Fair Visions Of Dates Doomed To The Limbo Of Things Which Should Have
Been!
The grey dawn (8th July) looked down upon us in difficulties.
The
water is deep near this coast; we had anchored at high tide close to
the shore, and the ebb had left us high and dry. When this fact became
apparent, a storm was upon the point of breaking. The Maghrabis, but
for our interference, would have bastinadoed the Rais, who, they said
with some reason, ought to have known better. When this phase of
feeling passed away, they applied themselves to physical efforts. All
except the women and children, who stood on the shore encouraging their
relatives with shrill quaverings, threw themselves into the water; some
pushed, others applied their shoulders to the vessel's side, and all
used their lungs with might and main. But the "Golden Wire" was firmly
fixed, and their exertions were too irregular. Muscular force failed,
upon which they changed their tactics. At the suggestion of their
"Maula," they prepared to burn incense in honour of the Shaykh Abu
Zulaymah. The material not being forthcoming, they used coffee, which
perhaps accounts for the shortcomings of that holy man. After this the
Rais remembered that their previous exertions had not begun under the
auspices of the Fatihah. Therefore they prayed, and then reapplied
themselves to work. Still they failed. Finally, each man called aloud
upon his own particular saint or spiritual guide, and rushed forward as
if he alone sufficed for the exploit. Shaykh Hamid unwisely quoted the
name, and begged the assistance, of his great ancestor, the
"Clarified-Butter-Seller"; the obdurate "Golden Wire" was not moved,
and Hamid retired in momentary confusion.
It was now about nine A.M., and the water had risen
[p.201] considerably. My morning had been passed in watching the influx
of the tide, and the grotesque efforts of the Maghrabis. When the
vessel showed some symptoms of unsteadiness, I arose, walked gravely up
to her, ranged the pilgrims around her with their shoulders to the
sides, and told them to heave with might when they heard me invoke the
revered name of my patron saint. I raised my hands and voice; "Ya Piran
Pir! Ya Abd al-Kadir Jilani[FM#20]" was the signal. Each Maghrabi
worked like an Atlas, the "Golden Wire" canted half over, and, sliding
heavily through the sand, once more floated off into deep water. This
was generally voted a minor miracle, and the Effendi was respected-for
a day or two.
The wind was fair, but we had all to re-embark, an operation which went
on till noon. After starting I remarked the natural cause which gives
this Birkat Faraun-"Pharaoh's Bay,"-a bad name. Here the gulf narrows;
and the winds, which rush down the clefts and valleys of the lofty
mountains on the Eastern and Western shores, meeting tides and
counter-currents, cause a perpetual commotion. That day the foam-tipped
waves repeatedly washed over my cot, by no means diminishing its
discomforts. In the evening, or rather late in the afternoon, we
anchored, to our infinite disgust, under a ridge of rocks, behind which
lies the plain of Tur. The Rais deterred all from going on shore by
terrible stories about the Badawin that haunt the place, besides which
there was no sand to sleep upon. We remained, therefore, on board that
night; and, making sail early the next morning, we threaded through
reefs and sand-banks about noon into the intricate and dangerous
entrance of Tur.
Nothing can be meaner than the present appearance of the old Phoenician
colony, although its position as a
[p.202] harbour, and its plentiful supply of fruit and fresh water,
make it one of the most frequented places on the coast. The only
remains of any antiquity-except the wells-are the fortifications which
the Portuguese erected to keep out the Badawin. The little town lies
upon a plain that stretches with a gradual rise from the sea to the
lofty mountain-axis of the Sinaitic group. The country around
reminded me strongly of maritime Sind; a flat of clay and sand, clothed
with sparse turfs of Salsolae, and bearing strong signs of a
(geologically speaking) recent origin. The town is inhabited
principally by Greek and other Christians,[FN#21] who live by selling
water and provisions to ships. A fleecy cloud hung lightly over the
majestic head of Jabal Tur, about eventide, and the outlines of the
giant hills stood "picked out" from the clear blue sky. Our Rais,
weather-wise man, warned us that these were indications of a gale, and
that, in case of rough weather, he did not intend to leave Tur. I was
not sorry to hear this. We had passed a pleasant day, drinking sweet
water, and eating the dates, grapes, and pomegranates, which the people
of the place carry down to the beach for the benefit of hungry
pilgrims. Besides which, there were various sights to see, and with
these we might profitably spend the morrow. We therefore pitched the
tent upon the sand, and busied ourselves with
[p.203] extricating a box of provisions: the labour was rendered
lighter by the absence of the Maghrabis, some of whom were wandering
about the beach, whilst others had gone off to fill their bags with
fresh water. We found their surliness insufferable; even when we were
passing from poop to forecastle, landing or boarding, they grumbled
forth their dissatisfaction.
Our Rais was not mistaken in his prediction. The fleecy cloud on Tur's
tops had given true warning. When morning (9th July) broke, we found
the wind strong, and the sea white with foam. 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.
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