The
deep[FN#15]"-brilliant flashes of phosphoric light giving an idea of
splendour which Art would vainly strive to imitate. Altogether it was a
bit of fairyland, a spot for nymphs and sea-gods to disport upon: you
might have heard, without astonishment, old Proteus calling his flocks
with the writhed conch; and Aphrodite seated in her shell would have
been only a fit and proper climax for its loveliness.
But-as philosophically remarked by Sir Cauline the Knyghte-
"Every whyte must have its blacke,
And every sweete its soure-"
this charming coral reef was nearly being the scene of an ugly
accident. The breeze from seaward set us slowly but steadily towards
the reef, a fact of which we soon became conscious. Our anchor was not
dragging; it had not rope enough to touch the bottom, and vainly we
sought for more. In fact the "Golden Wire" was as disgracefully
deficient in all the appliances of safety, as any English merchantman
in the nineteenth century,-a circumstance which accounts for the
shipwrecks and for the terrible loss of life perpetually occurring
about the Pilgrimage-season in these seas. Had she struck upon the
razor-like edges of the coral-reef, she would have melted
[p.220] away like a sugar-plum in the ripple, for the tide was rising
at the time. Having nothing better to do, we began to make as much
noise as possible. Fortunately for us, the Rais commanding the
Persian's boat was an Arab from Jeddah; and more than once we had
treated him with great civility. Guessing the cause of our distress, he
sent two sailors overboard with a cable; they swam gallantly up to us;
and in a few minutes we were safely moored to the stern of our useful
neighbour. Which done, we applied ourselves to the grateful task of
beating our Rais, and richly had he deserved it. Before noon, when the
wind was shifting, he had not once given himself the trouble to wear;
and when the breeze was falling, he preferred dosing to taking
advantage of what little wind remained. With energy we might have been
moored that night comfortably under the side of Hassani Island, instead
of floating about on an unquiet sea with a lee-shore of coral-reef
within a few yards of our counter.
At dawn the next day (15th July) we started. We made Jabal
Hassani[FN#16] about noon, and an hour or so before sunset we glided
into Marsa Mahar. Our resting-place resembled Marsa Dumayghah at an
humble distance; the sides of the cove, however, were bolder and more
precipitous. The limestone rocks presented a peculiar appearance; in
some parts the base and walls had crumbled away, leaving a coping to
project like a canopy; in others the wind and rain had cut deep holes,
and pierced the friable material with caverns that looked like the work
of art.
