Sand and Canvas: Narrative of adventures in Egypt with a sojourn among the artists in Rome

by Samuel Bevan

We reached Alexandria on the 2nd of July, and long before our paddles had ceased moving, we were besieged by a clamorous set of savages in boats, who, clinging to the sides of our vessel, were plentifully greeted with hot water, by the captain’s order, and compelled to retire to a respectful distance, whilst they kept up a continued fire of Arabic, and caused us no little amusement. This was my first introduction to the Modern Egyptians, and when I looked from these half-naked fellows to the shore, and saw the long row-range of sand-hills, and the dismal looking habitations that studded the sides of the harbour, I thought my lines could hardly be said to be cast in pleasant places. Much time was not, however, given me for reflection, as the dropping of the anchor soon aroused me from my reverie. The passengers got away in small parties, reaching the shore in boats, and I was leaning over the ship’s side to make my selection, when a big-whiskered Frank underneath, startled me with a “Hallo! there; are you for Waghorn?” My reply was followed by an invitation to get into his boat. As we rowed ashore, I found that I had fallen into the hands of Mr. Furner, the very man of whom Portenier had made mention as his locum tenens.

I shall never forget the scene that awaited us on landing at the hard. Camels, donkeys, merchandize of every description, shrieking women, boys, and greasy Arabs, were jumbled together in indescribable confusion; the men fighting and cuffing one another, with the most violent gesticulations, in their anxiety to appropriate the luggage of the newly arrived passengers, in order to convey it to the city. Furner, armed with a huge whip, which I learnt to call by the name of “Korbash,” dealt his blows right and left on the heads and shoulders of the natives, and speedily cleared a way for us to where a group of donkeys were standing, all saddled and bridled. My friend, selecting the two which he considered the best, told me to mount; an injunction which I mechanically obeyed, for I scarcely knew what I was doing, and was querying with myself whether my Ramsgate and Blackheath experience in donkey-exercise would avail me aught on the present occasion. The saddles were of stuffed carpet, and very high, and my stirrup-leather broke with me on getting up, an accident no sooner remarked by Furner, than my donkey-boy was rewarded with a little of the “korbash.” To tie it up again, was the work of a moment, and then off we went at a gallop, with a boy at each tail, through some narrow streets, between high walls, where, in addition to the exertion required in keeping my seat, I had continually to bob my head to avoid being knocked off my perch by some passing camel, which, with its ponderous and enormous load, would fill up the whole of the street. Ever and anon, my donkey-boy, by a fearful thwack “a posteriori,” would give my animal a right or left-handed bias, sufficient almost to make me lose my equilibrium, while Furner, who rode behind, could scarce keep his seat for laughter. Five minutes hard riding brought us into the middle of a crowded bazaar, and we were forced to relapse into a trot, our boys clearing a space before us by repeated cries of “shimalek! aminak! ariglak!”[1] &c. The scrambling about of the poor Arab women, in their efforts to get out of the way, was at once ludicrous and painful; and I was unfeignedly glad when we suddenly emerged into the great square of Alexandria, and pulled up at the door of “Waghorn’s India agency.”

THE AUTHOR’S ENTRY INTO ALEXANDRIA.

Hitherto, I had had little or no opportunity of saying anything respecting my own business, to Furner, who had very naturally taken me for an India-bound passenger, and it was, therefore, with some degree of surprise that he perused Mr. Waghorn’s letter to Portenier. I was saved for the moment from the deluge of questions with which he seemed ready to overwhelm me, by his suddenly calling to mind that it was considerably past his ordinary breakfast hour; and having learned just enough to satisfy him that I was a duly accredited agent of the “Overland,” he politely asked me to share his morning meal. He was living, he said, in one of Waghorn’s houses in the English “okella,” where, as Portenier was away, there would be ample room for me, and thither accordingly, he sent my portmanteau. Crossing the Great Square, and entering a large gateway, we ascended to a covered gallery, extending round the inner sides of the “okella,” and forming a sort of common hall of entrance to the numerous houses therein comprised. I remarked on each door that we passed, one or more spots of red wax. This, Furner informed me, was the plague-seal, placed there by the authorities, to prevent the egress of the inmates, though he immediately relieved my now critically sensitive nerves, by adding, that they were at least of two years’ standing.

Furner’s dwelling consisted of a large upper-floor of five rooms, with kitchen and servants’ rooms above, the whole sumptuously furnished according to the Eastern notions of comfort, with elegant divans and polished stone floors. I was too hungry on entering to take more than a hasty survey of what I saw, the more especially as sundry tempting looking dishes of novel appearance stood ready on the breakfast table, beside a noble Britannia metal tea-pot, which possessed for me a peculiar charm, after having been debarred for a whole week from a taste of the grateful infusion. As we refreshed ourselves, I acquainted Furner with the circumstances under which I had arrived in Egypt, detailing to him my engagement with Mr. Waghorn, and receiving in return a description of my future companions in office, with divers hints of a friendly nature as to the position I ought to take up among them. This I found to be chiefly regulated by the nature of our several engagements, and had the satisfaction of learning from Furner that I was appointed to as good a post as any one, and equal in point of emolument to that of any English employè in Egypt.

We had scarcely finished our meal, when a loud thumping at the outer-door announced a visitor. This proved to be Mr. Raven, the resident partner, fresh from Cairo, to whom I was forthwith introduced. This gentleman was, in the first instance connected with a Mr. Hill, who is since deceased, and has done a great deal towards establishing and improving the communication between Cairo and Suez, having been indeed, in conjunction with his late associate, one, if not the projector of the original Transit Company. It needed however the enterprizing spirit and untiring perseverance of Mr. Waghorn, before the undertaking could be brought to assume any thing like a flourishing appearance; and now that the energies of both are united in one common object, the Egyptian portion of the Overland journey is as perfect as individuals[2] can make it.

From Mr. Raven, who had been apprised by letter of my anticipated arrival, I received orders to await the arrival of the next steamer from Southampton, and conduct the passengers to Cairo, which would, he added, give me a tolerably good insight into the routine of business. As it wanted nearly a fortnight to such time, I found I should have ample leisure to make myself acquainted with Alexandria, and to pick up, if possible, some few sentences of Arabic. For this purpose I enlisted into my service the most sagacious of our Dragomen, whom I found a very useful and intelligent fellow. As he possessed a good knowledge of English, he served me as a walking lexicon, and would render for me the more familiar words and sentences, taking great pains to ensure their correct accent.

Our first day’s ramble was confined pretty much to the Bazaars, which form the stranger’s chief object of attraction in an oriental town. Different quarters are devoted to the sale of the various sorts of merchandize, and you may pass successively through an avenue of tailors’ shops, a street of dried dates and quaint-looking groceries, a gaudy labyrinth of rugs and prayer-carpets, and a lane of pipe-sticks and tobacco shops. These are for the most part protected from the sun by a loose boarding over head, devoid of all nails or fastening, so that in blusterous weather, the passer-by is occasionally greeted with a falling plank or stray piece of timber, dislodged by the wind. It requires also considerable caution in threading your way through these narrow passages, as in endeavouring to avoid the heavy tread of a laden camel, you are possibly knocked down by a donkey, or receive an unwelcome salute in the side or stomach from the bony knee of its rider, who passes quickly onward without a murmur of apology.

The shops which compose these Bazaars, are neither more nor less than large wooden boxes, ranged along a raised platform on either side the way, open only in front, and furnished with shutters and wooden locks, which are secured at night and during the siesta. Some have a neat sort of railing, and are provided with little seats and stuffed cushions, to which a purchaser to any considerable extent is immediately invited and served with a chibouke. During the puffing that ensues, the buyer and seller are occupied in settling the price of the required commodity, the one offering half as much as he intends to give, and the other asking double what he thinks of taking, so that, at the end may be of half-an-hour, they contrive to meet, and a little cup of thick unsweetened coffee from a neighbouring shop, completes the bargain. The purchaser is expected to give a trifling present to the servant of the merchant, who helps him on with his slippers, left during the interview, in the street below.