Till that moment I had not been aware that this was the citadel of the ’Abdu’l Hadi’s factions, and a semi-fortification. [Since that time, I have had opportunities of seeing much more of the people and the place.]
Sending a kawwâs to the castle, with my compliments to the Bek, I requested guards for the night, and loading my pistols afresh, stood with them in my hand, as did my second kawwâs with his gun, and we commenced erecting the tents.
Down came the kawwâs in haste to announce that the Bek was coming himself to us, attended by his sons and a large train.
First came his nephew from his part, to announce the advent; then a deputation of twenty; and then himself, robed in scarlet and sable fur, on a splendid black horse of high breed. I invited him to sit with me on my bed within the tent, widely open. The twenty squatted in a circle around us, and others stood behind them; and a present was laid before me of a fine water-melon and a dozen of pomegranates.
Never was a friendship got up on shorter notice. We talked politics and history, which I would rather have adjourned to another time, being very tired and very hungry.
He assured me that when my pistols were heard at the arrival, between 700 and 800 men rushed to arms, supposing there was an invasion of their foes, the Tokân and Jerrâr, or perhaps an assault by the Pasha’s regulars from Jerusalem, under the pretext of cholera quarantine—in either case they got themselves ready.
He stayed long, and then went to chat with my Arab secretary in his tent, leaving me to eat my supper. He gave orders for a strong guard to be about us for the night, and a party to guide us in the morning on our way to Carmel.
This personage (as he himself told me) had been the civil governor inside of Acre during the
English bombardment of 1840; and his brother had first introduced the Egyptians into the country eleven years before that termination of their government.
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