The muleteers had preceded us during our survey of Sebustieh, on the way to ’Arâbeh, and we could see nothing of them before us—the road was unknown to us, and no population could be seen, all keeping out of sight of us and of each other on account of the alarm of cholera then raging in the country.
At Nabloos that morning, two hours before noon, we had been told of twenty having been already buried that day, and we saw some funerals taking place. At Sebustieh, the people had refused for any money to be our guides; one youth said, “he was afraid of the death that there was in the world.”
So my companion and I, with a kawwâs, paced on till arriving near sunset at a deserted village standing on a precipice which rose above a tolerably high hill, and which from a distance we had been incorrectly told was ’Arâbeh; at that distance it had not the appearance of being depopulated, as we found it to be on reaching it. Numerous villages were in view, but no people visible to tell us their names. The district was utterly unknown to maps, as it lies out of the common travellers’ route. This village, we afterwards
learned, is Rami, and antique stones and wells are found there. Though our horses were much fatigued, it was necessary to go on in search of our people and property, for the sun was falling rapidly.
Observing a good looking village far before us to the N.W., and a path leading in that direction, we followed it through a wood of low shrubs, and arrived at the village, a place strong by nature for military defence, and its name is Cuf’r Ra’i. There was a view of the sea and the sun setting grandly into it.
For high pay, we obtained a youth to guide us to ’Arâbeh; shouldering his gun, he preceded us. “Do you know,” said he, “why we are called Cuf’r Ra’i?—It is because the word Cuf’r means blaspheming infidels, and so we are—we care for nothing.” Of course, his derivation was grammatically wrong; for the word, which is common enough out of the Jerusalem district and the south, is the Hebrew word for a village, still traditionally in use, and this place is literally, “the shepherd’s village.”
We passed an ancient sepulchre cut in the rock by our wayside, with small niches in it to the right and left; the material was coarse, and so was the workmanship, compared to ours about Jerusalem.
The moon rose—a jackal crossed a field within a few yards of us. We passed through a large village called Fahh’mah, i.e., charcoal, with
fragments of old buildings and one palm-tree. Forwards over wild green hills, along precipices that required extreme caution. The villages around were discernible by their lights in the houses. At length ’Arâbeh appeared, with numerous and large lights, and we could hear the ring of blacksmiths’ hammers and anvils—we seemed almost to be approaching a manufacturing town in “the black country of England.” [217]
Arrived on a smooth meadow at the foot of the long hill on which the place is built, I fired pistols as a signal to our people should they be there to hear it, and one was fired in answer. To that spot we went, and found the tents and our people, but neither tents set up nor preparations for supper. Village people stood around, but refused to give or sell us anything, and using defiant language to all the consuls and pashas in the world.