Indeed, I Felt
Quite Good-Humouredly Towards My Arabs, Because They Had So
Woefully Failed In Their Wretched Attempt, And Because, As It
Turned Out, I Had Done What Was Right.
They too, poor fellows,
evidently began to like me immensely, on account of the hard-
heartedness which had enabled me to baffle their scheme.
The Arabs adhere to those ancestral principles of bread-baking
which have been sanctioned by the experience of ages. The very
first baker of bread that ever lived must have done his work
exactly as the Arab does at this day. He takes some meal and holds
it out in the hollow of his hands, whilst his comrade pours over it
a few drops of water; he then mashes up the moistened flour into a
paste, which he pulls into small pieces, and thrusts into the
embers. His way of baking exactly resembles the craft or mystery
of roasting chestnuts as practised by children; there is the same
prudence and circumspection in choosing a good berth for the
morsel, the same enterprise and self-sacrificing valour in pulling
it out with the fingers.
The manner of my daily march was this. At about an hour before
dawn I rose and made the most of about a pint of water, which I
allowed myself for washing. Then I breakfasted upon tea and bread.
As soon as the beasts were loaded I mounted my camel and pressed
forward. My poor Arabs, being on foot, would sometimes moan with
fatigue and pray for rest; but I was anxious to enable them to
perform their contract for bringing me to Cairo within the
stipulated time, and I did not therefore allow a halt until the
evening came. About midday, or soon after, Mysseri used to bring
up his camel alongside of mine, and supply me with a piece of bread
softened in water (for it was dried hard like board), and also (as
long as it lasted) with a piece of the tongue; after this there
came into my hand (how well I remember it) the little tin cup half-
filled with wine and water.
As long as you are journeying in the interior of the Desert you
have no particular point to make for as your resting-place. The
endless sands yield nothing but small stunted shrubs; even these
fail after the first two or three days, and from that time you pass
over broad plains, you pass over newly-reared hills, you pass
through valleys that the storm of the last week has dug, and the
hills and the valleys are sand, sand, sand, still sand, and only
sand, and sand and sand again. The earth is so samely that your
eyes turn towards heaven - towards heaven, I mean, in the sense of
sky. You look to the sun, for he is your task-master, and by him
you know the measure of the work that you have done, and the
measure of the work that remains for you to do. He comes when you
strike your tent in the early morning, and then, for the first hour
of the day as you move forward on your camel, he stands at your
near side and makes you know that the whole day's toil is before
you; then for a while, and a long while, you see him no more, for
you are veiled and shrouded, and dare not look upon the greatness
of his glory, but you know where he strides overhead by the touch
of his flaming sword. No words are spoken, but your Arabs moan,
your camels sigh, your skin glows, your shoulders ache, and for
sights you see the pattern and the web of the silk that veils your
eyes and the glare of the outer light. Time labours on; your skin
glows and your shoulders ache, your Arabs moan, your camels sigh,
and you see the same pattern in the silk, and the same glare of
light beyond, but conquering Time marches on, and by-and-by the
descending sun has compassed the heaven, and now softly touches
your right arm, and throws your lank shadow over the sand right
along on the way to Persia. Then again you look upon his face, for
his power is all veiled in his beauty, and the redness of flames
has become the redness of roses; the fair, wavy cloud that fled in
the morning now comes to his sight once more, comes blushing, yet
still comes on, comes burning with blushes, yet hastens and clings
to his side.
Then arrives your time for resting. The world about you is all
your own, and there, where you will, you pitch your solitary tent;
there is no living thing to dispute your choice. When at last the
spot had been fixed upon and we came to a halt, one of the Arabs
would touch the chest of my camel and utter at the same time a
peculiar gurgling sound. The beast instantly understood and obeyed
the sign, and slowly sunk under me till she brought her body to a
level with the ground, then gladly enough I alighted. The rest of
the camels were unloaded and turned loose to browse upon the shrubs
of the desert, where shrubs there were, or where these failed, to
wait for the small quantity of food that was allowed them out of
our stores.
My servants, helped by the Arabs, busied themselves in pitching the
tent and kindling the fire. Whilst this was doing I used to walk
away towards the east, confiding in the print of my foot as a guide
for my return. Apart from the cheering voices of my attendants I
could better know and feel the loneliness of the Desert. The
influence of such scenes, however, was not of a softening kind, but
filled me rather with a sort of childish exultation in the self-
sufficiency which enabled me to stand thus alone in the wideness of
Asia - a short-lived pride, for wherever man wanders he still
remains tethered by the chain that links him to his kind; and so
when the night closed around me I began to return, to return, as it
were, to my own gate.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 51 of 87
Words from 51512 to 52554
of 89094
