The first march, six miles, is over flat desert, with no growth whatever till just at the end, when the Wadi curls round a spur of rocky cliff, where there is a group of stunted tamarisk trees, growing each on a mound of sandy soil formed of tangled roots. We pitched our first camp here under a tamarisk tree, the only one worthy of the name, and set to work to cook our dinner, consisting of bread and pea soup, which latter I am quite an adept at making in the following manner:—boil a lot of dried Egyptian peas in the saucepan till fairly soft, then pound them up with one of the tent peg mallets. Next add salt and pepper, also a few stalks of a plant which grows in the sand and resembles mint[4] (I think it is really artemisia). Strain the decoction through a piece of mosquito curtain, and eat hot. I don’t believe S——— could make better soup with all her pots and pans at home.
Our old camel sheikh took leave of us at Kenneh, and handed us over to the care of his son and grandson, who looks after my camel, a white one, the pick of the herd. There are also three other drivers. They all carry long guns, like pieces of gaspipe about as long as telegraph poles, which are fired with a slow match. They can’t be less than two hundred years old.
Kasr el Jinn,
January 9th, 1891.
Started again at 8.30 A.M. after a light breakfast of eggs and bread. The nights are cold, the temperature falls to 38° Fahr. by 8 A.M., then rises to over 90° by midday—rather a difference. A short march to-day to Kasr el Jinn, meaning the fort of the Evil Spirit. It is only about twelve miles from our last camp, and we reached it at 3 P.M. This used to be an old Roman station, and is built on the top of a hill. The walls at the base are very thick, and built of big stones surmounted by sun-dried bricks, which are now quite decayed and in ruins. I went and dug with a “Wallace” spade for anything I might find; but there was nothing but bits of broken pottery. The whole place is choked with sand, and I soon got tired of digging in the sun. The desert was most dreary all to-day, nothing to relieve the monotony of the journey, and a camel goes so slowly, about two and a half miles an hour. I frequently got off and walked, leaving the caravan far behind.
CAMP AT KASR-JINN.
We see a lovely mirage every now and again. We halt always for twenty minutes lunch at midday under the shade of our kneeling camels. Something went wrong with the pea soup this evening, which was not quite up to the mark. It is very amusing to watch the camels scrambling for their ration of beans after their march. They have nosebags put on and stand feeding for all the world like a lot of London cab-horses.
Muskia (Sakia),
January 10th, 1891.