Once I asked him why.
"I can't help it, sir; every time I see the sun setting I remember those shadows racing down from the mountains that time Jassim's wife was killed with this," and he tapped his left arm where the bracelet was.
He happened to be quite cheerful that evening, after his successful day's work with the lightermen, so when it was cool I simply forced him to come ashore.
"Come and have a walk; it will do you good," I said, and took him with me in the dinghy. Directly we landed, between the Custom House and the Sultan's palace, he started off along the shore at a great pace, pushing in and out of the Arabs busy loading and unloading dhows as if he never even saw them. As I caught up with him I saw that he was in one of his morbid fits again.
"What's wrong now?" I asked.
"This is the very spot where I stood eighteen years ago and saw the cursed snake for the second time. The Khan of Khamia came down here, and his wives were carried along that passageway—the arm with this bracelet on it showed up just there—there!" and he gripped my arm and pointed, his eyes glittering as if he could really see it again.
"Come along, man; don't be a fool!" I cried angrily; "people will think you mad," and dragged him reluctantly away through narrow, tortuous passages, jostling natives of every black or brown nationality under the sun, and pressing back occasionally against the walls of the miserable houses to let laden donkeys pass. The Eastern smell pervading everything delighted me; it was splendid; but I do not suppose he noticed it. At last we came to the main gate of the town, with its armed guard of ruffianly Arabs, and turned to the right along an open space where many horses were tethered, until we found ourselves close to a wretched mosque and a crowd of idlers lazily listening whilst a decrepit-looking old chap, standing on the steps, read from a paper he was holding. As we pressed through the people I caught the words "Khamia", when Mr. Scarlett stopped suddenly, gripped my arm fiercely, and literally pulled me away. He was shaking all over, and that muddy, frightened expression had come back.
"What the dickens is the matter now?" I asked, very irritated.
"Come back; get back to the 'B.A.,' sir; I can't breathe here."
He let go of my arm and simply ploughed his way through the crowd, and when clear of it actually began running.