About Five Hours
Afterwards We Crossed A High Ridge, And Saw Below Us The Camp Of The
Caravan, Not More Than Two Miles Distant.
As we approached it, a figure
came running out to meet us.
It was the boy Mohammed, who, heartily
tired of riding a dromedary with his friend, and possibly hungry,
hastened to inform my companion Abdullah that he would lead him to his
Shugduf and to his son. The Shaykh, a little offended by the fact that
for two days not a friend nor an acquaintance had taken the trouble to
see or to inquire about him, received Mohammed roughly; but the youth,
guessing the grievance, explained it away by swearing that he and all
the party had tried in vain to find us. This wore the semblance of
truth: it is almost impossible to come upon any one who strays from his
place in so large and motley a body.
[p.136]At eleven A.M. we had reached our station. It is about
wenty-four miles from Al-Ghadir, and its direction is South-east ten
degrees. It is called Al-Birkat (the Tank), from a large and now
ruinous cistern built of hewn stone by the Caliph Harun.[FN#11] The
land belongs to the Utaybah Badawin, the bravest and most ferocious
tribe in Al-Hijaz; and the citizens denote their dread of these
banditti by asserting that to increase their courage they drink their
enemy’s blood.[FN#12] My companions shook their heads when questioned
upon the subject, and prayed that we might not become too well
acquainted with them—an ill-omened speech!
The Pasha allowed us a rest of five hours at Al-Birkat: we spent them
in my tent, which was crowded with Shaykh Abdullah’s friends. To requite
me for this inconvenience, he prepared for me an excellent water-pipe,
a cup of coffee, which, untainted by cloves and by cinnamon, would have
been delicious, and a dish of dry fruits. As we were now near the Holy
City, all the Meccans were busy canvassing for lodgers and offering
their services to pilgrims. Quarrels, too, were of hourly occurrence.
In our party was an Arnaut, a white-bearded old man, so
[p.137] decrepit that he could scarcely stand, and yet so violent that
no one could manage him but his African slave, a brazen-faced little
wretch about fourteen years of age. Words were bandied between this
angry senior and Shaykh Mas’ud, when the latter insinuated sarcastically,
that if the former had teeth he would be more intelligible. The Arnaut
in his rage seized a pole, raised it, and delivered a blow which missed
the camel-man, but, which brought the striker headlong to the ground.
Mas’ud exclaimed, with shrieks of rage, “Have we come to this, that every
old-woman Turk smites us?” Our party had the greatest trouble to quiet
the quarrel[l]ers. The Arab listened to us when we threatened him with
the Pasha.
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