Most Of Us Thought
Lightly Of These Terrors, But Our Valorous Captain Swore That He Dared
Not For His Life
Cross in such a storm the mouth of ill-omened Akabah.
We breakfasted, therefore, and afterwards set out to visit
Moses' Hot
Baths, mounted on wretched donkeys with pack-saddles, ignorant of
stirrups, and without tails, whilst we ourselves suffered generally
from boils, which, as usual upon a journey, make their appearance in
localities the most inconvenient. Our road lay northward across the
plain towards a long narrow strip of date ground, surrounded by a
ruinous mud wall. After a ride of two or three miles, we entered the
gardens, and came suddenly upon the Hammam. It is a prim little Cockney
bungalow, built by Abbas Pasha of Egypt for his own accommodation;
glaringly whitewashed, and garnished with diwans and calico curtains of
a gorgeous hue. The guardian had been warned of our visit, and was
present to supply us with bathing-cloths and other necessaries. One by
one we entered the cistern, which is now in an inner room. The water is
about four feet deep, warm in winter, cool in summer, of a
saltish-bitter taste, but celebrated for its invigorating qualities,
when applied externally. On one side of the calcareous rock, near the
ground, is the hole opened for the spring by Moses' rod, which must
have been like the "mast of some tall
[p.204] Ammiral[FN#22]"; and near it are the marks of Moses' nails-deep
indentations in the stone, which were probably left there by some
extinct Saurian. Our Cicerone informed us that formerly the
finger-marks existed, and that they were long enough for a man to lie
in. The same functionary attributed the sanitary properties of the
spring to the blessings of the Prophet, and, when asked why Moses had
not made sweet water to flow, informed us that the Great Lawgiver had
intended the spring for bathing in, not for drinking. We sat with him,
eating the small yellow dates of Tur, which are delicious, melting like
honey in the mouth, and leaving a surpassing arriere gout. After
finishing sundry pipes and cups of coffee, we gave the bath-man a few
piastres, and, mounting our donkeys, started eastward for the Bir
Musa,[FN#23] which we reached in half an hour. It is a fine old work,
built round and domed over with roughly squared stones, very like what
may be seen in some rustic parts of Southern England. The sides of the
pit were so rugged that a man could climb down them, and at the bottom
was a pool of water, sweet and abundant. We had intended to stay there,
and to dine al fresco, but the hated faces of our companions, the
Maghrabis, meeting us at the entrance, nipped that project in the bud.
Accordingly we retired from the burning
[p.205] sun to a neighbouring coffee-house-a shed of palm leaves kept
by a Tur man, and there, seated on mats, we demolished the contents of
our basket.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 141 of 302
Words from 73663 to 74176
of 157964
