ON TREK
Orders for Hargeisa—Salvage and propositions—A camel, a girl and my policeman—Bokh and water—The sin of water wangling—Camel-packing—The "White Running Water"—Mahomed Gaileh's sheep—Four Sahibs—A Somal dance—Hargeisa and flowers.
I
Orders to proceed to Hargeisa, hurrah! The work entailed in preparing for the journey is a pleasure to perform. We are to cross overland by camel transport. Boxes are overhauled, re-packed, and bound with cord. Calculations are made as to the number of rations required for our followers and escort, the water to be carried and tanks for the same. All is made ready, and all is checked; from the tin-opener to the forage for the riding animals; from the salt to the ammunition in the escort's belts.
On a Saturday afternoon the baggage camels move out. I, accompanied by mounted police, shall follow on riding camels two days later and catch them up.
Every miserable man, woman and child who has an unsettled claim chooses this day to attend court and ventilate it. The D.C. cannot be allowed to go away without a reminder of the important matters he is leaving behind. Patiently but quickly the people are heard; then a dreadful thing happens. A dhow, bound from Aden to Bulhar with merchandise, was wrecked off Sad-du-din more than a week ago. Such of her cargo as had been salved was brought here. As I near the end of my work there walk into the court the agents of the Bulhar merchants, armed with powers of attorney from their principals, to claim the salvaged goods. Some of these men have travelled from afar. It would be wiser for me to wait a day than to put them off. However, I know the affair by heart. Here are all the papers and accounts complete to date. They show, among many other things, that the identification marks on many of the salvaged goods have been washed off. But if the agents agree with a scheme I have already worked out in my mind we can finish the business in an hour. I propound it, they listen patiently, and make notes of what I say. As I finish they leave the court to talk over my proposition. I await their return—and watch the clock. A quarter to one—ten minutes to one—one o'clock! Ah! here they come. "We accept your scheme," they say. "Thanks very much." That is all. I sign the statement ready on my desk, hand it to the clerk, and leave the office.
At the bungalow the chowkar has a snack of lunch waiting. The cook and head boy have gone.
At two-thirty p.m. the riding camel and one mule, all saddled, are waiting at my door. I am ready.