On the 20th, a person came from Mahomet Gibberti to conduct me on shore. The Naybe himself was still at Arkeeko, and Achmet therefore had come down to receive the duties of the merchandise on board the vessel which brought me. There were two elbow chairs placed in the middle of the market-place. Achmet sat on one of them, while the several officers opened the bales and packages before him; the other chair on his left hand was empty.
He was dressed all in white, in a long Banian habit of muslin, and a close-bodied frock reaching to his ancles, much like the white frock and petticoat the young children wear in England. This species of dress did not, in any way, suit Achmet’s shape or size; but, it seems, he meant to be in gala. As soon as I came in sight of him, I doubled my pace; Mahomet Gibberti’s servant whispered to me, not to kiss his hand; which indeed I intended to have done. Achmet stood up, just as I arrived within arm’s length of him; when we touched each other’s hands, carried our fingers to our lips, then laid our hands cross our breasts; I pronounced the salutation of the inferior Salam Alicum! Peace be between us; to which he answered immediately, Alicum Salam! There is peace between us. He pointed to the chair, which I declined; but he obliged me to sit down.
In these countries, the greater honour that is shewn you at first meeting, the more considerable present is expected. He made a sign to bring coffee directly, as the immediate offering of meat or drink is an assurance your life is not in danger. He began with an air that seemed rather serious: “We have expected you here some time ago, but thought you had changed your mind, and was gone to India.”—“Since sailing from Jidda, I have been in Arabia Felix, the Gulf of Mocha, and crossed last from Loheia.”—“Are you not afraid,” said he, “so thinly attended, to venture upon these long and dangerous voyages.”—“The countries where I have been are either subject to the emperor of Constantinople, whose firman I have now the honour to present you, or to the regency of Cairo, and port of Janizaries—here are their letters—or to the sherriffe of Mecca. To you, Sir, I present the sherriffe’s letters; and, besides these, one from Metical Aga your friend, who, depending on your character, assured me this alone would be sufficient to preserve me from ill-usage so long as I did no wrong: as for the dangers of the road from banditti and lawless persons, my servants are indeed few, but they are veteran soldiers, tried and exercised from their infancy in arms, and I value not the superior number of cowardly and disorderly persons.”
He then returned me the letters, saying, “You will give these to the Naybe to-morrow; I will keep Metical’s letter, as it is to me, and will read it at home.” He put it accordingly in his bosom; and our coffee being done, I rose to take my leave, and was presently wet to the skin by deluges of orange flower-water showered upon me from the right and left, by two of his attendants, from silver bottles.
A very decent house had been provided; and I had no sooner entered, than a large dinner was sent us by Achmet, with a profusion of lemons, and good fresh water, now become one of the greatest delicacies in life; and, instantly after, our baggage was all sent unopened; with which I was very well-pleased, being afraid they might break something in my clock, telescopes, or quadrant, by the violent manner in which they satisfy their curiosity.
Late at night I received a visit from Achmet; he was then in an undress, his body quite naked, a barracan thrown loosely about him; he had a pair of calico drawers; a white coul, or cotton cap, upon his head, and had no sort of arms whatever. I rose up to meet him, and thank him for his civility in sending my baggage; and when I observed, besides, that it was my duty to wait upon him, rather than suffer him to give himself this trouble, he took me by the hand, and we sat down on two cushions together.
“All that you mentioned,” said he, “is perfectly good and well; but there are questions that I am going to ask you which are of consequence to yourself. When you arrived at Jidda, we heard it was a great man, a son or brother of a king, going to India. This was communicated to me, and to the Naybe, by people that saw every day the respect paid to you by the captains of the ships at Jidda. Metical Aga, in his private letter delivered to the Naybe last night by Mahomet Gibberti, among many unusual expressions, said, The day that any accident befals this person will be looked upon by me always as the most unfortunate of my life. Now, you are a Christian, and he is a Mussulman, and these are expressions of a particular regard not used by the one when writing of the other. He says, moreover, that, in your firman, the grand signior stiles you Bey-Adzé, or Most Noble. Tell me, therefore, and tell me truly, Are you a prince, son, brother, or nephew of a king? Are you banished from your own country; and what is it that you seek in our’s, exposing yourself to so many difficulties and dangers?”
“I am neither son, nor brother of a king. I am a private Englishman. If you, Sidi Achmet, saw my prince, the eldest, or any son of the king of England, you would then be able to form a juster idea of them, and that would for ever hinder you from confounding them with common men like me. If they were to choose to appear in this part of the world, this little sea would be too narrow for their ships: Your sun, now so hot, would be darkened by their sails; and when they fired their terrible wide-mouthed cannon, not an Arab would think himself safe on the distant mountains, while the houses on the shore would totter and fall to the ground as if shaken to pieces by an earthquake. I am a servant to that king, and an inferior one in rank; only worthy of his attention from my affection to him and his family, in which I do not acknowledge any superior. Yet so far your correspondents say well: My ancestors were the kings of the country in which I was born, and to be ranked among the greatest and most glorious that ever bore the crown and title of King. This is the truth, and nothing but the truth. I may now, I hope, without offence, ask, To what does all this information tend?”
“To your safety,” said he, “and to your honour, as long as I command in Masuah;—to your certain death and destruction if you go among the Abyssinians; a people without faith, covetous, barbarous, and in continual war, of which nobody yet has been able to discover the reason. But of this another time.”
“Be it so,” said I. “I would now speak one word in secret to you, (upon which every body was ordered out of the room): All that you have told me this evening I already know; ask me not how: but, to convince you that it is truth, I now thank you for the humane part you took against these bloody intentions others had of killing and plundering me on my arrival, upon Abdelcader governor of Dahalac’s information that I was a prince, because of the honour that the English ships paid me, and that I was loaded with gold.”