THE HARBOUR OF ALEXANDRIA--MR. FURNER--SCENE AT THE HARD--A DONKEY
STAND--TRIUMPHAL ENTRY INTO THE GREAT SQUARE--THE “INDIA AGENCY”--THE
ENGLISH OKELLA--PLAGUE SEALS--CONFIDENTIAL TALK--MR. RAVEN--HASSAN,
THE DRAGOMAN--THE BAZAARS--ARAB SHOPKEEPERS--THE HARRAAT--POMPEY’S
PILLAR--THE BATHS OF CLEOPATRA.
We reached Alexandria on the 2nd of July, and long before our paddles
had ceased moving, we were besieged by a clamorous set of savages in
boats, who, clinging to the sides of our vessel, were plentifully
greeted with hot water, by the captain’s order, and compelled to
retire to a respectful distance, whilst they kept up a continued
fire of Arabic, and caused us no little amusement. This was my first
introduction to the Modern Egyptians, and when I looked from these
half-naked fellows to the shore, and saw the long row-range of
sand-hills, and the dismal looking habitations that studded the sides
of the harbour, I thought my lines could hardly be said to be cast in
pleasant places. Much time was not, however, given me for reflection,
as the dropping of the anchor soon aroused me from my reverie. The
passengers got away in small parties, reaching the shore in boats,
and I was leaning over the ship’s side to make my selection, when a
big-whiskered Frank underneath, startled me with a “Hallo! there; are
you for Waghorn?” My reply was followed by an invitation to get into
his boat. As we rowed ashore, I found that I had fallen into the hands
of Mr. Furner, the very man of whom Portenier had made mention as his
_locum tenens_.
I shall never forget the scene that awaited us on landing at the
hard. Camels, donkeys, merchandize of every description, shrieking
women, boys, and greasy Arabs, were jumbled together in indescribable
confusion; the men fighting and cuffing one another, with the most
violent gesticulations, in their anxiety to appropriate the luggage
of the newly arrived passengers, in order to convey it to the city.
Furner, armed with a huge whip, which I learnt to call by the name of
“_Korbash_,” dealt his blows right and left on the heads and shoulders
of the natives, and speedily cleared a way for us to where a group of
donkeys were standing, all saddled and bridled. My friend, selecting
the two which he considered the best, told me to mount; an injunction
which I mechanically obeyed, for I scarcely knew what I was doing, and
was querying with myself whether my Ramsgate and Blackheath experience
in donkey-exercise would avail me aught on the present occasion. The
saddles were of stuffed carpet, and very high, and my stirrup-leather
broke with me on getting up, an accident no sooner remarked by Furner,
than my donkey-boy was rewarded with a little of the “korbash.” To
tie it up again, was the work of a moment, and then off we went at a
gallop, with a boy at each tail, through some narrow streets, between
high walls, where, in addition to the exertion required in keeping my
seat, I had continually to bob my head to avoid being knocked off my
perch by some passing camel, which, with its ponderous and enormous
load, would fill up the whole of the street. Ever and anon, my
donkey-boy, by a fearful thwack “_a posteriori_,” would give my animal
a right or left-handed bias, sufficient almost to make me lose my
equilibrium, while Furner, who rode behind, could scarce keep his seat
for laughter. Five minutes hard riding brought us into the middle of
a crowded bazaar, and we were forced to relapse into a trot, our boys
clearing a space before us by repeated cries of “_shimalek! aminak!
ariglak!_”[1] &c. The scrambling about of the poor Arab women, in their
efforts to get out of the way, was at once ludicrous and painful; and I
was unfeignedly glad when we suddenly emerged into the great square
of Alexandria, and pulled up at the door of “Waghorn’s India agency.”
[Illustration: THE AUTHOR’S ENTRY INTO ALEXANDRIA.]
Hitherto, I had had little or no opportunity of saying anything
respecting my own business, to Furner, who had very naturally taken
me for an India-bound passenger, and it was, therefore, with some
degree of surprise that he perused Mr. Waghorn’s letter to Portenier.
I was saved for the moment from the deluge of questions with which he
seemed ready to overwhelm me, by his suddenly calling to mind that it
was considerably past his ordinary breakfast hour; and having learned
just enough to satisfy him that I was a duly accredited agent of the
“Overland,” he politely asked me to share his morning meal. He was
living, he said, in one of Waghorn’s houses in the English “okella,”
where, as Portenier was away, there would be ample room for me, and
thither accordingly, he sent my portmanteau. Crossing the Great Square,
and entering a large gateway, we ascended to a covered gallery,
extending round the inner sides of the “_okella_,” and forming a sort
of common hall of entrance to the numerous houses therein comprised.
I remarked on each door that we passed, one or more spots of red
wax. This, Furner informed me, was the plague-seal, placed there by
the authorities, to prevent the egress of the inmates, though he
immediately relieved my now critically sensitive nerves, by adding,
that they were at least of two years’ standing.
Furner’s dwelling consisted of a large upper-floor of five rooms, with
kitchen and servants’ rooms above, the whole sumptuously furnished
according to the Eastern notions of comfort, with elegant divans and
polished stone floors. I was too hungry on entering to take more than
a hasty survey of what I saw, the more especially as sundry tempting
looking dishes of novel appearance stood ready on the breakfast table,
beside a noble Britannia metal tea-pot, which possessed for me a
peculiar charm, after having been debarred for a whole week from a
taste of the grateful infusion. As we refreshed ourselves, I acquainted
Furner with the circumstances under which I had arrived in Egypt,
detailing to him my engagement with Mr. Waghorn, and receiving in
return a description of my future companions in office, with divers
hints of a friendly nature as to the position I ought to take up among
them. This I found to be chiefly regulated by the nature of our several
engagements, and had the satisfaction of learning from Furner that
I was appointed to as good a post as any one, and equal in point of
emolument to that of any English _employè_ in Egypt.
We had scarcely finished our meal, when a loud thumping at the
outer-door announced a visitor. This proved to be Mr. Raven, the
resident partner, fresh from Cairo, to whom I was forthwith introduced.
This gentleman was, in the first instance connected with a Mr. Hill,
who is since deceased, and has done a great deal towards establishing
and improving the communication between Cairo and Suez, having been
indeed, in conjunction with his late associate, one, if not _the_
projector of the original Transit Company. It needed however the
enterprizing spirit and untiring perseverance of Mr. Waghorn, before
the undertaking could be brought to assume any thing like a flourishing
appearance; and now that the energies of both are united in one common
object, the Egyptian portion of the Overland journey is as perfect as
individuals[2] can make it.
From Mr. Raven, who had been apprised by letter of my anticipated
arrival, I received orders to await the arrival of the next steamer
from Southampton, and conduct the passengers to Cairo, which would, he
added, give me a tolerably good insight into the routine of business.
As it wanted nearly a fortnight to such time, I found I should have
ample leisure to make myself acquainted with Alexandria, and to pick
up, if possible, some few sentences of Arabic. For this purpose I
enlisted into my service the most sagacious of our Dragomen, whom I
found a very useful and intelligent fellow. As he possessed a good
knowledge of English, he served me as a walking lexicon, and would
render for me the more familiar words and sentences, taking great pains
to ensure their correct accent.
Our first day’s ramble was confined pretty much to the Bazaars, which
form the stranger’s chief object of attraction in an oriental town.
Different quarters are devoted to the sale of the various sorts of
merchandize, and you may pass successively through an avenue of
tailors’ shops, a street of dried dates and quaint-looking groceries, a
gaudy labyrinth of rugs and prayer-carpets, and a lane of pipe-sticks
and tobacco shops. These are for the most part protected from the
sun by a loose boarding over head, devoid of all nails or fastening,
so that in blusterous weather, the passer-by is occasionally greeted
with a falling plank or stray piece of timber, dislodged by the wind.
It requires also considerable caution in threading your way through
these narrow passages, as in endeavouring to avoid the heavy tread of
a laden camel, you are possibly knocked down by a donkey, or receive
an unwelcome salute in the side or stomach from the bony knee of its
rider, who passes quickly onward without a murmur of apology.
The shops which compose these Bazaars, are neither more nor less than
large wooden boxes, ranged along a raised platform on either side
the way, open only in front, and furnished with shutters and wooden
locks, which are secured at night and during the _siesta_. Some
have a neat sort of railing, and are provided with little seats and
stuffed cushions, to which a purchaser to any considerable extent is
immediately invited and served with a _chibouke_. During the puffing
that ensues, the buyer and seller are occupied in settling the price of
the required commodity, the one offering half as much as he intends to
give, and the other asking double what he thinks of taking, so that,
at the end may be of half-an-hour, they contrive to meet, and a little
cup of thick unsweetened coffee from a neighbouring shop, completes
the bargain. The purchaser is expected to give a trifling present to
the servant of the merchant, who helps him on with his slippers, left
during the interview, in the street below.
The “Harraat,” or walking-auction, forms a most amusing scene, and
in order to view it to the best advantage, Hassan got me a seat on
the divan of one of his acquaintance in the Bazaar. The goods to be
disposed of, are held at arm’s length above the head, and as soon
as the owner has obtained a reasonable offer, he rushes up and down
the Bazaar shouting “harraat, harraat!” getting every now and then a
fresh bid until he finds no one is inclined to advance, when he is
compelled to let his wares go to the last bidder. In this manner I
saw silver-mounted pistols sold for fifteen shillings the pair; Arab
scymitars, jackets and waistcoats embroidered with lace, scarfs,
ink-stands, and red caps, and some amber mouth-pieces; of these some
would fetch their full value, whilst others would go for a mere song:
and on the whole I would rather purchase in the “harraat,” than run the
risk of a lengthy bargain at a shop.
In the evening, Furner insisted on my taking another lesson in
donkey-riding, so selecting two of the best looking from the _stand_
close to our office door, we cantered through the square towards
Cleopatra’s Needle, which forms a prominent object on the sea-shore,
just outside the town. On our way, we passed through a dirty Arab
village, where we were besieged by a crowd of urchins who begged of
and then threw stones at us. We were compelled to gallop away as fast
as our donkeys would go, to get out of the reach of the heavy missiles
with which they occasionally obliged us, though had their numbers
been less formidable, it is probable we should have stood our ground
and shewed fight. For this sort of reception we were indebted to our
Frank costume; for I found a few weeks afterwards, when I had adopted
the dress of the country, that I could pass the same spot, and others
equally notorious, unmolested.
From the Needles, we made a long round to Pompey’s Pillar and the Baths
of Cleopatra. There is a good view from the base of the former over
the Mahmoudieh Canal, which fertilizes in its course a narrow strip
of country, and studded as it mostly is with numerous sails, forms a
curious feature in the landscape. The pillar stands out in solitary
grandeur from a vast plain of ruins and tombs, the site of ancient
Alexandria. Hard by is a little building bearing some resemblance to
a temple; this is a refuge for hard-pressed debtors, a strong-hold
against all pursuit, and so long as they remain under its friendly
shelter, neither law nor remorseless creditor has power to lay hands
upon them. Our road to what are said to be the Baths of Cleopatra, lay
through a bustling and most dirty street of low Arab dwellings, to a
kind of quay or shipping place for corn, near to which is a group of
quaint looking wind-mills with six or eight sails each, the whole in
full motion, spinning round with a rushing noise that sorely alarmed
our poor donkeys, although it served to prove to us that there was at
least no lack of corn in Egypt. A dusty gallop of another mile then
brought us to the shore, where we tethered our beasts, and proceeded to
examine the spot where it is alleged that the “Queen of Beauty” used to
perform her ablutions. The Baths consist of three or four rocky caves
open to the sea, where sheltered from the scorching rays of the sun,
the water acquires an enticing temperature, and ripples in and out at a
depth of several feet. Close by the Baths, in a sandy cliff, are some
excavations of prodigious size, which an old Arab informed us were
Catacombs, but as they contain no bones or relics of mortality, and do
not even boast of a stray skull or two, he found us somewhat sceptical;
the old man conducted us through the outermost apartments, but having
no candles, and the evening closing in, we could see but little of
their dimensions, so pitching him a few paras we hastened homewards.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] “To the left; to the right; mind your legs!”
[2] Since leaving Egypt, I have learnt that the whole concern has
passed into other and more powerful hands, who, by the employment of
considerable capital, have succeeded in facilitating the passage of
travellers across the Isthmus.