DESERT FARE—THE BAWAUB—NO. 4 STATION—A SIESTA—THE SOLITARY TREE—PESTILENTIAL BREEZES—A DRY WELL—SUEZ—WAGHORN’S HOTEL—THE “BERENICE”—RETURN TO CAIRO—A THIRSTY DRIVER—COOL RECEPTION AT A WARM BATH—THE PENDANT RAG.
But to return to our caravan, which we left on the margin of the desert. Our rate of travelling was about five miles in the hour, for the track, which in some places, lay over a smooth and tolerably hard gravel, was at others exchanged for a loose sand, in which our wheels became buried to the depth of a foot or more, causing a deal of labour to our horses. At such times, our Seis, or running-footman, one of whom accompanies each carriage, would apply his shoulder to the wheel and help us over the soft spot, whilst on occasions we found it necessary altogether to alight, and unite our efforts. We changed horses at No. 1 Station, which is nine miles from Cairo, and a mere stable, reaching No. 2, at about ten o’clock. This is a building containing a large saloon, with divans and a long table, three sleeping rooms, kitchen, &c., and here we found a good supper laid out, consisting of smoking dishes of Irish stew, cold turkeys and fowls, and eggs à discretion. During the meal, I was beckoned out of the room by the head driver, Mr. Hill,[8] to debate as to the length of time we should allow for resting. As there was a full change of horses for each carriage, I considered it would be as well to make the most of the cool night air, and secure a long halt the next day at the centre Station, and our passengers concurring in this idea, we were soon again en route.
No. 3 Station is a repetition of No. 1, being only a stable, tenanted by one old melancholy Arab, who, on our arrival, was found squatted over his little fire of camel’s dung, upon which he was baking his evening cake of Indian corn. This, with his pipe, and a drink of water, forms his only food. In the morning, in his scriptural little mill of two flat stones, he grinds sufficient flour to last him through the day, tasting nought else until his return to the city, which takes place when the transit season is over. Such, at least is the old fellow’s own account of himself; but as very few who cross the desert, pass by a Station without a call, it is more than probable, that he picks up something, more palatable than maise-bread, in return for the sundry half-pints of water and handsful of corn, which he distributes, sub-rosâ, among his Bedouin friends.
A HALT IN THE DESERT.
Early on the following morning, we came in sight of No. 4, the centre Station, forty-one miles from Cairo, which, with the one solitary tree that stands near it, is visible nearly six miles before it is made. This is a resting-place of much more pretensions than the others, having an upper-story, with a ricketty flight of stone-steps, and a tolerably spacious court-yard below, where, at the time of our arrival, a queer-looking sheep, and some lean shrivelled fowls were sniffing and pecking about, and scraping up their last earthly meal, whilst a turkey-cock, perched on an empty cafass or hamper, was dismally sounding his death-rattle. The live stock, and eatables of all sorts are brought from Cairo in sufficient quantity to supply the larders of all the Stations for several weeks, but occasionally, when the number of passengers to and fro is very large, a sort of famine takes place, and we have been compelled to subsist for a time upon dates and other dried fruits, of which there is always a good store; the change of diet proving rather agreeable than otherwise. Chickens, very lean and tough, and roasted to dryness, are a standing dish in Egypt, and these with the larger sorts of fowl, and plenty of curries and Irish-stew, form the principal fare of the desert.[9] A second course generally makes its appearance at dinner in the shape of huge rice-puddings, or a sort of sweetmeat called mish-mish, a favourite dish of the Arabs.
On arriving at No. 4, we found that the cool night air had given us considerable appetite, and our ablutions performed, there was a general rush to the long table in the common room, where sundry tea-pots and coffee-biggins were soon in rapid circulation, and boiled eggs disappeared by the score; bread there was none, as that becomes too much dried up by the heat when carried across the desert, but hard biscuits we found to be an excellent substitute, and the Egyptian butter is delicious. Breakfast over, I spread my carpet on the top of a long wooden sideboard, and soon fell fast asleep—my example being followed by the others who disposed themselves to rest, some in the bed-rooms, and others on the divans which extend round three sides of the room. In the middle of the day the heat was excessive—the thermometer standing at 100° of Fahrenheit—and the slight breath of air which was stirring outside was so very far preferable to the confined heat of the rooms, that I left my hard couch for a little patch of shade under one of the carts, where I was soon joined by one of my fellow-travellers, with whom I whiled away the hours in chat, until summoned by Ibraham the cook to another trial of his culinary art.
At the approach of evening, the horses were again attached to their respective carts or vans, and after some little jibbing on the part of the poor animals, who were evidently averse to moving, we were again upon the desert. The road near the centre Station is hard and gravelly, and affords most easy travelling for the first mile or two. We passed within a stone’s throw of the solitary tree before alluded to, with its sun-burnt branches all festooned with rags; the followers of the prophet who pass this object on their pilgrimages to Mecca, hang thereon an old shoe or some portion of a garment by way of peace-offering. If the wind is stirring, it is quite as well to take the weather-side of this hanging mass of old clothes, for as there are few devotees who care to part with anything really serviceable, the breezes which come athwart the tree are by no means of the most balmy.
About a quarter of a mile to the southward of this pestilential landmark, is a pit in the sand, of enormous dimensions, excavated by the French in the vain hope of obtaining water. Two or three of us went so far just to gratify our curiosity, but were obliged to use extreme caution in approaching the edge of the pit. Its diameter is so great that the well, although one hundred and fifty feet deep, appears rather shallow than otherwise, and the section of the ground exhibits a succession of layers of fine sand and gravel, but without the least appearance of water. Two or three dead animals, for which the well had served as a pitfall, lay at the bottom.
The road to No. 5 Station is scarcely to be distinguished, as the ground is so hard as to take no impress of wheels, and there would be great difficulty in making it out at all, were it not for the dead and dying camels and blanched skeletons, which strew the path and serve as finger-posts. Should a camel drop through exhaustion, and there be no means at hand of relieving it, the Bedouin removes its load, which is distributed among the others, and the poor beast is left to die, for to shorten its miseries by a coup de grace, would be at variance with the law of Mahomet. This is the more to be regretted as these animals are peculiarly tenacious of life, and when left in this manner, are sure to fall a prey to the jackal and vulture, who feast upon the body before life is extinct. A sly bullet from my carbine has often terminated the agonies of such as I have found thus abandoned in my frequent journeys, when I could use it without fear of detection, for the Arabs will not lightly pass over an infringement of their law in this particular; and as they have, if so inclined, the power of causing us much trouble, I have invariably sought to be on the best terms with them.