AN ADVENTURE
We are late, very late, the moon is rising and I must confess I am just
a wee bit uneasy. When we reached Haifa safely last night, coming from
Nazareth, and found we couldn't get a steamer till to-morrow it seemed
the best thing to drive across the bay and get a look at Acre, that
celebrated town which has spent its existence in the turmoil of sieges
and assaults. It is a great fort built out into the sea, and nearly
everyone who wanted to get possession of the Holy Land has tried first
to take Acre as the key to it. One of the most memorable sieges was that
of two years in the reign of our own King Richard I., who ended it by
arriving with fresh troops and helping his allies the French; but it is
reckoned the two countries, between them, lost 100,000 men, one way and
another, before they took the stubborn town. After that it remained in
English hands for a century.
The Turks held it in much later times against Buonaparte; they were
helped by an Englishman, Sir Sydney Smith, and if Acre is celebrated for
nothing else it should be celebrated for the fact that it held out for
sixty-one days against Buonaparte, who was in the end obliged to give
up and go away!
[Illustration: WOMEN WITH BUNDLES, WHICH THEY ALWAYS THINK NECESSARY TO
DRAG ABOUT WITH THEM.]
We drove this morning, with three horses abreast, across the twelve
miles of sandy bay between Haifa and Acre, in one of the ramshackle
waggonettes that take the place of omnibuses and carry any passengers
who want to go. We came with numbers of natives, chiefly women, and
innumerable bundles and bags, which they always think it necessary to
drag about with them. We did not get here till midday, and after
spending a few hours we had seen all we cared to of the place, and were
ready to go back. But in the East things are not done like that. So we
waited and waited long after the hour the omnibus was said to return,
and when at last the driver did saunter up, the scarecrow horses had to
be sought for, and then the harness, of course, had to be mended with
string, and that wasn't nearly the end, because, after waiting again a
long time for nothing at all that anyone could see, a Turkish woman who
was evidently of some consequence, attended by a maid and quantities of
baggage, came up, and everyone had to turn out until all her things were
stowed away. So it was nearly nightfall before we got off.
The sands are in most places firm and make good going, but a couple of
rivers run down across them to the sea; one of these is that "ancient
river, the river Kishon," mentioned in Deborah's song of triumph when
the Israelites had overcome their enemies. These rivers have to be
crossed with care, and, not so long ago, some people got bogged and were
set upon by robbers and stripped, and one was drowned by the incoming
tide; but I ought not to tell you these things. We are half across now,
and the moon is getting high, so we shall have more light presently.
Bump! The horse on the off-side runs out of his traces suddenly and
stands facing the other one in a sort of mild amazement. The harness has
given way once more. Grumbling and growling the driver climbs down and
pulls him back and goes on muttering to himself. Far off the lapping of
the water is heard out at sea; it wouldn't do to be caught by the tide
in this situation, but they tell us the tide has not turned yet. The
moon sheds a curious unearthly light that fills the air with mystery.
The long low sandhills on the shore show up plainly, and nearer there
are countless wrecks which have been piled up on this desolate coast.
That large one, nearest of all, looks just like the huge up-curving ribs
of some mammoth that has had the flesh picked clean from his bones.
Look! There is something moving close to it, in the shadow; what is it?
It comes out a little way into the light, it is a furtive-looking
little four-footed creature whose fur shines with a reddish tinge; there
is another, peeping out from the sandhills, and another and another!
They are all over, but so silent and light-footed are they that it is
difficult to believe them to be anything but shadows. A wave of the hand
and they have disappeared! They are jackals, inquisitively watching us
with their bright eyes. Nothing to be afraid of. They dare not attack a
man if he is alive, though they would gleefully devour him dead. They
are much more frightened of you than you are of them. Weird, shy,
furtive little beasts. One can imagine them on a night like this playing
games and chasing one another in and out of the ribs of the drowned ship
in a sort of witches' dance.
Heigho! Well, we're on again at last.
We journey at a foot's pace for another mile or so and the lights of
Haifa begin to shine out clearly ahead, when all of a sudden the
carriage seems to be going down on one side. The two Turkish women, who
are on the high side, roll violently down on to us, screaming and
sobbing hysterically. I don't know what you feel like, but I am nearly
smothered by the flowing shawls and the strong smell of scent; when I
manage to get free I find that you have disappeared altogether till I
get hold of a leg and jerk you forth.
The carriage has gone further and further over; the horses are splashing
and struggling; and as we stand up the middle one goes down and
disappears altogether. The water must be deep and we are evidently in
the river.
There is nothing for it but to go to the driver's help, so I leave you
to reassure the ladies and get up to my waist almost at once as we pull
the horse's head above water, while the sand slips away beneath our
feet. The poor beast, after desperate kickings, gets on to his legs
again, but no effort of ours can move the carriage, which seems to be
sinking deeper and deeper. With the struggles of the horses the harness
has all come to bits again, and the poor, mild, dismayed creatures turn
round, quite free from their trappings, and look at the vehicle as much
as to say, "What a shabby trick you have served us!"
The driver brings the horses alongside, and the bundle of scented
wrappings, which is the more important lady, is lifted on the back of
one. The man himself gets up behind her to hold her on, and when she
feels his wet embrace she raises a perfect storm of shrieks as if she
were being carried away by a robber. He takes not the slightest notice,
but solemnly sets his horse's head to the shore, and they splash away.
By yourself you have managed to land on to the back of the next horse,
and before you have time to turn round or do anything to help with the
other lady, the horse kicks up its heels, sending you shooting on to its
neck, and whinnying wildly scrambles off after its comrade. The Turkish
lady's companion makes no fuss at all about coming with me. She slips on
to the remaining horse as if she were used to riding all her life, and,
sitting astride like a man, holds him in until I mount behind. It is
lucky indeed this animal has no spirit left, or she and I would have
been stranded!
At this rate we shall soon reach Haifa.
When we do get there what a chattering and what excitement!
Unfortunately, as we can't speak the native tongue, we miss most of it,
but the excited gestures and loud voices show that we are heroes indeed.
Next morning I find myself none the worse for my wetting, and before we
leave we have the satisfaction of seeing all the bundles and packages
belonging to the ladies safely recovered. But we gather that the
waggonette remains immovable. We can see it, far off, partly surrounded
by the swirling water like a little black island. The united strength
of a dozen men and six horses have been unable to pull it on to firm
ground. There it will stay till it rots, in the midst of the stranded
ships, and the little soft-footed shadowy jackals will dance around it
and tell one another strange tales of that wonderful night when the air
was shaken by piercing screams, and strange heavy animals galloped
across the sands, making them shake and quiver, and yet, after it all,
there was nothing left for them to eat!
[Illustration: THE SHIPS SEEM TO BE GLIDING ALONG THE TOP OF A
SANDBANK.]