Passing the next Station, a mere stable, and still keeping between the two lines of hills, which increase in height as you approach Suez, we came suddenly upon No. 6, where, as it was now ten o’clock, we had to arouse the inmates. This Station is the counterpart of No. 2, and was tenanted by an agreeable and pretty Englishwoman, who, having in haste, united herself to an Arab, was now in the solitude of the desert, repenting at her leisure. Under her good care we remained several hours, doing ample justice to a plentiful supper, and refreshing ourselves with a comfortable nap. It was therefore broad daylight when we reached the well of brackish water, and came in sight of the walls of Suez, a desolate and miserable town, where there is no water, save that of the Red Sea, and such as is afforded by a casual shower, and not the most remote appearance of vegetation in any shape. The inhabitants, who appear to live exclusively upon fish, and dried fruits from the interior, consist principally of Jewish merchants and small Arab traders, for there is considerable traffic between Suez and the shores of the Red Sea, especially with Aden and Missouah, which latter, is the chief port of Abyssinia. The Indian steamers come up to within three or four miles of the town, and obtain a tolerably safe anchorage outside a perilous bar, which entirely prevents any nearer approach for vessels drawing more than five feet of water. Communication is effected, and merchandize shipped, by means of small lateen-rigged boats, which, if the wind be contrary, are also managed by oars; but in a high sea, I have sometimes been as long as six hours in getting out to the steamer.
Waghorn’s hotel is a quaint-looking low building close to the water’s edge, containing accommodation for thirty or forty people, and is managed by a clean bustling Englishwoman and her nephew. Two hundred yards or so nearer the gate, stands the old hotel, used only on extraordinary occasions, or when the steamer, not true to her time, causes a meeting at Suez between the India-bound passengers and those returning homewards. The little square before the door was filled as we drove up, with the baggage camels, which having disposed of their burdens in various heaps upon the ground, were now quietly chewing the cud, and resting themselves after their weary march, while their drivers were lolling near, either shrouded in their bernous cloaks and fast asleep, or lazily getting their morning meal. Portmanteaus, bullock-trunks, sword-cases, and three-cornered hat-boxes, with all the innumerable etceteras in the way of baggage, comprising an Indian outfit, lay scattered about in wild confusion, and it required no little skill on the part of our drivers to manage a four-in-hand through such a sea of valuables. Fortunately for myself, the boxes containing the mails lay all in one heap close to the door of the hotel, so that my task of counting and checking them was more easily accomplished than I had anticipated. Consigning them, therefore, into the hands of Mr. Manson, the agent at Suez, and obtaining from him a suitable receipt, I was left to discuss an excellent “dejeuner a-la-fourchette,” provided for me by the good-natured landlady, of whom I had contrived to get the blind side, by the opportune present of a few English needles which I happened to have in my valise.
I learned, on inquiry of the agent, that the “Berenice” Bombay steamer, which had the day before landed two or three homeward-bound passengers, and was now lying smoking at her anchorage, was to start at five in the afternoon; and as the shipment of the mails and luggage is a work of time and labour, the sooner they were got off the better. I found this by no means an unpleasant part of my duty, for as there was a delightful breeze blowing, and the weather of the finest, the sail down the arm of the gulf into the open water, was extremely pleasant.
By six o’clock every one was on board, and the “Berenice” under weigh; and at midnight, I had turned my back upon Suez, with the now nearly empty carriages, for there were only three passengers, and as it so happened that neither of these contemplated reaching Alexandria in time for the English steamer, there was no occasion for any extraordinary dispatch. We therefore jogged along quietly enough, and for the first few stages, I found an amusing companion in my driver, a countryman of my own, who, having been long resident in Egypt, was able to afford me a good deal of information. He was, however, no follower of Father Mathew, and falling into the popular error that brandy is the best and safest restorative in a hot climate, he indulged in such repeated pulls at the black bottle, that on leaving No. 4 Station, he was compelled to resign the reins to the attendant Seis, and sleep away the effect of his potations at the bottom of the cart.
Resting during the hottest part of the day, we reached Cairo at the close of the second afternoon, where having consigned my travelling companions to the attentions of the head waiter, I paid my respects to Mr. Raven, whom I found entertaining a large party of his English friends, resident in Egypt. Pleading my travel-worn and dusty condition, for he was leading me in to present me to the ladies, as a late arrival from England, I begged him to direct me to some good bath, where I could indulge in the luxuries of soap and hot water. “There was a good one,” he said, “at the end of the first Bazaar,” whither accordingly I bent my steps, and passing under a narrow stone gateway, from whence thin clouds of steam were issuing into upper air, I was making my way through a damp passage, when I suddenly found myself arrested by the gripe of a fierce-looking Abyssinian slave, who luckily perceiving that I was a stranger, drew me back again into the street with much gesticulation, and pointing to a dirty rag which hung suspended over the door-way, like a paviour’s wisp, gave me a shove, which sent me reeling into the Bazaar, considerably surprised at the curious mode of reception practised at a public Hammam. I had scarcely recovered my scattered senses, when a Frank tailor, who had seen the transaction, and evidently pitied my dilemma, emerged from his little shop, and explained to me that the pendant rag was exhibited as a sign, to show that the bath was at such times in the occupation of the ladies, and that in fact the hareem of some great man had but a short time before engaged the establishment. My forcible ejection was, therefore, no longer a matter of surprise, the only wonder being, that I had escaped so cheaply from the hands of the dusky Cerberus on guard.
My new friend, the tailor, now directed me to another bath at a little distance off, where I had no difficulty in effecting an entrance, as this time, and indeed always afterwards, I took especial care to look out for the rag! Although the Turkish bath has been so often described, as to have rendered its peculiarities familiar, I shall scarcely feel satisfied to give a casual glance only at this most gratifying of luxuries, and shall, therefore, simply relate my own experience, without venturing to hope that I may furnish anything very new upon the subject.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] A brother of the late Mr. Hill, before alluded to.
[9] I once met with a “loin of camel,” at No. 4 Station, a pièce de resistance, I am not ambitious of tasting a second time.