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. There was a pretty opening of backwood at the bottom of the
[p.221] cove; and palm trees in the blue distance gladdened our eyes,
which pined for the sight of something green. The Rais, as usual, would
have terrified us with a description of the Hutaym tribe that holds
these parts, and I knew from Welsted and Moresby that it is a debased
race. But forty-eight hours of cramps on board ship would make a man
think lightly of a much more imminent danger.
Wading to shore we cut our feet with the sharp rocks. I remember to
have felt the acute pain of something running into my toe: but after
looking at the place and extracting what appeared to be a bit of
thorn,[FN#17] I dismissed the subject, little guessing the trouble it
was to give me. Having scaled the rocky side of the cove, we found some
half-naked Arabs lying in the shade; they were unarmed, and had nothing
about them except their villainous countenances wherewith to terrify
the most timid.