There was a plain stone building for a station, and Jakoub was almost immediately in the midst of a wordy fracas with the station-master.
This functionary came out and inspected our camels and their loads. He immediately fell into a state of almost maniacal excitement. My smattering of Arabic was not sufficient to enable me to gather more than the merest fragment of his complaint, but he seemed to be calling Allah and the Prophet to witness that no freight-train ever could or would take such a load as ours was.
Jakoub let him rave; but the camel-boys joined in, whether on the station-master’s side or against him I could not tell. Even the camels put in their word.
When they were all out of breath, Jakoub said a few sharp authoritative words which started the whole tornado of sound again.
This happened several times, and then Jakoub came up to me.
“He requires 150 piastres backshish, effendi. There is a train coming in half an hour. Had I more time I would make him to take less.”
I was so relieved to know that the train was nearly due that I did not grudge the money.
The camels were unloaded, and their owners led them away in dignified gratitude for liberal backshish.
The train came up like a miracle out of the desert.
There was another scene with the guard; but now Jakoub had a firm supporter in the station-master, and for the consideration of a 100-piastre note the whole of our cargo was safely stowed on board.