DESERT FARE--THE BAWAUB--NO. 4 STATION--A SIESTA--THE SOLITARY
TREE--PESTILENTIAL BREEZES--A DRY WELL--SUEZ--WAGHORN’S HOTEL--THE
“BERENICE”--RETURN TO CAIRO--A THIRSTY DRIVER--COOL RECEPTION AT A
WARM BATH--THE PENDANT RAG.
But to return to our caravan, which we left on the margin of the
desert. Our rate of travelling was about five miles in the hour, for
the track, which in some places, lay over a smooth and tolerably hard
gravel, was at others exchanged for a loose sand, in which our wheels
became buried to the depth of a foot or more, causing a deal of labour
to our horses. At such times, our Seis, or running-footman, one of whom
accompanies each carriage, would apply his shoulder to the wheel and
help us over the soft spot, whilst on occasions we found it necessary
altogether to alight, and unite our efforts. We changed horses at No.
1 Station, which is nine miles from Cairo, and a mere stable, reaching
No. 2, at about ten o’clock. This is a building containing a large
saloon, with divans and a long table, three sleeping rooms, kitchen,
&c., and here we found a good supper laid out, consisting of smoking
dishes of Irish stew, cold turkeys and fowls, and eggs _à discretion_.
During the meal, I was beckoned out of the room by the head driver,
Mr. Hill,[8] to debate as to the length of time we should allow for
resting. As there was a full change of horses for each carriage, I
considered it would be as well to make the most of the cool night air,
and secure a long halt the next day at the centre Station, and our
passengers concurring in this idea, we were soon again _en route_.
No. 3 Station is a repetition of No. 1, being only a stable, tenanted
by one old melancholy Arab, who, on our arrival, was found squatted
over his little fire of camel’s dung, upon which he was baking his
evening cake of Indian corn. This, with his pipe, and a drink of water,
forms his only food. In the morning, in his scriptural little mill of
two flat stones, he grinds sufficient flour to last him through the
day, tasting nought else until his return to the city, which takes
place when the transit season is over. Such, at least is the old
fellow’s own account of himself; but as very few who cross the desert,
pass by a Station without a call, it is more than probable, that he
picks up something, more palatable than maise-bread, in return for the
sundry half-pints of water and handsful of corn, which he distributes,
sub-rosâ, among his Bedouin friends.
[Illustration: A HALT IN THE DESERT.]
Early on the following morning, we came in sight of No. 4, the centre
Station, forty-one miles from Cairo, which, with the one solitary tree
that stands near it, is visible nearly six miles before it is made.
This is a resting-place of much more pretensions than the others,
having an upper-story, with a ricketty flight of stone-steps, and a
tolerably spacious court-yard below, where, at the time of our arrival,
a queer-looking sheep, and some lean shrivelled fowls were sniffing
and pecking about, and scraping up their last earthly meal, whilst
a turkey-cock, perched on an empty _cafass_ or hamper, was dismally
sounding his death-rattle. The live stock, and eatables of all sorts
are brought from Cairo in sufficient quantity to supply the larders of
all the Stations for several weeks, but occasionally, when the number
of passengers to and fro is very large, a sort of famine takes place,
and we have been compelled to subsist for a time upon dates and other
dried fruits, of which there is always a good store; the change of diet
proving rather agreeable than otherwise. Chickens, very lean and tough,
and roasted to dryness, are a standing dish in Egypt, and these with
the larger sorts of fowl, and plenty of curries and Irish-stew, form
the principal fare of the desert.[9] A second course generally makes
its appearance at dinner in the shape of huge rice-puddings, or a sort
of sweetmeat called _mish-mish_, a favourite dish of the Arabs.
On arriving at No. 4, we found that the cool night air had given us
considerable appetite, and our ablutions performed, there was a general
rush to the long table in the common room, where sundry tea-pots
and coffee-biggins were soon in rapid circulation, and boiled eggs
disappeared by the score; bread there was none, as that becomes too
much dried up by the heat when carried across the desert, but hard
biscuits we found to be an excellent substitute, and the Egyptian
butter is delicious. Breakfast over, I spread my carpet on the top of
a long wooden sideboard, and soon fell fast asleep--my example being
followed by the others who disposed themselves to rest, some in the
bed-rooms, and others on the divans which extend round three sides
of the room. In the middle of the day the heat was excessive--the
thermometer standing at 100° of Fahrenheit--and the slight breath
of air which was stirring outside was so very far preferable to the
confined heat of the rooms, that I left my hard couch for a little
patch of shade under one of the carts, where I was soon joined by one
of my fellow-travellers, with whom I whiled away the hours in chat,
until summoned by Ibraham the cook to another trial of his culinary art.
At the approach of evening, the horses were again attached to their
respective carts or vans, and after some little jibbing on the part
of the poor animals, who were evidently averse to moving, we were
again upon the desert. The road near the centre Station is hard and
gravelly, and affords most easy travelling for the first mile or
two. We passed within a stone’s throw of the solitary tree before
alluded to, with its sun-burnt branches all festooned with rags; the
followers of the prophet who pass this object on their pilgrimages to
Mecca, hang thereon an old shoe or some portion of a garment by way of
peace-offering. If the wind is stirring, it is quite as well to take
the weather-side of this hanging mass of old clothes, for as there are
few devotees who care to part with anything really serviceable, the
breezes which come athwart the tree are by no means of the most balmy.
About a quarter of a mile to the southward of this pestilential
landmark, is a pit in the sand, of enormous dimensions, excavated by
the French in the vain hope of obtaining water. Two or three of us
went so far just to gratify our curiosity, but were obliged to use
extreme caution in approaching the edge of the pit. Its diameter is so
great that the well, although one hundred and fifty feet deep, appears
rather shallow than otherwise, and the section of the ground exhibits
a succession of layers of fine sand and gravel, but without the least
appearance of water. Two or three dead animals, for which the well had
served as a pitfall, lay at the bottom.
The road to No. 5 Station is scarcely to be distinguished, as the
ground is so hard as to take no impress of wheels, and there would be
great difficulty in making it out at all, were it not for the dead and
dying camels and blanched skeletons, which strew the path and serve as
finger-posts. Should a camel drop through exhaustion, and there be no
means at hand of relieving it, the Bedouin removes its load, which is
distributed among the others, and the poor beast is left to die, for to
shorten its miseries by a _coup de grace_, would be at variance with
the law of Mahomet. This is the more to be regretted as these animals
are peculiarly tenacious of life, and when left in this manner, are
sure to fall a prey to the jackal and vulture, who feast upon the
body before life is extinct. A sly bullet from my carbine has often
terminated the agonies of such as I have found thus abandoned in my
frequent journeys, when I could use it without fear of detection, for
the Arabs will not lightly pass over an infringement of their law in
this particular; and as they have, if so inclined, the power of causing
us much trouble, I have invariably sought to be on the best terms with
them.
Passing the next Station, a mere stable, and still keeping between the
two lines of hills, which increase in height as you approach Suez, we
came suddenly upon No. 6, where, as it was now ten o’clock, we had to
arouse the inmates. This Station is the counterpart of No. 2, and was
tenanted by an agreeable and pretty Englishwoman, who, having in haste,
united herself to an Arab, was now in the solitude of the desert,
repenting at her leisure. Under her good care we remained several
hours, doing ample justice to a plentiful supper, and refreshing
ourselves with a comfortable nap. It was therefore broad daylight
when we reached the well of brackish water, and came in sight of the
walls of Suez, a desolate and miserable town, where there is no water,
save that of the Red Sea, and such as is afforded by a casual shower,
and not the most remote appearance of vegetation in any shape. The
inhabitants, who appear to live exclusively upon fish, and dried fruits
from the interior, consist principally of Jewish merchants and small
Arab traders, for there is considerable traffic between Suez and the
shores of the Red Sea, especially with Aden and Missouah, which latter,
is the chief port of Abyssinia. The Indian steamers come up to within
three or four miles of the town, and obtain a tolerably safe anchorage
outside a perilous bar, which entirely prevents any nearer approach
for vessels drawing more than five feet of water. Communication is
effected, and merchandize shipped, by means of small lateen-rigged
boats, which, if the wind be contrary, are also managed by oars; but in
a high sea, I have sometimes been as long as six hours in getting out
to the steamer.
Waghorn’s hotel is a quaint-looking low building close to the water’s
edge, containing accommodation for thirty or forty people, and is
managed by a clean bustling Englishwoman and her nephew. Two hundred
yards or so nearer the gate, stands the old hotel, used only on
extraordinary occasions, or when the steamer, not true to her time,
causes a meeting at Suez between the India-bound passengers and those
returning homewards. The little square before the door was filled as
we drove up, with the baggage camels, which having disposed of their
burdens in various heaps upon the ground, were now quietly chewing
the cud, and resting themselves after their weary march, while their
drivers were lolling near, either shrouded in their bernous cloaks
and fast asleep, or lazily getting their morning meal. Portmanteaus,
bullock-trunks, sword-cases, and three-cornered hat-boxes, with all
the innumerable etceteras in the way of baggage, comprising an Indian
outfit, lay scattered about in wild confusion, and it required no
little skill on the part of our drivers to manage a four-in-hand
through such a sea of valuables. Fortunately for myself, the boxes
containing the mails lay all in one heap close to the door of the
hotel, so that my task of counting and checking them was more easily
accomplished than I had anticipated. Consigning them, therefore,
into the hands of Mr. Manson, the agent at Suez, and obtaining from
him a suitable receipt, I was left to discuss an excellent “dejeuner
a-la-fourchette,” provided for me by the good-natured landlady, of whom
I had contrived to get the blind side, by the opportune present of a
few English needles which I happened to have in my valise.
I learned, on inquiry of the agent, that the “Berenice” Bombay
steamer, which had the day before landed two or three homeward-bound
passengers, and was now lying smoking at her anchorage, was to start at
five in the afternoon; and as the shipment of the mails and luggage is
a work of time and labour, the sooner they were got off the better. I
found this by no means an unpleasant part of my duty, for as there was
a delightful breeze blowing, and the weather of the finest, the sail
down the arm of the gulf into the open water, was extremely pleasant.
By six o’clock every one was on board, and the “Berenice” under weigh;
and at midnight, I had turned my back upon Suez, with the now nearly
empty carriages, for there were only three passengers, and as it so
happened that neither of these contemplated reaching Alexandria in time
for the English steamer, there was no occasion for any extraordinary
dispatch. We therefore jogged along quietly enough, and for the first
few stages, I found an amusing companion in my driver, a countryman of
my own, who, having been long resident in Egypt, was able to afford
me a good deal of information. He was, however, no follower of Father
Mathew, and falling into the popular error that brandy is the best and
safest restorative in a hot climate, he indulged in such repeated pulls
at the black bottle, that on leaving No. 4 Station, he was compelled to
resign the reins to the attendant _Seis_, and sleep away the effect of
his potations at the bottom of the cart.
Resting during the hottest part of the day, we reached Cairo at the
close of the second afternoon, where having consigned my travelling
companions to the attentions of the head waiter, I paid my respects
to Mr. Raven, whom I found entertaining a large party of his English
friends, resident in Egypt. Pleading my travel-worn and dusty
condition, for he was leading me in to present me to the ladies, as
a late arrival from England, I begged him to direct me to some good
bath, where I could indulge in the luxuries of soap and hot water.
“There was a good one,” he said, “at the end of the first Bazaar,”
whither accordingly I bent my steps, and passing under a narrow stone
gateway, from whence thin clouds of steam were issuing into upper air,
I was making my way through a damp passage, when I suddenly found
myself arrested by the gripe of a fierce-looking Abyssinian slave,
who luckily perceiving that I was a stranger, drew me back again into
the street with much gesticulation, and pointing to a dirty rag which
hung suspended over the door-way, like a paviour’s wisp, gave me a
shove, which sent me reeling into the Bazaar, considerably surprised
at the curious mode of reception practised at a public Hammam. I had
scarcely recovered my scattered senses, when a Frank tailor, who had
seen the transaction, and evidently pitied my dilemma, emerged from his
little shop, and explained to me that the pendant rag was exhibited as
a sign, to show that the bath was at such times in the occupation of
the ladies, and that in fact the hareem of some great man had but a
short time before engaged the establishment. My forcible ejection was,
therefore, no longer a matter of surprise, the only wonder being, that
I had escaped so cheaply from the hands of the dusky Cerberus on guard.
My new friend, the tailor, now directed me to another bath at a little
distance off, where I had no difficulty in effecting an entrance, as
this time, and indeed always afterwards, I took especial care to look
out for the rag! Although the Turkish bath has been so often described,
as to have rendered its peculiarities familiar, I shall scarcely
feel satisfied to give a casual glance only at this most gratifying
of luxuries, and shall, therefore, simply relate my own experience,
without venturing to hope that I may furnish anything very new upon the
subject.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] A brother of the late Mr. Hill, before alluded to.
[9] I once met with a “loin of camel,” at No. 4 Station, a _pièce de
resistance_, I am not ambitious of tasting a second time.