My Winter on the Nile / Eighteenth Edition

by Charles Dudley Warner

There is not long to think of it, however, and no possibility now of evading the trial. Before we know it, the nose of the boat is in the rapid, which flings it up in the air; the next second we are tossed on the waves. The bow dips, and a heavy wave deluges the cook's domain; we ship a tun or two of water, the dragoman, who stands forward, is wet to his breast; but the boat shakes it off and rises again, tossed like an egg-shell. It is glorious. The boat obeys her helm admirably, as the half-dozen pilots, throwing their weight upon the tiller, skillfully veer it slightly or give it a broad sweep.

It is a matter of only three or four minutes, but they are minutes of intense excitement. In the midst of them, the reïs of our boat, who has no command now and no responsibility, and is usually imperturbably calm, becomes completely unmanned by the strain upon his nerves, and breaks forth into convulsive shouting, tears and perspiration running down his cheeks. He has “the power,” and would have hysterics if he were not a man. A half-dozen people fly to his rescue, snatch off his turban, hold his hands, mop his face, and try to call him out of his panic. By the time he is somewhat composed, we have shunned the rocks and made the turn, and are floating in smoother but still swift water. The reises shake hands and come to us with salaams and congratulations. The chief pilot desires to put my fez on his own head in token of great joy and amity. The boy stops shouting the Koran, the prayers cease, the beads are put up. It is only when we are in a tight place that it is necessary to call upon the name of the Lord vigorously.

“You need not have feared,” says a reïs of the Cataract to ours, pointing to the name on the red and yellow flag, “Allah would bring us through.”

That there was no danger in this passage we cannot affirm. The dahabeëhs that we left at Mahatta, ready to go down, and which might have been brought through that morning, were detained four or five days upon the whim of the reises. Of the two that came first, one escaped with a slight knock against the rocks, and the other was dashed on them, her bottom staved in, and half filled with water immediately. Fortunately, she was fast on the rock; the passengers, luggage, and stores were got ashore; and after some days the boat was rescued and repaired.

For a mile below this chûte we have rapid going, rocks to shun, short turns to make, and quite uncertainty enough to keep us on the qui vive, and finally, another lesser rapid, where there is infinitely more noise by the crew, but less danger from the river than above.

As we approach the last rapid, a woman appears in the swift stream, swimming by the help of a log—that being the handy ferry-boat of the country; her clothes are all in a big basket, and the basket is secured on her head. The sandal, which is making its way down a side channel, with our sheep on board, is signalled to take this lady of the lake in, and land her on the opposite shore. These sheep of ours, though much tossed about, seem to enjoy the voyage and look about upon the raging scene with that indifference which comes of high breeding. They are black, but that was not to their prejudice in their Nubian home. They are comely animals in life, and in death are the best mutton in the East; it is said that they are fed on dates, and that this diet imparts to their flesh its sweet flavor. I think their excellence is quite as much due to the splendid air they breathe.

While we are watching the manoeuvring of the boat, the woman swims to a place where she can securely lodge her precious log in the rocks and touch bottom with her feet. The boat follows her and steadies itself against the same rocks, about which the swift current is swirling. The water is up to the woman's neck, and the problem seems to be to get the clothes out of the basket which is on her head, and put them on, and not wet the clothes. It is the old myth of Venus rising from the sea, but under changed conditions, and in the face of modern sensitiveness. How it was accomplished, I cannot say, but when I look again the aquatic Venus is seated in the sandal, clothed, dry, and placid.

We were an hour passing the rapids, the last part of the time with a strong wind against us; if it had risen sooner we should have had serious trouble. As it was, it took another hour with three men at each oar, to work down to Assouan through the tortuous channel, which is full of rocks and whirlpools, The men at each bank of oars belonged to different tribes, and they fell into a rivalry of rowing, which resulted in an immense amount of splashing, spurting, yelling, chorusing, and calling on the Prophet. When the contest became hot, the oars were all at sixes and sevens, and in fact the rowing gave way to vituperation and a general scrimmage. Once, in one of the most ticklish places in the rapids, the rowers had fallen to quarrelling, and the boat would have gone to smash, if the reïs had not rushed in and laid about him with a stick. These artless children of the sun! However we came down to our landing in good form, exchanging salutes with the fleet of boats waiting to make the ascent.

At once four boats, making a gallant show with their spread wings, sailed past us, bound up the cataract. The passengers fired salutes, waved their handkerchiefs, and exhibited the exultation they felt in being at last under way for Philæ; and well they might, for some of them had been waiting here fifteen days.

But alas for their brief prosperity. The head reïs was not with them; that autocrat was still upon our deck, leisurely stowing away coffee, eggs, cold meat, and whatever provisions were brought him, with the calmness of one who has a good conscience. As the dahabeëhs swept by he shook his head and murmured, “not much go.”