We met a man to-day, a Roala, alone with twelve camels, yearlings and two year olds, which he had bought from the Shammar and was driving home. He had paid twenty-five to thirty-five mejidies apiece for them, but they were scraggy beasts. The Nejd camels are nearly all black, and very inferior in size and strength to those of the north. When we came upon the man we at first supposed he might be an enemy, for anybody here is likely to be that, and Awwad rushed valiantly at him with a gun, frightening him out of his wits and summoning him in a terrible voice to give an account of himself. He was perfectly harmless and unarmed, and had been three nights out already in the Nefûd by himself. He had a skin of water and a skin of dates, and was going to Shakik, a lonely walk.
At half-past three (level 3040 feet) we caught sight of the hills of Jobba, and from the same point could just see Aalem. It was a good occasion for correcting our reckoning, so we took the directions accurately with the compass, and made out our course to be exactly south by east.
To-day all our Mahometans have begun to say their prayers, for the first time during the journey. The solemnity of the Nefûd, or perhaps a doubt about reaching Jobba, might well make them serious; perhaps, however, they merely want to get into training for Nejd, where Wahhabism prevails and prayers are in fashion. Whatever be the cause, Mohammed on the top of a sand-hill was bowing and kneeling towards Mecca with great appearance of earnestness, and Awwad recited prayers in a still more impressive manner, raising his voice almost to a chant.
Talking by the camp fire tonight, Radi informs us that the Nefûd extends twelve days’ journey to the east of where we now are, and eleven days’ journey to the west. At the edge of it westwards, lies Teyma, an oasis like Jôf, where there is a wonderful well, the best in Arabia. We asked him about sandstorms, and whether caravans were ever buried by them. He said they were not. The sand never buries any object deeply, as we can judge by the sticks and bones and camel-dung which always remain on the surface. The only danger for caravans is that a storm may last so long that their provision of water fails them, for they cannot travel when it is severe. Of the simum, or poisonous wind spoken of by travellers, he has never heard, though he has been travelling to and fro in the Nefûd for forty years. Abdallah, however, says he has heard of it at Tudmur, as of a thing occurring now and again. None of them have ever experienced it.
January 18.—A calm night with slight fog, hoar frost in the morning.
It appears that there was a scout or spy about our camp in the night from the Shammar. We had been sighted in the afternoon, and he had crept up in the dark to find out who we were. At first he thought we were a ghazú, but afterwards recognised Radi’s voice, and knew we must be travellers going to Ibn Rashid. He came in the morning and told us this; and that he was out on a scouting expedition to look for grass in the Nefûd. He seemed rather frightened, and very anxious to please; and assured us over and over again that Mohammed Ibn Rashid would be delighted to see us.
It has been another hard day for the camels. Shenuan has broken down and cannot carry his load; and Hanna, like the rest of the men, has had to walk, for his delúl is giving in. The sand seems to get deeper and deeper; and though we have been at work from dawn to dusk, we are still ten or fifteen miles from Jobba. But for the hills which we see before us every time we rise to the crest of a wave, it would be very hopeless work. Every one is serious to-night.
Sunday, January 19.—A terrible day for camels and men. Hanna’s delúl, Shenuan, and the tall camel they call “Amúd,” or the “Pillar,” refused their aliek last night, being too thirsty to eat; and to-day they could carry no loads. Shakran, too, who has hitherto been one of our best walkers, lagged behind; and the whole pace of the caravan has been little over a mile an hour. But for the extraordinary strength of Hatherán, the gigantic camel which leads the procession, and on whom most of the extra loads have been piled, we should have had to abandon a great part of our property; and, indeed, at one moment it seemed as if we should remain altogether in the Nefûd, adding a new chapter to old Radi’s tales of horror. And now that we have escaped such a fate and have reached Jobba, we can see how fortunate we have been. But for the perfect travelling weather throughout our passage of the Nefûd, and the extraordinary luck of that thunderstorm, we should not now be at Jobba. The sand to tired camels is like a prison, and in the sand we should have remained. Mohammed, Abdallah, and the rest all behaved like heroes; even old Hanna, with stray locks of grey hair hanging from under his kefiyeh, for he has grown grey on the journey, and his feet bare, for it is impossible to walk in shoes, trudged on as valiantly as the most robust of the party. All were cheerful and uncomplaining, though the usual songs had ceased, and they talked but little.
Wilfrid and I were the only ones who rode at all, except Hanna, whom Wilfrid forced to ride his mare from time to time, and we were the gloomiest of the party. We felt annoyed at being unable to do our work on foot with the others; though from time to time we walked or rather waded through the sand, until obliged to remount for lack of breath and strength. Neither of us could have kept up on foot; but a European is no match for even a town Arab in the matter of walking.
To-day the khall Abu Zeyd (Abu Zeyd’s road) was distinctly traceable, and we begin to think that it may not have been altogether a romance. There are regular cuttings in some places, and the track is often well marked for half a mile together. Radi assures us that there is a road of stone under the sand; of stone brought from Jebel Shammar at, I am afraid to say, what expense of camels and men, who died in the work. I noticed to-day a buzzard and a grey shrike; and a couple of wolves had run along the road, as one could see by their footmarks and the scratching on the sand.