THE BLACK TENTS
MY steps were reluctantly turned towards the north. I had ridden some
way, and still it seemed that all life was fenced and barred out from the
desolate ground over which I was journeying. On the west there flowed
the impassable Jordan, on the east stood an endless range of barren
mountains, and on the south lay that desert sea that knew not the
plashing of an oar; greatly therefore was I surprised when suddenly there
broke upon my ear the long, ludicrous, persevering bray of a donkey. I
was riding at this time some few hundred yards ahead of all my party
except the Nazarene (who by a wise instinct kept closer to me than to
Dthemetri), and I instantly went forward in the direction of the sound,
for I fancied that where there were donkeys, there too most surely would
be men. The ground on all sides of me seemed thoroughly void and
lifeless, but at last I got down into a hollow, and presently a sudden
turn brought me within thirty yards of an Arab encampment. The low black
tents which I had so long lusted to see were right before me, and they
were all teeming with live Arabs—men, women, and children.
I wished to have let my party behind know where I was, but I recollected
that they would be able to trace me by the prints of my horse’s hoofs in
the sand; and having to do with Asiatics, I felt the danger of the
slightest movement which might be looked upon as a sign of irresolution.
Therefore, without looking behind me, without looking to the right or to
the left, I rode straight up towards the foremost tent. Before this was
strewed a semi-circular fence of dead boughs, through which there was an
opening opposite to the front of the tent. As I advanced, some twenty or
thirty of the most uncouth-looking fellows imaginable came forward to
meet me. In their appearance they showed nothing of the Bedouin blood;
they were of many colours, from dingy brown to jet black, and some of
these last had much of the negro look about them. They were tall,
powerful fellows, but awfully ugly. They wore nothing but the Arab
shirts, confined at the waist by leathern belts.
I advanced to the gap left in the fence, and at once alighted from my
horse. The chief greeted me after his fashion by alternately touching
first my hand and then his own forehead, as if he were conveying the
virtue of the touch like a spark of electricity. Presently I found
myself seated upon a sheepskin, which was spread for me under the sacred
shade of Arabian canvas. The tent was of a long, narrow, oblong form,
and contained a quantity of men, women, and children so closely huddled
together, that there was scarcely one of them who was not in actual
contact with his neighbour. The moment I had taken my seat the chief
repeated his salutations in the most enthusiastic manner, and then the
people having gathered densely about me, got hold of my unresisting hand
and passed it round like a claret jug for the benefit of everybody. The
women soon brought me a wooden bowl full of buttermilk, and welcome
indeed came the gift to my hungry and thirsty soul.
After some time my party, as I had expected, came up, and when poor
Dthemetri saw me on my sheepskin, “the life and soul” of this ragamuffin
party, he was so astounded, that he even failed to check his cry of
horror; he plainly thought that now, at last, the Lord had delivered me
(interpreter and all) into the hands of the lowest Philistines.
Mysseri carried a tobacco-pouch slung at his belt, and as soon as its
contents were known the whole population of the tent began begging like
spaniels for bits of the beloved weed. I concluded from the abject
manner of these people that they could not possibly be thoroughbred
Bedouins, and I saw, too, that they must be in the very last stage of
misery, for poor indeed is the man in these climes who cannot command a
pipeful of tobacco. I began to think that I had fallen amongst thorough
savages, and it seemed likely enough that they would gain their very
first knowledge of civilisation by ravishing and studying the contents of
my dearest portmanteaus, but still my impression was that they would
hardly venture upon such an attempt. I observed, indeed, that they did
not offer me the bread and salt which I had understood to be the pledges
of peace amongst wandering tribes, but I fancied that they refrained from
this act of hospitality, not in consequence of any hostile determination,
but in order that the notion of robbing me might remain for the present
an “open question.” I afterwards found that the poor fellows had no
bread to offer. They were literally “out at grass.” It is true that
they had a scanty supply of milk from goats, but they were living almost
entirely upon certain grass stems, which were just in season at that time
of the year. These, if not highly nourishing, are pleasant enough to the
taste, and their acid juices come gratefully to thirsty lips.