The interpreter conveyed this information to Lieutenant Porter, who whirled at once on the Egyptians.
"I've told all of you that I will tolerate no cruelty," he began.
Not understanding a word, nevertheless Ali listened with mingled awe and admiration as Lieutenant Porter continued to speak. His words, Ali thought happily, were a lion's roar, and it was better to be whipped than to endure them because a whip could not remove skin nearly as well. The eight Egyptians, like eight beaten dogs, slunk away. Lieutenant Porter addressed the interpreter, who conveyed the message to Ali.
"Can you make the camel rise?"
Ali got to his feet, smoothed his burnous and went to the stubborn camel. He took hold of the tether rope while he stooped to whisper in its ear, "Rise, my little one. Rise, my beauty. The trail is long and the day is short."
The camel rose and began to lick Ali's hand. Ali addressed the interpreter. "Where are these camels going?"
"To America," the interpreter assured him.
"But—" A bewildered Ali looked from the stately ship to the tethered camels. "Is a land wealthy enough to have such a ship, so poor as to have no camels?"
Treating this question with haughty disdain, the interpreter relayed another message. "Lieutenant Porter wishes to know if you will go to America with the camels?"
Ali hesitated, then asked, "Is America a land of Moslems?"