In The Even, When We Returned To Our Tent, A Syrian, One Of Our Party
On The Poop, Came Out
To meet us with the information that several
large vessels had arrived from Suez, comparatively speaking, empty, and
that the
Captain of one of them would land us at Yambu' for three
dollars a head. The proposal was tempting. But presently it became
apparent that my companions were unwilling to shift their precious
boxes, and moreover, that I should have to pay for those who could not
or would not pay for themselves,-that is to say, for the whole party.
As such a display of wealth would have been unadvisable, I dismissed
the idea with a sigh. Amongst the large vessels was one freighted with
Persian pilgrims, a most disagreeable race of men on a journey or a
voyage. They would not land at first, because they feared the Badawin.
They would not take water from the town people, because some of these
were Christians. Moreover, they insisted upon making their own call to
prayer, which heretical proceeding-it admits five extra words-our
party, orthodox Moslems, would rather have died than have permitted.
When their crier, a small wizen-faced man, began the Azan with a voice
"in quel tenore
Che fa il cappon quando talvolta canta,"
we received it with a shout of derision, and some, hastily
[p.206] snatching up their weapons, offered him an opportunity of
martyrdom. The Maghrabis, too, hearing that the Persians were Rafaz
(heretics) crowded fiercely round to do a little Jihad, or Fighting for
the Faith.
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