charm to the landscape.
This afternoon, as we were steaming up towards Suez, I had a chat with
Mahomet, one of our Indian firemen, who was fringing a piece of muslin
for a turban. I asked him if it was English. 'No, Missy; no
English--Switzerland; English no good; all gum and sticky stuff; make
fingers dirty; all wash out; leave nothing.' In the South Sea and
Sandwich Islands, and in the Malay Peninsula, the natives make the
same complaints as to the Manchester cottons. At Hongkong some of the
large shops had fifty expensive English ships' compasses on hand; they
were all quite unsaleable owing to the liquid having gone bad, in
consequence of its not having been properly prepared. Some American
compasses of the same quality were in good order and not in the least
affected by the climate. It will be a bad day when the confidence in
England's honesty as a nation throughout the world, and consequently
her well-earned supremacy in commerce, have passed away. The burden,
unfortunately, will not fall on the heads of the offenders alone, but,
as usual, the innocent will suffer with and for the guilty.
After four o'clock we came near two steamers lying at anchor, and were
shortly afterwards boarded by the captain of the port, the health
officer, and sundry other functionaries. After a short delay we
dropped anchor, and just as the sun was setting in 'purple and gold'
behind the mountains of Arabia, we went ashore in the steam launch. We
landed at the Canal Company's Office, in front of which there is a
bust of Lieutenant Waghorn, the inaugurator of the overland route.
At the office, the 'Sunbeam' was entered on the Company's books, and
arrangements were made with the chief pilot for to-morrow, while the
children amused themselves by riding a pony up and down, and jumping
over the little brooks, and I strolled about admiring the enormous
growth of the vegetation since we were here last in 1869. We next
steamed five miles further on to the town of Suez, and landed opposite
the big hotel, which is more uncomfortable than ever. The rooms are
dirty, and the cooking execrable.
There is nothing to see at Suez, but still we went for a ramble to see
that nothing. We cleared our boxes and our letters, and then went on
ankle deep in sand to the one European house, the railway station, the
Arab quarter and the bazaars, where it is occasionally possible to
pick up rather interesting little curiosities brought by the pilgrims
from Mecca and Medina.
_Thursday, April 26th_.--Such a sunrise as this morning's you could
only see in Arabia or Egypt. There is a peculiarity about desert
colouring at sunrise and sunset that can never be seen anywhere else.
We had sundry visitors during the early morning, and before ten
o'clock we were in the Canal and steaming on at regulation speed. As
the sun rose the heat became intense, 96° in the shade under double
awnings. So far from there being a cool breeze to temper it, a hot
wind blew from the desert, like the blast from a furnace. I stood on
the bridge as long as I could bear the heat, to look at the strange
desert view, which could be seen to great advantage in going through
at the top of high water. Sand, sand everywhere; here a train of
camels, there a few Arab tents, now a whole party shifting their place
of abode; a group of women washing, or a drove of buffaloes in a small
tributary stream. After going about eight miles we stopped at a _gare_
(as the stopping-places are called) to allow three vessels to pass.
One was a fine steamer belonging to the Ducal Line; the others were a
Dutch and a German boat (one, the Friesland, has been since wrecked
off Cape Finisterre, in December 1877). The cleanliness and general
smartness of the former presented a great contrast to her companions,
on which the passengers looked very hot and uncomfortable. The centre
part of each vessel was crowded with a large number of Dutch or German
boys, going out as soldiers to Acheen, who certainly did not appear to
be enjoying their voyage.
We passed Chaloux and reached Ismailia just at nine o'clock, not
without considerable effort on the part of the pilot. A steam launch
came off from the shore, and we (children and all) landed at once;
and, after a moonlight donkey ride, dined at the excellent Hôtel de
Paris, kept by an old Frenchman. _Table-d'hôte_ was over, but they
gave us a capital little dinner by ourselves. The children and I, and
some of the gentlemen, start to-morrow, overland _viâ_ Cairo, to join
the yacht at Alexandria, in order that they may see the Pyramids. It
was a glorious night as we rowed off to the yacht under the bright
beams of the full moon, and the air, too, was quite fresh and cool--a
most refreshing change from the noontide heat.
The traffic on the Canal has increased during the last few years, and
especially during the last few months; on an average four or five
ships passed through every day. To-day they took 6,000_l_. at the Suez
Office alone. They have an excellent plan of the Canal there, and
little models of ships, which are arranged according to the telegrams
constantly received, so that the chief officers at each end of the
Canal know exactly where every ship is. Instant information is of
course sent of any stoppage or any accident, but these occur
comparatively seldom. Some time ago M. Lesseps bought a small canal
partially stopped up leading from the Nile at Cairo to Ismailia. It
has been widened and deepened, and was opened a few weeks ago with
great ceremony and grand doings. Now any vessel not drawing more than
fourteen feet can go direct from Suez or Port Said to Cairo. If we had
had time, we might have done it in the yacht, and lain at anchor
almost under the shadow of the Pyramids of Cheops. The special object
of the new canal is to make Cairo and Ismailia Egyptian ports as well
as Alexandria, thereby saving much land carriage and labour of
shifting. Already several ships laden with grain, from Upper Egypt,
have availed themselves of this new means of communication.
_Friday, April 27th_.--Another glorious sunrise. The pilot was on
board at 5 a.m., and the Dhebash with fish, strawberries, and fresh
vegetables. This is a beautiful climate, though there is scarcely any
rain; only one very slight shower has occurred during the last three
years at Suez, but the soil of the desert after the Nile overflow
brings forth tenfold.
The 'Sunbeam' was to start at eight o'clock, as soon as a large vessel
had passed up from Port Said. There are only certain places in the
Canal where vessels can pass one another, so one ship is always
obliged to wait for another. We landed at half-past seven. The sun was
already blazing with a burning fury, and we found it very hot riding
up to the hotel on donkeys. We had an excellent breakfast at the same
comfortable hotel, paid a very moderate bill, and left by the eleven
o'clock train for Cairo. We stopped at Zag-à-zig for an hour for
luncheon in a nice cool dark room, and started again about three
o'clock. The change in the face of the country since we were here
eight years ago is something extraordinary. A vast desert of sand has
been transformed into one large oasis of undulating fields of waving
corn, where there used to be nothing but whirlwinds of sand. All this
has been effected by irrigation. The wealth of Egypt ought greatly to
increase. How the people managed to live before is a mystery. Now
every field is full of labourers reaping and stacking the corn, women
gleaning, and in some places the patient, ugly black buffaloes
ploughing the stubble for fresh crops.
At half-past six we reached Cairo, and were conveyed in a large
_char-à-bancs_ to what was formerly Shepherd's Hotel, now partly
rebuilt and much altered for the better. Even in that short drive we
could see that the face of the capital of Egypt had altered as much
as the country, though I am not sure that it is so greatly improved.
After a refreshing dip in cool marble baths and a change of garments,
we went down to the large _table-d'hôte_. Then we sat in the verandah
looking on the street until we became tired of doing nothing, after
which we started for a stroll in the Ezkebieh gardens close by. They
are beautifully laid out for evening promenade; but although the
flowers are lovely, and the turf, thanks to constant waterings, is
deliciously green, all the large trees have been cut down. There is no
seclusion, no shade, which seems a pity in a country where the
greatest desire of life is shelter from the noonday heat. To-night
both Arab and French bands were playing within the enclosure, and it
was pleasant enough listening to Offenbach's music under the beams of
the full moonlight. Few people appeared to appreciate it, however, for
the gardens were nearly empty; but then the season is over, and every
one has fled before the coming heat.
_Saturday, April 28th_.--We had settled to start at six o'clock this
morning to visit the Pyramids, an excursion which had been for some
little time eagerly looked forward to and talked about by the younger
members of our party. The morning was cold and grey, a strong
northerly wind was blowing, and the change from the weather which had
prevailed but a few hours previously was altogether most striking and
unexpected. We drove rapidly through the streets and the outskirts of
the town, where old houses are being pulled down and new ones rapidly
built up, and where a general air of new bricks and old rubbish
pervades the scene. Then we crossed the Nile by a handsome iron
bridge, and saw the Palace of Gezireh, where the Prince of Wales and
his suite were lodged. We passed the railway extension works, and, to
the great delight of the children, saw two elephants busily employed,
one of which was being made to lie down to enable his mahout to
dismount. Soon the little ones gave a shout of 'The Pyramids!' and
there before us stood those grand monuments of a nameless founder,
which for centuries have stood out in the sands of the desert, while
the burning African sun and the glorious African moon have risen and
set on their heavenward-pointing summits for countless days and
nights. Even the earth has changed her position so much since they
were erected that the pole star no longer sheds its light in a direct
line through the central passages, as it did when first they were
designed.
We drove along under avenues of now leafless trees to the foot of the
hill on which the Pyramids are situated. Here everybody was turned out
to walk except Muriel and me, and a tremendous tug the horses had to
drag even us two up to the real foot of the Pyramids. On arriving we
were at once surrounded by a crowd of Arabs. They are certainly a
fine-looking lot of men, rather clamorous for backshish, and anxious
to sell their curiosities, real or imitation. They were, however,
good-natured, civil, and obliging, and amused me much during the hour
I spent alone with them while the rest of the party were ascending and
descending the Pyramids. Many could speak several languages quite
fluently, and almost all of them took a good deal of interest in the
war, and the prospects of success on either side; while many had a
fair knowledge of the geography of Europe. While all the rest were on
the top of the one large Pyramid, a man ran down from the summit and
up to the top of the next smaller one (which is, however, more
difficult to ascend) in 'eight minutes for a franc' This feat was
repeated several times by different men, but it really occupied nearer
ten minutes.
We ate some bread and wine, bought a few curiosities, and then drove
back to the city, feeling very cold and shivery and regretting the
wraps we had left behind. We reached the hotel just in time for twelve
o'clock _table-d'hôte_ breakfast, and, after an acceptable rest,
sallied forth again, this time on donkeys, to see the bazaars and the
sunset from the citadel. We went across squares and gardens and
through wide streets, for, alas! Cairo is being rapidly Haussmannised.
For the capitalist or resident, Cairo may be improved, but for the
traveller, the artist, the lover of the picturesque, the quaint, and
the beautiful, the place is ruined. Cairo as a beautiful and ancient
oriental city has ceased to exist, and is being rapidly transformed
into a bad imitation of modern Paris, only with bluer skies, a more
brilliant sun, and a more serene climate than it is possible to find
in Europe. Only a few narrow streets and old houses are still left,
with carved wooden lattices, where you can yet dream that the 'Arabian
Nights' are true.
We went to the gold and silver bazaar, and bought some quaint silver
jewellery from Assouan, Soudan, and Abyssinia; then through the
Turkish bazaar, the saddlery bazaars, past mosques and old houses,
till at length we emerged into new squares and new streets, before
climbing the hill to the citadel, the Viceroy's palace, and the
splendid Mosque of Mehemet Ali, built of Egyptian alabaster. The view
from the terrace is superb, over city, desert, river, palm-trees, and
Pyramids. The sunset this evening was a disappointment; yellow, cold,
and watery, a strong north wind bringing up all the sand from the
desert. We returned to the hotel for dinner, and were all glad to go
early to bed.
_Sunday, April 29th_.--The children and I went to the English church,
a semi-Gothic building, without a single window which could open.
Though the church was nearly empty, the air felt like that of an
exhausted receiver, and made one gasp. In the cool of the afternoon we
drove through Roulai, where the museum stands, in a beautiful garden
close by the riverside, amid flowers in full bloom.
After an early meal (hardly to be called dinner) we went to the
station, just as all the people were going for a drive to Shoubrah in
the smartest carriages and the prettiest toilets.
Our journey to Alexandria in the evening was cool and pleasant. A
huge break met us, and we drove to Abbat's Hotel--considerably
improved since our last visit in 1869.
_Monday, April 30th_.--Got up at 5 a.m. After a deliciously soft but
very muddy bath, I went for a donkey ride before breakfast with
Mabelle. Tom arrived from the yacht in time for twelve o'clock
breakfast, and announced the voyage from Port Said to have been rough
and unpleasant.
We called on the Consul, the Vice-Consul, and our old friend, Consul
Burton of Trieste, Haj Abdullah. He has just returned from a journey
through the ancient land of Midian, undertaken at the special request
of the Viceroy. He describes the expedition as having been most
successful; the climate is almost perfect from September to May; the
land is well watered by little streams flowing through fertile
valleys, and full of fragrant flowers and luscious fruits. The corn
reaches above the camel-men's heads, which means a height of fourteen
or fifteen feet. But the mineral wealth of the country is its most
extraordinary feature. He found traces of gold in the sand of the
river-beds, in spots pointed out to him by his fellow-pilgrims on the
way to Mecca twenty years ago, to say nothing of tin, iron, &c.
Perhaps the most interesting part of his discovery was the remains of
eight ruined cities with traces in the dry river-beds of
stone-crushing and gold-seeking apparatus, which must have been used
centuries ago. He is writing a book on the subject, which you may
perhaps see before you read this.
The Consul kindly sent a janissary with us to show us the Sultan's
palace. It is large and bare of furniture; and the general style of
decoration is like that of the palaces at Cherniga and Dolma Batscher.
Thence we went to see Pompey's Pillar and Cleopatra's Needle, the
dahabeas ready to go up the Nile, &c.; and returned to the hotel in
time for dinner and a chat afterwards in the cool courtyard.
_Tuesday, May 1st_.--I wrote from 3 a.m. to 6.30 a.m., in order to
send letters off by the French mail, and at seven Mabelle and I
sallied forth on donkeys to visit the market. There was not much to
see, however, everything being so crowded and jammed up, meat, fish,
vegetables, and fruit, all close together. The crowd was amusing, as
all the European householders had negroes or Arabs following them,
laden with their purchases. We found some lovely flowers in a street
near the market, and then we went on to the big gold and silver
bazaar, and to the Turkish and Syrian bazaars, where we saw all the
specialities of Constantinople, and Broussa, Damascus, and Jerusalem
laid out before us. After breakfast, the antics of two enormous apes,
who came round on a donkey, accompanied by a showman and a boy, amused
the children much. They were hideously ugly, but the cleverest monkeys
I ever saw. They went through a regular little play, quarrelled with
one another; the man and the boy rode the ape, and made him kick; at
last the ape was hurt, and lay fainting in the man's arms, limp and
languid, just able to sip a little water; then he died, and dropped
down stiff, with his eyes shut. His tail was pulled, his lips and
eyelids were forced open, but he never winked an eyelid or moved a
hair of his whiskers. He was thrown about from side to side, remaining
perfectly motionless till, at a sign from his master, he jumped up as
well as ever, shouldered his gun, and mounted his ass to take his
departure. He was promptly ordered to dismount and ask for backshish,
which he did, cap in hand. Some of the crowd round about not
contributing to his master's satisfaction, the ape took a nasty
venomous-looking little snake out of a bag which he carried over his
shoulder, and threw it among the bystanders, to their great
consternation.
At two o'clock we went to lunch with the Consul, and what a pleasant
lunch it was, prepared by a French cook, and eaten in a cool, airy,
and shady room free from flies, which were kept out by fine wire
gauze placed in front of each well-shaded door and window! The table
was one mass of the roses for which Alexandria is so famous. Everybody
had wandered about the world more or less, everybody was in good
spirits, and we laughed and chatted and talked sense or nonsense as
the fancy took us, till it was time to go on board the yacht _en
masse_, and receive some visitors at tea. A few had arrived before us,
but the children and some others of the party were on board and had
been doing the honours and showing them round. About 5.30 p.m. our
last guests departed, and all was ready for a start; but, alas! we had
to wait for an absent steward, who had gone in search of the always
late linen, that plague of the poor yachtsman's life when he has a
large party on board. The sun was sinking fast, the wind was blowing
fresh and fair, and if we did not start soon it would be impossible to
do so at all, and a night's work of more than 120 miles would be lost.
At last the welcome boat was seen coming from the shore; we unmoored,
and went ahead for about an hour. But the light gradually faded away;
it became impossible to distinguish the beacon; the sand banks are
numerous, and there are no lights. It was only endangering the ship
and the lives of all on board to proceed; so the order was reluctantly
given, 'Hard a-port.' Round she went in her own length almost, and
very soon we let go the anchor just outside our old moorings, and
spent the night, after all, in the harbour of Alexandria.