"like giants stand To sentinel enchanted land."
The strip of coarse quartz and sandstone gravel is obviously the offspring of some mountain torrent; it stretches southwards, being probably disposed in that direction by the currents of the sea as they receive the deposit. The distance of the "Hammam Bluffs" prevented my visiting them, which circumstance I regretted the less as they have been described by pens equal to the task.
That evening we enjoyed ourselves upon clean sand, whose surface, drifted by the wind into small yellow waves, was easily converted by a little digging and heaping up, into the coolest and most comfortable of couches. Indeed, after the canescent heat of the day, and the tossing of our ill-conditioned vessel, we should have been contented with lodgings far less luxurious. Fuel was readily collected, and while some bathed, others
[p.198] erected a hearth-three large stones and a hole open to leeward-lit the fire and put the pot on to boil. Shaykh Nur had fortunately a line; we had been successful in fishing; a little rice also had been bought; with this boiled, and rock-cod broiled upon the charcoal, we made a dinner that caused every one to forget the sore grievance of "Mare's skin" and stone-hard biscuit. A few Maghrabis had ventured on shore, the Rais having terrified the others by threatening them with those "bogies," the Badawin-and they offered us Kuskusu[FN#15] in exchange for fish. As evening fell, we determined, before sleeping, to work upon their "morale" as effectually as we had attacked their physique. Shaykh Hamid stood up and indulged them with the Azan, or call to prayers, pronounced after the fashion of Al-Madinah.[FN#16] They performed their devotions in lines ranged behind us as a token of respect, and when worship was over we were questioned about the Holy City till we grew tired of answering. Again our heads and shoulders, our hands and knees,[FN#17] were kissed, but this time in devotion, not in penitence. My companions could scarcely understand half the rugged words which the Maghrabis used,[FN#18] as their dialect was fresh from the
[p.199] distant Desert. Still we succeeded in making ourselves intelligible to them, vaunting our dignity as the Sons of the Prophet, and the sanctity of our land which should protect its children from every description of fraud and violence. We benignantly promised to be their guides at Al-Madinah, and the boy Mohammed would conduct their devotions at Meccah, always provided that they repented their past misdeeds, avoided any repetition of the same, and promised to perform the duties of good and faithful pilgrims. Presently the Rais joined our party, and the usual story-telling began. The old man knew the name of each hill, and had a legend for every nook and corner in sight. He dwelt at length upon the life of Abu Zulaymah, the patron saint of these seas, whose little tomb stands at no great distance from our bivouac place, and told us how he sits watching over the safety of pious mariners in a cave among the neighbouring rocks, and sipping his coffee, which is brought in a raw state from Meccah by green birds, and prepared in the usual way by the hands of ministering angels. He showed us the spot where the terrible king of Egypt, when close upon the heels of the children of Israel, was whelmed in the "hell of waters,[FN#19]" and he warned us that next day our way would be through breakers, and reefs, and dangerous currents, over whose troubled depths, since that awful day, the Ifrit of the storm has never ceased to flap his sable wing. The wincing of the hearers proved that the shaft of the old man's words was sharp; but as night was advancing, we unrolled our rugs, and fell asleep upon the sand, all of us happy, for we had fed and drunk, and
[p.200]-the homo sapiens is a hopeful animal-we made sure that on the morrow the Ifrit would be merciful, and allow us to eat fresh dates at the harbour of Tur.
Fair visions of dates doomed to the Limbo of things which should have been! The grey dawn (8th July) looked down upon us in difficulties. The water is deep near this coast; we had anchored at high tide close to the shore, and the ebb had left us high and dry. When this fact became apparent, a storm was upon the point of breaking. The Maghrabis, but for our interference, would have bastinadoed the Rais, who, they said with some reason, ought to have known better. When this phase of feeling passed away, they applied themselves to physical efforts. All except the women and children, who stood on the shore encouraging their relatives with shrill quaverings, threw themselves into the water; some pushed, others applied their shoulders to the vessel's side, and all used their lungs with might and main. But the "Golden Wire" was firmly fixed, and their exertions were too irregular. Muscular force failed, upon which they changed their tactics. At the suggestion of their "Maula," they prepared to burn incense in honour of the Shaykh Abu Zulaymah. The material not being forthcoming, they used coffee, which perhaps accounts for the shortcomings of that holy man. After this the Rais remembered that their previous exertions had not begun under the auspices of the Fatihah. Therefore they prayed, and then reapplied themselves to work. Still they failed. Finally, each man called aloud upon his own particular saint or spiritual guide, and rushed forward as if he alone sufficed for the exploit. Shaykh Hamid unwisely quoted the name, and begged the assistance, of his great ancestor, the "Clarified-Butter-Seller"; the obdurate "Golden Wire" was not moved, and Hamid retired in momentary confusion.
It was now about nine A.M., and the water had risen
[p.201] considerably. My morning had been passed in watching the influx of the tide, and the grotesque efforts of the Maghrabis. When the vessel showed some symptoms of unsteadiness, I arose, walked gravely up to her, ranged the pilgrims around her with their shoulders to the sides, and told them to heave with might when they heard me invoke the revered name of my patron saint. I raised my hands and voice; "Ya Piran Pir! Ya Abd al-Kadir Jilani[FM#20]" was the signal. Each Maghrabi worked like an Atlas, the "Golden Wire" canted half over, and, sliding heavily through the sand, once more floated off into deep water. This was generally voted a minor miracle, and the Effendi was respected-for a day or two.
The wind was fair, but we had all to re-embark, an operation which went on till noon. After starting I remarked the natural cause which gives this Birkat Faraun-"Pharaoh's Bay,"-a bad name. Here the gulf narrows; and the winds, which rush down the clefts and valleys of the lofty mountains on the Eastern and Western shores, meeting tides and counter-currents, cause a perpetual commotion. That day the foam-tipped waves repeatedly washed over my cot, by no means diminishing its discomforts. In the evening, or rather late in the afternoon, we anchored, to our infinite disgust, under a ridge of rocks, behind which lies the plain of Tur. The Rais deterred all from going on shore by terrible stories about the Badawin that haunt the place, besides which there was no sand to sleep upon. We remained, therefore, on board that night; and, making sail early the next morning, we threaded through reefs and sand-banks about noon into the intricate and dangerous entrance of Tur.