At the junction of these streamlets with the main stream may frequently be seen a couple of men standing on either bank lifting water from the river to the streamlets by means of a huge flat bowl, holding probably eight to ten gallons. This vessel is lifted on either side by means of two long handles diverging from each other, and it is surprising how large a quantity of water can be thrown up by means of it in an hour. The bowl is always in motion with a fine swing, and it is evident the men are working on their own account.
Every station at which we stopped is crowded with people selling oranges, water, etc., and very clever they are at their business too, very persuasive, and as quick as thought to see if you are inclined to buy. The children are the merriest, liveliest things imaginable, with bright eyes and shining white teeth. Here also may be seen numbers of beggars, young and old, calling out eternal backsheesh. We saw some venerable old fellows, bent nearly double with age, and with hair and whiskers quite white, who entreated us piteously to help them, saying “Got no mother, got no father, backsheesh!” Such orphans as these never obtained our sympathy, although they afforded us great amusement.
While in Cairo, news came of the dissolution of Parliament by Lord Beaconsfield, and we hastened to Alexandria to take the steamer for Italy on the following day; but on arriving we found the weather so excessively rough that the steamers were detained: and, as there seemed no prospect of getting off, we determined to proceed to Port Saïd, by way of Ismailïa, in order to take the steamer sailing thence for Naples, hoping on some future occasion to be able to see what is to be seen in Alexandria. A day’s railway-ride brought us to Ismailïa, from which place we took the evening mail-boat to Port Saïd. The night was very cold, and after a seven hours’ trip on the Canal it was very pleasant to find ourselves in the magnificent hotel built by Prince Henry of the Netherlands, attached to the Dutch factory at Port Saïd.
One of the Orient Steamers was due to sail on the following day, and we expected to proceed to Naples in her, but after providing us with tickets the agent sent us word that she had been detained a week and that we must choose another vessel. There was no other way of escape than by taking the P. and O. Steamer “Mongolia” to Malta, trusting to being able to find a ready means of crossing to Naples from that place. Unfortunately a heavy storm in the Mediterranean had the effect of delaying our arrival in Malta some hours, and we had the mortification of seeing the Naples steamer leaving the harbour as we were entering it. We arrived on Monday and found there would not be another steamer until Thursday, and as the Birmingham election was to take place on Wednesday in the following week our chance of getting there seemed very doubtful. Leaving Malta, however, on the Thursday, by dint of almost continual travelling night and day, we arrived safely in Birmingham at half-past ten on the Wednesday morning, and proceeded at once to register our votes for Bright and Chamberlain, two of the three successful Liberal candidates.
CHAPTER XII. [226]
After a stormy passage through the Mediterranean we turned in towards Port Saïd, and soon after sighting the handsome lighthouse took the French pilot on board, anchoring broadside on to the main street of the town and within fifty yards of the shore. A motley throng, in boats quite as motley soon filled up the space between the ship and the shore, and a wild jabber composed of a mixture of English, French, Italian, and Arabic filled the air. Presently the usual tribe of pedlars came on deck, and having spread out their wares invited the passengers to buy, somewhat after the fashion of London tradesmen in Cheapside hundreds of years ago with their cry of “What lack ye?” The inevitable Maltese with his lace, the Greek money-changer walking about with his hands full of silver offering to change, and astonishing the honest Britisher on his first voyage by his liberality in proffering twenty shillings for a sovereign—the rate of exchange, however, leaving him a very good profit. Near him is a Hebrew, whom I remember having seen at Aden, the black curls over his brow reminding one forcibly of Benjamin Disraeli. This man keeps to his trade of dealer in ostrich feathers.
Here also are gentlemen of the long robe—not lawyers, but Arabs, in ample white night-shirts and turbans—offering to young ladies in the most seductive tones, at two shillings each, coral necklaces, which can be purchased in Birmingham at three shillings the dozen, while dealers in photographs, melons, and oranges walk about always ready to take one-fourth of what they ask for their wares. Parallel with us are the quays, on which are crowds of people of all nationalities. The Custom House in front is occupied by a company of English artillerymen, the entrance being guarded by a British sentry, while overhead the Egyptian flag is flying. Away to the left is the old Dutch hotel, recently bought by the British Government, and now occupied by two hundred men of the Royal Marine Light Infantry.