Port Said was our first stopping place; and, after a fortnight afloat, we were glad to see the lighthouse, like a yellow speck on the horizon. We went ashore, and saw the town, which stands close to the sea-beach, and by the entrance to the canal, with which it is contemporaneous. Behind, as far as one can see, stretches the arid desert itself. The old Arab town of square, flat-topped houses, is nearly a mile away to the right. The new town consists mainly of shops and hotels, with the exception of the consular residences, the hospital, and post-office.
EGYPTIAN WATER-COOLER.
I visited the hospital, with the young Irish ship’s doctor as a companion, and among the inmates saw an American suffering from fever and chronic rheumatism. In one of the cells, guarded by a couple of Arab sentries, we found a young, fair-haired, blue-eyed Greek sailor, who had murdered an Arab girl through jealousy the night before. I was struck by the gentle, inoffensive expression on his face; but I suppose he did not deserve the pity I felt for him. A public square, planted with trees, shrubs, and flowers, forms an oasis in the midst of the desert of dusty streets, and white-washed or stucco houses. Most of the houses are two-storied, and furnished with cool, shady verandahs; and in some cases they are covered with the green drapery of a large convolvulus, which adds much to the picturesque effect of walls and fences throughout the place. In the gardens, bananas, date-palms, bamboo, and other vegetation common to hothouses at home, here grow in the open air, with no other protection than that afforded by a belt of tall reeds. Nothing is produced here, even the necessary fruits and culinary vegetables being brought from Malta, or the Mediterranean ports. Soil and fresh water for the little gardens has to be procured from Ismalia, fifty miles away.
In the markets we found plenty of ripe grapes, fine pomegranates, water-melons, and great pithy-skinned oranges. Vegetables consisted of lettuce, onions, beet, the Egyptian turnip-rooted kind, peas, okre, and gourds. Most of the stands were attended by lazy Arab women, of various ages, who sat cross-legged among their goods, and kept off the flies with switches of horse-hair. A tight-fitting cap, ornamented with little gold coins, covered their heads, and their figures were enshrouded in great black cloaks, reaching to their heels.
We saw some old Arabs watering the hot and dusty streets with sea-water, which they carried in large skin “bottles,” slung behind them, so that the march of modern progress has not yet obliterated all the old customs and utensils of these singularly primitive people. We took about a hundred tons of coal on board here. This was brought to the side of the vessel in lighters, and carried up sloping planks by some fifty or sixty swarthy fellows, who kept up a droning chant the whole time. They each carried up about a hundred weight at once in a basket; and the whole gang reminded one of a colony of black ants, as they swarmed up one plank in quick succession, and trotted down another, after disposing of their dirty load. Perhaps the Pyramids, and other gigantic architectural erections, were reared by myriads of ant-like workers, similar to these we now saw.
SHE OF THE MARKET.
Two mail steamers entered the Canal before us, and it is a very odd sight to see the masts of the first one gliding away to the left, nothing else being visible but the flat sea of sand as far as the eye can reach. Pilots are necessary for the Canal, and notwithstanding their special knowledge and skill, vessels frequently get aground. Coaling over, we get under way and enter the strip of salt water which connects the Mediterranean with the Gulf of Suez, passing through the flat desert, a distance of about eighty-seven miles. The completion of this undertaking, apart from facilitating European and Eastern commerce, has also, if local report speaks truly, benefited the climate of the district as well; a current of cool air is now attracted along its route, and the precious burden of the rain-clouds has also been brought to this tract of arid sands, which previously were almost entirely destitute of showers. Another benefit to the dwellers on its shores is the fish which travel along this strip of water-way and so are caught close to the doors of those who live or who are employed along its banks. At five mile intervals along the banks are stations for signalling purposes, and as the strip of seaway is not broad enough for two vessels to pass each other, the Canal is widened at each “gare,” so that one vessel can make fast while the other passes. The whole thing is regulated by a simple telegraphic and signalling system. Nearly all these stations have little gardens, but the prettiest of them all in this way is that at the old Arab town and ferry station of Kantara, through which many caravans pass on their way to and from Cairo. Here is a tiny hotel, and several little whitewashed houses with shady verandahs laden with climbing plants of various kinds. One of the houses is sheltered by a row of poplars, and the colour and fragrance of the oleanders were delightful. The Arabs call this flower the “Rose of the Desert,” and certainly at this little oasis it might fairly be said that the desert had been made “to blossom as the rose.”
We reached here at sunset, and the air was deliciously cool and fresh, and a sight of the dark green poplar trees was most cheering and home-like. Crickets chirped in the sand, and the splashing of the fish in the Canal was heard very frequently after we had made fast for the night. The tints on the vegetation and sand-hills by the banks just before sunset are most lovely, and the sunsets themselves very gorgeous as seen through the clear dry air. Two of the firemen had to be placed in irons soon after leaving Port Said, to prevent them from leaping overboard or injuring themselves. They were literally maddened by some villanous spirituous drink which had been smuggled on board during the hurry and bustle of coaling in the morning. Here and there we passed the bodies of dead camels, on which wolfish-looking dogs or vultures regale themselves. Flocks of flamingoes were seen in the distance. As the air becomes clearer after sunrise the distant sand-hills resemble islands in a broad lake or sea, an effect due to mirage; indeed, the semblance of a flat expanse of water lying in the full sunshine near the horizon is so perfect as to deceive all but the experienced. The hills of loose sand close to the banks of the Canal are swept quite smooth by the winds in some places, while here and there the surface is rippled like a snow-ruck, and the foot-prints on these “sands of time” made by the passing Arab are singularly like those made in frozen snow.