A Damp Seemed To Fall Upon Our Spirits As We Approached This Valley
Perilous.
I remarked that the voices of the women and children sank
into silence, and the loud Labbayk of the pilgrims were gradually
stilled.
Whilst still speculating upon the cause of this phenomenon, it
became apparent. A small curl of the smoke, like a lady’s ringlet, on the
summit of the right-hand precipice, caught my eye; and simultaneous
with the echoing crack of the matchlock, a high-trotting dromedary in
front of me rolled over upon the sands,—a bullet had split its
heart,—throwing the rider a goodly somersault of five or six yards.
Ensued terrible confusion; women screamed, children cried, and men
vociferated, each one striving with might and main to urge his animal
out of the place of death. But the road being narrow, they only managed
to jam the vehicles in a solid immovable mass. At every match-lock
shot, a shudder ran through the huge body, as when the surgeon’s scalpel
touches some more sensitive nerve. The Irregular horsemen, perfectly
useless, galloped up and down over the stones, shouting to and ordering
one another. The Pasha of the army had his carpet spread at the foot of
the left-hand precipice, and debated over his pipe with the officers
what ought to be done. No good genius whispered “Crown the heights.”
Then it was that the conduct of the Wahhabis found favour in my eyes.
They came up, galloping their camels,—
“Torrents less rapid, and less rash,—
with their elf-locks tossing in the wind, and their flaring
[p.144] matches casting a strange lurid light over their features.
Taking up a position, one body began to fire upon the Utaybah robbers,
whilst two or three hundred, dismounting, swarmed up the hill under the
guidance of the Sharif Zayd. I had remarked this nobleman at Al-Madinah
as a model specimen of the pure Arab. Like all Sharifs, he is
celebrated for bravery, and has killed many with his own hand.[FN#24]
When urged at Al-Zaribah to ride into Meccah, he swore that he would
not leave the Caravan till in sight of the walls; and, fortunately for
the pilgrims, he kept his word. Presently the firing was heard far in
our rear, the robbers having fled. The head of the column advanced, and
the dense body of pilgrims opened out. Our forced halt was now
exchanged for a flight. It required much management to steer our
Desert-craft clear of danger; but Shaykh Mas’ud was equal to the
occasion. That many were not, was evident by the boxes and baggage that
strewed the shingles. I had no means of ascertaining the number of men
killed and wounded: reports were contradictory, and exaggeration
unanimous. The robbers were said to be a hundred and fifty in number;
their object was plunder, and they would eat the shot camels. But their
principal ambition was the boast, “We, the Utaybah, on such and such a
[p.145] night, stopped the Sultan’s Mahmil one whole hour in the Pass.”
At the beginning of the skirmish I had primed my pistols, and sat with
them ready for use. But soon seeing that there was nothing to be done,
and wishing to make an impression,—nowhere does Bobadil now “go down” so well
as in the East,—I called aloud for my supper. Shaykh Nur, exanimate with
fear, could not move. The boy Mohammed ejaculated only an “Oh, sir!” and
the people around exclaimed in disgust, “By Allah, he eats!” Shaykh
Abdullah, the Meccan, being a man of spirit, was amused by the
spectacle. “Are these Afghan manners, Effendim?” he enquired from the
Shugduf behind me. “Yes,” I replied aloud, “in my country we always dine
before an attack of robbers, because that gentry is in the habit of
sending men to bed supperless.” The Shaykh laughed aloud, but those
around him looked offended. I thought the bravado this time mal place;
but a little event which took place on my way to Jeddah proved that it
was not quite a failure.
As we advanced, our escort took care to fire every large dry Asclepias,
to disperse the shades which buried us. Again the scene became wondrous
wild:—
“Full many a waste I’ve wander’d o’er,
Clomb many a crag, cross’d many a shore,
But, by my halidome,
A scene so rude, so wild as this,
Yet so sublime in barrenness,
Ne’er did my wandering footsteps press,
Where’er I chanced to roam.”
On either side were ribbed precipices, dark, angry, and towering above,
till their summits mingled with the glooms of night; and between them
formidable looked the chasm, down which our host hurried with shouts
and discharges of matchlocks. The torch-smoke and the night-fires of
flaming Asclepias formed a canopy, sable
[p.146] above and livid red below; it hung over our heads like a sheet,
and divided the cliffs into two equal parts. Here the fire flashed
fiercely from a tall thorn, that crackled and shot up showers of sparks
into the air; there it died away in lurid gleams, which lit up a truly
Stygian scene. As usual, however, the picturesque had its
inconveniences. There was no path. Rocks, stone-banks, and trees
obstructed our passage. The camels, now blind in darkness, then dazzled
by a flood of light, stumbled frequently; in some places slipping down
a steep descent, in others sliding over a sheet of mud. There were
furious quarrels and fierce language between camel-men and their
hirers, and threats to fellow-travellers; in fact, we were united in
discord. I passed that night crying, “Hai! Hai!” switching the camel, and
fruitlessly endeavouring to fustigate Mas’ud’s nephew, who resolutely slept
upon the water-bags. During the hours of darkness we made four or five
halts, when we boiled coffee and smoked pipes; but man and beasts were
beginning to suffer from a deadly fatigue.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 49 of 170
Words from 49291 to 50297
of 175520
