We
Counted Six Swords, Eleven Lances, And A Heap Of Knives, The Number Of
Which I Forget.
I ordered the entire party to stand in a line; and I gave them their
choice, whether the ringleaders would receive a flogging from me, or
whether I should tie them to the tails of camels and lead them to the
Turkish Governor of Souakim?
They immediately chose the former; and,
calling them from the rank, I ordered them to lie down on the ground to
receive punishment.
They submitted like dogs; Richarn and Achmet stood over them with their
whips, ready for the word. At this moment an old white-headed Arab of my
caravan came to me: kneeling down, he stroked my beard with his dirty
hands, and implored pardon for the offenders. Thoroughly understanding
the Arab character, I replied, "They are miserable sons of dogs, and
their swords are like the feathers of a fowl; they deserve flogging, but
when a white head asks for pardon, it should be granted. God is
merciful, and we are all his children." Thus was the affair ended to the
satisfaction of our side. I broke all the lances into fragments upon a
rock, - ordered Zeneb to make a fire with the wood of the handles, to
boil some coffee; and tying the swords into a bundle, we packed the
lance-heads and knives in a basket, with the understanding that they
should be delivered to their owners on our arrival at the last well,
after which point there would be water on the route every day.
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