We were guided down a rocky slope into a valley not more than 200 feet wide, with thick woods up each side, and a sandy bottom. Here we were stopped by a good many shots from each side, and retreated a little, without turning our backs, and then looked about for the four sons. There was another row of course, and my husband said we would return to Sufeila; but we were told at last that we might pass, so we did, and one of the shooters soon joined us and asked for a rupee for coffee, but was refused, and then said he would let us go to Bir Baokban if he got a rupee, but he did not insist. We now thought it well to ask where we were, and were told that it was Hadbeh, a place we had never heard of before. My husband said we should return to Sufeila, and carried off a string of camels. There was a great consultation, amid much roaring and shouting. I rode fast to the head of the kafila to see what was happening, my husband still going back with about six camels, the others going on, they said, to Bir Baokban. I then galloped back over the stones to the soldiers who were behind, and said, 'Your sultan has placed you under our orders; go and get those camels back.' 'No, no,' they said, 'it is quite safe to go on,' and ran back as hard as they could.
I then rode back quickly to my husband, and found him in abject distress; one of his camels had shed its load, and was seated on the ground. The soldiers remained behind, sitting on a bank. After a long council, we determined to go on to a village close by, where we joined the other camels. We had barely time to set up the tents before dark, and our store of bread and charcoal stood us in good stead. The Indian party were dreadfully late getting to bed. Dismay reigned supreme amongst us all.
Saleh came in to our tent and said, 'The man who shot at us says, "You cannot go on to-morrow. To-day we only shot our bullets in the air, but to-morrow we shall shoot at you."'
We thought of going back to Sufeila, and sending to the sultan of Sheher for help, but where could we find a messenger? When we were in bed, Saleh came and said two men with the matches of their guns alight were standing by our tent; some of those that had shot at us, and said they wanted four or six annas, as they were returning to Sufeila. They refused to take four then, so my husband said they had better come about it in the morning.
Morning revealed that these were some of our own camel-men, who were just pretending to be the shooters in order to get money, and also we found out that Talib had employed the shooters to give us the fright, in order to delay us, that the Jabberi and the soldiers might have a feast at our expense in the village, and time to eat it. They did not reach camp till eleven.
Next morning the soldiers brought my husband twelve of the fifteen dollars the sheikh had received (being part of the original thirty, said to be for the three other tribes of Hamoumi), saying that he was a very wicked man, as he had not sent his four sons, so they had only left him three dollars for the feast. Hardly had my husband put this by, when Talib came and had to be given thirty-six dollars for siyar to the Mahri. Plainly we were in their hands, and had to pay whatever Talib chose, as we might be hemmed in at any moment. We felt as if we were in a net.
The eleven dollars camel-hire which we had kept out having gone to make up this sum, and the camel-men refusing to load without it, we had to unpack again to get it for them.
Sufeila, where we had endured such a disagreeable delay, is on the tableland, 3,150 feet above the sea-level, with excellent air, excellent water, palm and other trees, and would make a first-class sanatorium for Aden. It is ten miles inland from Sheher as the crow flies.
About 8 o'clock next morning we started, not knowing precisely whence or whither, and determined to keep together as much as possible. We followed for miles the bed of a stream, which collects all the water from this part of the akaba, and gradually develops into Wadi Adim, the great approach to the Hadhramout. There is a fortress on a hill 3,500 feet above the sea-level, the highest point in this part; Haibel Gabrein being 4,150 feet, and near Dizba the highest point is 4,900 feet. After some miles on the akaba, we plunged into a valley about 200 feet wide, and wooded with palms; the earthen cliffs were about 60 feet high, and the bed sandy.
By this time we neither had a liking for valleys, cliffs, trees, nor people. We did not feel pleased at being led straight across the valley to a band of armed men, in a most unpleasant situation for us if they meant mischief. These were only Jabberi travelling, and they were told that we were friends of the sultan of Sheher, and not going to stay a minute. I suppose they would have fired if we had not been introduced to them. We were glad to reach Bir Baokban at 11.30. It is a well in a bare place at the mouth of a valley. Talib did not wish to stay there, for the water is brackish, and he wanted us to go on before the camel-men came up, but we waited, and they and the Jabberi had a loud and angry quarrel, and we were told there was no water nearer than Al Madi, and some of them wanted to stop at a place half-way to Al Madi and send for water. We could make neither head nor tail of it. Talib then asked my husband which he wished to do, for so it should be; but as he knew it was a case of 'You may do as you like, but you must,' answered to that effect, 'Whichever Talib liked, we were in his hands and could not choose.' After great hesitation we encamped in a windy, dusty, but rather pleasant place near Bir Baokban.