myself that my throat was as well as ever I remembered it to be, I was
suddenly slapped on the back. Never in my life did I feel a more
pleasant sensation, or turn round with more unaffected delight to return
a friend’s greeting. It was as though a cup of water had been handed to
me in the desert. I knew that a cargo of passengers for Australia had
reached Cairo that morning, and were to be passed on to Suez as soon as
the railway would take them, and did not therefore expect that the
greeting had come from any sojourner in Egypt. I should perhaps have
explained that the even tenor of our life at the hotel was disturbed
some four times a month by a flight through Cairo of a flock of
travellers, who like locusts eat up all that there was eatable at the
Inn for the day. They sat down at the same tables with us, never mixing
with us, having their separate interests and hopes, and being often, as
I thought, somewhat loud and almost selfish in the expression of them.
These flocks consisted of passengers passing and repassing by the
overland route to and from India and Australia; and had I nothing else
to tell, I should delight to describe all that I watched of their habits
and manners--the outward bound being so different in their traits from
their brethren on their return. But I have to tell of my own triumph at
Suez, and must therefore hasten on to say that on turning round quickly
with my outstretched hand, I found it clasped by John Robinson.
“Well, Robinson, is this you?” “Holloa, Walker, what are you doing
here?” That of course was the style of greeting. Elsewhere I should not
have cared much to meet John Robinson, for he was a man who had never
done well in the world. He had been in business and connected with a
fairly good house in Sise Lane, but he had married early, and things had
not exactly gone well with him. I don’t think the house broke, but he
did; and so he was driven to take himself and five children off to
Australia. Elsewhere I should not have cared to come across him, but I
was positively glad to be slapped on the back by anybody on that
landing-place in front of Shepheard’s Hotel at Cairo.
I soon learned that Robinson with his wife and children, and indeed with
all the rest of the Australian cargo, were to be passed on to Suez that
afternoon, and after a while I agreed to accompany their party. I had
made up my mind, on coming out from England, that I would see all the
wonders of Egypt, and hitherto I had seen nothing. I did ride on one day
some fifteen miles on a donkey to see the petrified forest; but the
guide, who called himself a dragoman, took me wrong or cheated me in
some way. We rode half the day over a stony, sandy plain, seeing
nothing, with a terrible wind that filled my mouth with grit, and at
last the dragoman got off. “Dere,” said he, picking up a small bit of
stone, “Dis is de forest made of stone. Carry that home.” Then we turned
round and rode back to Cairo. My chief observation as to the country was
this--that whichever way we went, the wind blew into our teeth. The
day’s work cost me five-and-twenty shillings, and since that I had not
as yet made any other expedition. I was therefore glad of an opportunity
of going to Suez, and of making the journey in company with an
acquaintance.
At that time the railway was open, as far as I remember, nearly half the
way from Cairo to Suez. It did not run four or five times a day, as
railways do in other countries, but four or five times a month. In fact,
it only carried passengers on the arrival of these flocks passing
between England and her Eastern possessions. There were trains passing
backwards and forwards constantly, as I perceived in walking to and from
the station; but, as I learned, they carried nothing but the labourers
working on the line, and the water sent into the Desert for their use.
It struck me forcibly at the time that I should not have liked to have
money in that investment.
Well; I went with Robinson to Suez. The journey, like everything else in
Egypt, was sandy, hot, and unpleasant. The railway carriages were pretty
fair, and we had room enough; but even in them the dust was a great
nuisance. We travelled about ten miles an hour, and stopped about an
hour at every ten miles. This was tedious, but we had cigars with us and
a trifle of brandy and water; and in this manner the railway journey
wore itself away. In the middle of the night, however, we were moved
from the railway carriages into omnibuses, as they were called, and then
I was not comfortable. These omnibuses were wooden boxes, placed each
upon a pair of wheels, and supposed to be capable of carrying six
passengers. I was thrust into one with Robinson, his wife and five
children, and immediately began to repent of my good-nature in
accompanying them. To each vehicle were attached four horses or mules,
and I must acknowledge that as on the railway they went as slow as
possible, so now in these conveyances, dragged through the sand, they
went as fast as the beasts could be made to gallop. I remember the Fox
Tally-ho coach on the Birmingham road when Boyce drove it, but as
regards pace the Fox Tally-ho was nothing to these machines in Egypt. On
the first going off I was jolted right on to Mrs. R. and her infant; and
for a long time that lady thought that the child had been squeezed out
of its proper shape; but at last we arrived at Suez, and the baby seemed
to me to be all right when it was handed down into the boat at Suez.
The Robinsons were allowed time to breakfast at that cavernous
hotel--which looked to me like a scheme to save the expense of the
passengers’ meal on board the ship--and then they were off. I shook
hands with him heartily as I parted with him at the quay, and wished him
well through all his troubles. A man who takes a wife and five young
children out into a colony, and that with his pockets but indifferently
lined, certainly has his trouble before him. So he has at home, no
doubt; but, judging for myself, I should always prefer sticking to the
old ship as long as there is a bag of biscuits in the locker. Poor
Robinson! I have never heard a word of him or his since that day, and
sincerely trust that the baby was none the worse for the little accident
in the box.
And now I had the prospect of a week before me at Suez, and the
Robinsons had not been gone half an hour before I began to feel that I
should have been better off even at Cairo. I secured a bedroom at the
hotel--I might have secured sixty bedrooms had I wanted them--and then
went out and stood at the front door, or gate. It is a large house,
built round a quadrangle, looking with one front towards the head of the
Red Sea, and with the other into and on a sandy, dead-looking, open
square. There I stood for ten minutes, and finding that it was too hot
to go forth, returned to the long cavernous room in which we had
breakfasted. In that long cavernous room I was destined to eat all my
meals for the next six days. Now at Cairo I could, at any rate, see my
fellow-creatures at their food. So I lit a cigar, and began to wonder
whether I could survive the week. It was now clear to me that I had done
a very rash thing in coming to Suez with the Robinsons.
Somebody about the place had asked me my name, and I had told it
plainly--George Walker. I never was ashamed of my name yet, and never
had cause to be. I believe at this day it will go as far in Friday
Street as any other. A man may be popular, or he may not. That depends
mostly on circumstances which are in themselves trifling. But the value
of his name depends on the way in which he is known at his bank. I have
never dealt in tea spoons or gravy spoons, but my name will go as far as
another name. “George Walker,” I answered, therefore, in a tone of some
little authority, to the man who asked me, and who sat inside the gate
of the hotel in an old dressing-gown and slippers.
That was a melancholy day with me, and twenty times before dinner did I
wish myself back at Cairo. I had been travelling all night, and
therefore hoped that I might get through some little time in sleeping,
but the mosquitoes attacked me the moment I laid myself down. In other
places mosquitoes torment you only at night, but at Suez they buzz
around you, without ceasing, at all hours. A scorching sun was blazing
overhead, and absolutely forbade me to leave the house. I stood for a
while in the verandah, looking down at the few small vessels which were
moored to the quay, but there was no life in them; not a sail was set,
not a boatman or a sailor was to be seen, and the very water looked as
though, it were hot. I could fancy the glare of the sun was cracking the
paint on the gunwales of the boats. I was the only visitor in the house,
and during all the long hours of the morning it seemed as though the
servants had deserted it.
I dined at four; not that I chose that hour, but because no choice was
given to me. At the hotels in Egypt one has to dine at an hour fixed by
the landlord, and no entreaties will suffice to obtain a meal at any
other. So at four I dined, and after dinner was again reduced to
despair.
I was sitting in the cavernous chamber almost mad at the prospect of the
week before me, when I heard a noise as of various feet in the passage
leading from the quadrangle. Was it possible that other human beings
were coming into the hotel--Christian human beings at whom I could look,
whose voices I could hear, whose words I could understand, and with whom
I might possibly associate? I did not move, however, for I was still
hot, and I knew that my chances might be better if I did not show myself
over eager for companionship at the first moment. The door, however, was
soon opened, and I saw that at least in one respect I was destined to be
disappointed. The strangers who were entering the room were not
Christians--if I might judge by the nature of the garments in which they
were clothed.
The door had been opened by the man in an old dressing-gown and
slippers, whom I had seen sitting inside the gate. He was the Arab
porter of the hotel, and as he marshalled the new visitors into the
room, I heard him pronounce some sound similar to my own name, and
perceived that he pointed me out to the most prominent person of those
who then entered the apartment. This was a stout, portly man, dressed
from head to foot in Eastern costume of the brightest colours. He wore,
not only the red fez cap which everybody wears--even I had accustomed
myself to a fez cap--but a turban round it, of which the voluminous
folds were snowy white. His face was fat, but not the less grave, and
the lower part of it was enveloped in a magnificent beard, which
projected round it on all sides, and touched his breast as he walked. It
was a grand grizzled beard, and I acknowledged at a moment that it added
a singular dignity to the appearance of the stranger. His flowing robe
was of bright colours, and the under garment which fitted close round
his breast, and then descended, becoming beneath his sash a pair of the
loosest pantaloons--I might, perhaps, better describe them as bags--was
a rich tawny silk. These loose pantaloons were tied close round his
legs, above the ankle, and over a pair of scrupulously white stockings,
and on his feet he wore a pair of yellow slippers. It was manifest to me
at a glance that the Arab gentleman was got up in his best raiment, and
that no expense had been spared on his suit.
And here I cannot but make a remark on the personal bearing of these
Arabs. Whether they be Arabs or Turks, or Copts, it is always the same.
They are a mean, false, cowardly race, I believe. They will bear blows,
and respect the man who gives them. Fear goes further with them than
love, and between man and man they understand nothing of forbearance.
He who does not exact from them all that he can exact is simply a fool
in their estimation, to the extent of that which he loses. In all this,
they are immeasurably inferior to us who have had Christian teaching.
But in one thing they beat us. They always know how to maintain their
personal dignity.
Look at my friend and partner Judkins, as he stands with his hands in
his trousers pockets at the door of our house in Friday Street. What can
be meaner than his appearance? He is a stumpy, short, podgy man; but
then so also was my Arab friend at Suez. Judkins is always dressed from
head to foot in a decent black cloth suit; his coat is ever a dress
coat, and is neither old nor shabby. On his head he carries a shining
new silk hat, such as fashion in our metropolis demands. Judkins is
rather a dandy than otherwise, piquing himself somewhat on his apparel.
And yet how mean is his appearance, as compared with the appearance of
that Arab;--how mean also is his gait, how ignoble his step! Judkins
could buy that Arab out four times over, and hardly feel the loss; and
yet were they to enter a room together, Judkins would know and
acknowledge by his look that he was the inferior personage. Not the
less, should a personal quarrel arise between them, would Judkins punch
the Arab’s head; ay, and reduce him to utter ignominy at his feet.
Judkins would break his heart in despair rather than not return a blow;
whereas the Arab would put up with any indignity of that sort.
Nevertheless Judkins is altogether deficient in personal dignity. I
often thought, as the hours hung in Egypt, whether it might not be
practicable to introduce an oriental costume in Friday Street.
At this moment, as the Arab gentleman entered the cavernous coffee-room,
I felt that I was greatly the inferior personage. He was followed by
four or five others, dressed somewhat as himself, though by no means in
such magnificent colours, and by one gentleman in a coat and trousers.
The gentleman in the coat and trousers came last, and I could see that
he was one of the least of the number. As for myself, I felt almost
overawed by the dignity of the stout party in the turban, and seeing
that he came directly across the room to the place where I was seated, I
got upon my legs and made him some sign of Christian obeisance. I am a
little man, and not podgy, as is Judkins, and I flatter myself that I
showed more deportment, at any rate, than he would have exhibited.
I made, as I have said, some Christian obeisance. I bobbed my head,
that is, rubbing my hands together the while, and expressed an opinion
that it was a fine day. But if I was civil, as I hope I was, the Arab
was much more so. He advanced till he was about six paces from me, then
placed his right hand open upon his silken breast, and inclining forward
with his whole body, made to me a bow which Judkins never could
accomplish. The turban and the flowing robe might be possible in Friday
Street, but of what avail would be the outer garments and mere symbols,
if the inner sentiment of personal dignity were wanting? I have often
since tried it when alone, but I could never accomplish anything like
that bow. The Arab with the flowing robe bowed, and the other Arabs all
bowed also; and after that the Christian gentleman with the coat and
trousers made a leg. I made a leg also, rubbing my hands again, and
added to my former remarks that it was rather hot.
“Dat berry true,” said the porter in the dirty dressing-gown, who stood
by. I could see at a glance that the manner of that porter towards me
was greatly altered, and I began to feel comforted in my wretchedness.
Perhaps a Christian from Friday Street, with plenty of money in his
pockets, would stand in higher esteem at Suez than at Cairo. If so, that
alone would go far to atone for the apparent wretchedness of the place.
At Cairo I had not received that attention which had certainly been due
to me as the second partner in the flourishing Manchester house of
Grimes, Walker, and Judkins.
But now, as my friend with the beard again bowed to me, I felt that this
deficiency was to be made up. It was clear, however, that this new
acquaintance, though I liked the manner of it, would be attended with
considerable inconvenience, for the Arab gentleman commenced an address
to me in French. It has always been to me a source of sorrow that my
parents did not teach me the French language, and this deficiency on my
part has given rise to an incredible amount of supercilious overbearing
pretension on the part of Judkins--who after all can hardly do more than
translate a correspondent’s letter. I do not believe that he could have
understood that Arab’s oration, but at any rate I did not. He went on to
the end, however, speaking for some three or four minutes, and then
again he bowed. If I could only have learned that bow, I might still
have been greater than Judkins with all his French.
“I am very sorry,” said I, “but I don’t exactly follow the French
language when it is spoken.”
“Ah! no French!” said the Arab in very broken English, “dat is one
sorrow.” How is it that these fellows learn all languages under the sun?
I afterwards found that this man could talk Italian, and Turkish, and
Armenian fluently, and say a few words in German, as he could also in
English. I could not ask for my dinner in any other language than
English, if it were to save me from starvation. Then he called to the
Christian gentleman in the pantaloons, and, as far as I could
understand, made over to him the duty of interpreting between us. There
seemed, however, to be one difficulty in the way of this being carried
on with efficiency. The Christian gentleman could not speak English
himself. He knew of it perhaps something more than did the Arab, but by
no means enough to enable us to have a fluent conversation.
And had the interpreter--who turned out to be an Italian from Trieste,
attached to the Austrian Consulate at Alexandria--had the interpreter
spoken English with the greatest ease, I should have had considerable
difficulty in understanding and digesting in all its bearings, the
proposition made to me. But before I proceed to the proposition, I must
describe a ceremony which took place previous to its discussion. I had
hardly observed, when first the procession entered the room, that one of
my friend’s followers--my friend’s name, as I learned afterwards, was
Mahmoud al Ackbar, and I will therefore call him Mahmoud--that one of
Mahmoud’s followers bore in his arms a bundle of long sticks, and that
another carried an iron pot and a tray. Such was the case, and these two
followers came forward to perform their services, while I, having been
literally pressed down on to the sofa by Mahmoud, watched them in their
progress. Mahmoud also sat down, and not a word was spoken while the
ceremony went on. The man with the sticks first placed on the ground two
little pans--one at my feet, and then one at the feet of his master.
After that he loosed an ornamented bag which he carried round his neck,
and producing from it tobacco, proceeded to fill two pipes. This he did
with the utmost gravity, and apparently with very peculiar care. The
pipes had been already fixed at one end of the stick, and to the other
end the man had fastened two large yellow balls. These, as I afterwards
perceived, were mouth-pieces made of amber. Then he lit the pipes,
drawing up the difficult smoke by long painful suckings at the
mouthpiece, and then, when the work had become apparently easy, he
handed one pipe to me, and the other to his master. The bowls he had
first placed in the little pans on the ground.
During all this time no word was spoken, and I was left altogether in
the dark as to the cause which had produced this extraordinary courtesy.
There was a stationary sofa--they called it there a divan--which was
fixed into the corner of the room, and on one side of the angle sat
Mahmoud al Ackbar, with his feet tucked under him, while I sat on the
other. The remainder of the party stood around, and I felt so little
master of the occasion, that I did not know whether it would become me
to bid them be seated. I was not master of the entertainment. They were
not my pipes. Nor was it my coffee, which I saw one of the followers
preparing in a distant part of the room. And, indeed, I was much
confused as to the management of the stick and amber mouth-piece with
which I had been presented. With a cigar I am as much at home as any man
in the City. I can nibble off the end of it, and smoke it to the last
ash, when I am three parts asleep. But I had never before been invited
to regale myself with such an instrument as this. What was I to do with
that huge yellow ball? So I watched my new friend closely.
It had manifestly been a part of his urbanity not to commence till I had
done so, but seeing my difficulty he at last raised the ball to his
mouth and sucked at it. I looked at him and envied the gravity of his
countenance, and the dignity of his demeanour. I sucked also, but I made
a sputtering noise, and must confess that I did not enjoy it. The smoke
curled gracefully from his mouth and nostrils as he sat there in mute
composure. I was mute as regarded speech, but I coughed as the smoke
came from me in convulsive puffs. And then the attendant brought us
coffee in little tin cups--black coffee, without sugar and full of grit,
of which the berries had been only bruised, not ground. I took the cup
and swallowed the mixture, for I could not refuse, but I wish that I
might have asked for some milk and sugar. Nevertheless there was
something very pleasing in the whole ceremony, and at last I began to
find myself more at home with my pipe.
When Mahmoud had exhausted his tobacco, and perceived that I also had
ceased to puff forth smoke, he spoke in Italian to the interpreter, and
the interpreter forthwith proceeded to explain to me the purport of this
visit. This was done with much difficulty, for the interpreter’s stock
of English was very scanty--but after awhile I understood, or thought I
understood, as follows:--At some previous period of my existence I had
done some deed which had given infinite satisfaction to Mahmoud al
Ackbar. Whether, however, I had done it myself, or whether my father
had done it, was not quite clear to me. My father, then some time
deceased, had been a wharfinger at Liverpool, and it was quite possible
that Mahmoud might have found himself at that port. Mahmoud had heard of
my arrival in Egypt, and had been given to understand that I was coming
to Suez--to carry myself away in the ship, as the interpreter phrased
it. This I could not understand, but I let it pass. Having heard these
agreeable tidings--and Mahmoud, sitting in the corner, bowed low to me
as this was said--he had prepared for my acceptance a slight refection
for the morrow, hoping that I would not carry myself away in the ship
till this had been eaten. On this subject I soon made him quite at ease,
and he then proceeded to explain that as there was a point of interest
at Suez, Mahmoud was anxious that I should partake of the refection
somewhat in the guise of a picnic, at the Well of Moses, over in Asia,
on the other side of the head of the Red Sea. Mahmoud would provide a
boat to take across the party in the morning, and camels on which we
would return after sunset. Or else we would go and return on camels, or
go on camels and return in the boat. Indeed any arrangement would be
made that I preferred. If I was afraid of the heat, and disliked the
open boat, I could be carried round in a litter. The provisions had
already been sent over to the Well of Moses in the anticipation that I
would not refuse this little request.
I did not refuse it. Nothing could have been more agreeable to me than
this plan of seeing something of the sights and wonders of this
land,--and of this seeing them in good company. I had not heard of the
Well of Moses before, but now that I learned that it was in Asia,--in
another quarter of the globe, to be reached by a transit of the Red Sea,
to be returned from by a journey on camels’ backs,--I burned with
anxiety to visit its waters. What a story would this be for Judkins!
This was, no doubt, the point at which the Israelites had passed. Of
those waters had they drunk. I almost felt that I had already found one
of Pharaoh’s chariot wheels. I readily gave my assent, and then, with
much ceremony and many low salaams, Mahmoud and his attendant left me.
“I am very glad that I came to Suez,” said I to myself.
I did not sleep much that night, for the mosquitoes of Suez are very
persevering; but I was saved from the agonising despair which these
animals so frequently produce, by my agreeable thoughts as to Mahmoud al
Ackbar. I will put it to any of my readers who have travelled, whether
it is not a painful thing to find one’s-self regarded among strangers
without any kindness or ceremonious courtesy. I had on this account been
wretched at Cairo, but all this was to be made up to me at Suez. Nothing
could be more pleasant than the whole conduct of Mahmoud al Ackbar, and
I determined to take full advantage of it, not caring overmuch what
might be the nature of those previous favours to which he had alluded.
That was his look-out, and if he was satisfied, why should not I be so
also?