A Wooden
Framework, Pierced With Circular Apertures, Supported A Number Of
Porous Earthenware Gullehs (Gargoulettes, Or Monkey Jars) Full Of
Cold,
sweet water; the charge for each was, as usual in Al-Hijaz, five paras.
Such was the furniture of
The cafe, and the only relief to the
barrenness of the view was a fine mellowing atmosphere composed of
smoke, steam,
[p.216] flies, and gnats in about equal proportions. I have been
diffuse in my description of the coffee-house, as it was a type of its
class: from Alexandria to Aden the traveller will everywhere meet with
buildings of the same kind.
Our happiness in this Paradise-for such it was to us after the "Golden
Wire"-was nearly sacrificed by Sa'ad the Demon, whose abominable temper
led him at once into a quarrel with the master of the cafe. And the
latter, an ill-looking, squint-eyed, low-browed, broad-shouldered
fellow, showed himself nowise unwilling to meet the Demon half way. The
two worthies, after a brief bandying of bad words, seized each other's
throats leisurely, so as to give the spectators time and encouragement
to interfere. But when friends and acquaintances were hanging on to
both heroes so firmly that they could not move hand or arm, their
wrath, as usual, rose, till it was terrible to see. The little village
resounded with the war, and many a sturdy knave rushed in, sword or
cudgel in hand, so as not to lose the sport. During the heat of the
fray, a pistol which was in Omar Effendi's hand went off-accidentally
of course-and the ball passed so close to the tins containing the black
and muddy Mocha, that it drew the attention of all parties. As if by
magic, the storm was lulled. A friend recognised Sa'ad the Demon, and
swore that he was no black slave, but a soldier at Al-Madinah-"no
waiter, but a Knight Templar." This caused him to be looked upon as
rather a distinguished man, and he proved his right to the honour by
insisting that his late enemy should feed with him, and when the other
decorously hung back, by dragging him to dinner with loud cries.
My alias that day was severely tried. Besides the Persian pilgrims, a
number of nondescripts who came in the same vessel were hanging about
the coffee-house; lying down, smoking, drinking water, bathing and
picking their teeth with their daggers. One inquisitive man
[p.217] was always at my side. He called himself a Pathan (Afghan
settled in India); he could speak five or six languages, he knew a
number of people everywhere, and he had travelled far and wide over
Central Asia. These fellows are always good detectors of an incognito.
I avoided answering his question about my native place, and after
telling him that I had no longer name or nation, being a Darwaysh, I
asked him, when he insisted upon my having been born somewhere, to
guess for himself. To my joy he claimed me for a brother Pathan, and in
course of conversation he declared himself to be the nephew of an
Afghan merchant, a gallant old man who had been civil to me at Cairo.
We then sat smoking together with "effusion." Becoming confidential, he
complained that he, a Sunni, or orthodox Moslem, had been abused,
maltreated, and beaten by his fellow-travellers, the heretical Persian
pilgrims. I naturally offered to arm my party, to take up our cudgels,
and to revenge my compatriot. This thoroughly Sulaymanian style of
doing business could not fail to make him sure of his man. He declined,
however, wisely remembering that he had nearly a fortnight of the
Persians' society still to endure. But he promised himself the
gratification, when he reached Meccah, of sheathing his Charay[FN#13]
in the chief offender's heart.
At 8 A.M.} on the 14th July we left Al-Wijh, after passing a night,
tolerably comfortable by contrast, in the coffee-house. We took with us
the stores necessary, for though our Rais had promised to anchor under
Jabal Hassani that evening, no one believed him. We sailed among ledges
of rock, golden sands, green weeds, and in some places through yellow
lines of what appeared to me at a distance foam after a storm. All day
a sailor sat upon the masthead, looking at the water, which was
transparent as blue glass, and shouting out the direction. This
precaution was somewhat stultified by the roar of voices, which never
[p.218] failed to mingle with the warning, but we wore every half hour,
and we did not run aground. About midday we passed by Shaykh Hasan
al-Marabit's tomb. It is the usual domed and whitewashed building,
surrounded by the hovels of its guardians, standing upon a low flat
island of yellow rock, vividly reminding me of certain scenes in Sind.
Its dreary position attracts to it the attention of passing travellers;
the dead saint has a prayer and a Fatihah for the good of his soul, and
the live sinner wends his way with religious refreshment.
Near sunset the wind came on to blow freshly, and we cast anchor
together with the Persian pilgrims upon a rock. This was one of the
celebrated coral reefs of the Red Sea, and the sight justified
Forskal's emphatic description-luxus lususque naturae. It was a huge
ledge or platform rising but little above the level of the deep; the
water-side was perpendicular as the wall of a fort; and, whilst a
frigate might have floated within a yard of it, every ripple dashed
over the reef, replenishing the little basins and hollows in the
surface. The colour of the waves near it was a vivid amethyst. In the
distance the eye rested upon what appeared to be meadows of brilliant
flowers resembling those of earth, only far brighter and more lovely.
Nor was this Land of the Sea wholly desolate. Gulls and terns here swam
the tide; there, seated upon the coral, devoured their prey.
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