Reminiscences of Travel in Australia, America, and Egypt

by Sir Richard Tangye

My friend was an invalid, and the first dish put on the table caused him great anxiety, as it was one which his medical man had given him strict orders to avoid. What was to be done? My companion explained to the invalid that in the East no greater affront could be given to a host than to decline to partake of what was offered, and so, not having provided himself with Jack the Giant Killer’s device for disposing of surplus food, he was fain to eat it, not without certain fearful forebodings.

Arabi’s personal appearance had greatly altered, he having grown a beard which was turning grey. At the table with him were his two sons, lads apparently of ten and twelve years respectively. On his left sat Fehmi Pasha, a man of very striking appearance with a face indicating considerable intellectual power. Arabi desired to know what the English thought of him, a question which my companion parried by saying the English always respected a brave man. Rising to take leave of the host, my companion patted the head of the eldest boy in a kindly manner. This seemed to move Arabi in a singular way. He rose and said, in a sharp tone of command, to his boys, “Salaam,” then, crossing the room and placing his hand on my companion’s shoulder, said with some emotion, “Ah, ah, good, good.”

Proceeding on our voyage we called at Aden, a dreadful place, without a single redeeming feature, in European eyes. Those of our countrymen who are compelled to reside here in the service of the country are entitled to the deepest sympathy of every Englishman. The possession of Aden is of considerable importance to England and to India, both as a coaling station and as a military post, although in the latter respect it is of less importance than formerly. The islands commanding the channels at the entrance to the Red Sea are after all the key to the position, one of the most important being the Island of Perim, the acquisition of which does more credit to the ’cuteness of the British commander at Aden than to his sense of honour—that is, if the story told of him be true. It is related that one evening, nearly forty years ago, two French war-ships cast anchor before Aden, and the English governor with a laudable desire to ascertain the object of their visit invited the commanders of the ships to dinner. Unfortunately for France the officers were not teetotallers, and the weather being hot and the British commander’s wine strong, the gallant Frenchmen’s tongues were loosened, and the perfidious Englishman ascertained that the mission with which his guests were charged was no less than the occupation of the Island of Perim in the name of Louis Philippe, King of the French!

Without losing a moment the governor sent orders to the captain of the English gunboat lying at Aden to proceed with all speed and in the strictest secrecy to take possession of the island in the name of the Queen! The sun had risen before the festivities at the governor’s residence had ceased, and then with many bows his guests departed to their ships, and shortly afterwards left Aden for their destination. On arrival, their astonishment and mortification may be imagined when they saw on the highest point on the island the British flag flying, and the gunboat which they had seen at Aden on the previous day anchored close inshore. The incident gave occasion for much tall talk at the time on the part of the fiery French colonels, and, not without reason, I fear, gave fresh life to the cry of “Perfidious Albion.”

We arrived at Suez in the third week of February, and as soon as our steamer stopped, our old dragoman Hassan came on board with a huge packet of letters for us, and although he had only seen us once before, three years ago, he not only remembered our names but came straight to us and told us he had brought a boat for our use, and that bedrooms were engaged for us at the hotel. We owed all this attention—which was most seasonable, as I was still suffering from the effects of a malarious fever contracted in Australia—to Messrs. Cook and Son, who had been advised of my coming, and here I will say that in Egypt and Syria the name of “Cook” is the talisman which solves all difficulties and robs travelling of nearly all its inconveniences.

On landing we were forcibly struck with the altered demeanour of the people since our previous visit. On that occasion landing was effected under the greatest difficulties. The people seemed to look upon us as fair prey. It was almost impossible for us to keep our luggage together, and the insolent threatening manner in which backsheesh was demanded was not a little disturbing to those who were visiting an eastern country for the first time. But now all was changed; instead of idle excited crowds loitering everywhere, everyone seemed to be engaged in some work, backsheesh was rarely asked for, and always in subdued tones, and one refusal was enough. Even the donkey boys had been reached, for when their proffered services were declined they went away with a “thank you.”

The Suez Hotel is kept by an Englishman, and he informed us that during the war he left it in charge of natives, and found everything safe and in order on his return.

On the following day we proceeded by railway to Cairo, viâ Ismailia and Tel-el-Kebir. At many of the stations British soldiers were on guard, a part of their duty appearing to be the inspection of the natives’ baggage; this was done amidst much good humour on both sides—indeed, all through Egypt the British soldier seemed to be on the best possible terms with the people, as indeed there is every reason why he should be, for it is certain he has been the means of saving the people of Egypt from a tyranny of the worst kind—the tyranny of rapacious pachas, civil and military. With the usual exclusiveness of our nation, our party of four had arranged to have the whole of the compartment of the railway-carriage to ourselves. It is true we paid extra for the convenience, but at one of the stations, the train being very crowded, two Frenchmen endeavoured to enter, being prevented, however, by the Arab conductor. The Frenchmen, with much gesticulation and great volubility, pointed out to the Arab that there were only four persons in the carriage, whereas it was constructed to take eight; the guard insisted that there were eight persons in the compartment, although it was patent to all that there were only four. “Four!” said the Frenchmen. “Eight!” returned the guard, giving us a most wicked wink, which, however, failed to extort backsheesh. Ultimately our would-be companions were safely bestowed elsewhere.

The railway passes by the field of Tel-el-Kebir, the entrenchments stretching as far as the eye can reach. When my companion went over the ground a few weeks after the battle it was covered with debris of every kind, clothing, arms, ammunition, and other ghastly indications of a battle-field.