While we were busy talking about something or other, the sharp eyes of Madame discovered the steamer, and we gave an Indian yell of delight. Our baggage was ready, and soon we had it on the shoulders of porters and were off for the landing.
The usual “backsheesh” took us through the Custom House, and the muscular arms of Arab boatmen swung us out of the little harbor of Jaffa and over the swelling waves of the Mediterranean. The ship was a full mile from shore, and it was a long pull and a strong pull to get us there. On board we found we were the only cabin passengers, and could have all the after part of the ship to ourselves.
I have before stated that Jaffa is celebrated for its oranges, which are largely exported. As soon as the steamer anchored she was surrounded by boats loaded with boxes and baskets, the boxes being made with open sides and tops, so as to allow a free circulation of air. The boxes and baskets were hoisted in over the ship’s side amid much confusion and a vast amount of talk. Italian, Russian, Arabic, and Turkish filled the air; everybody talked at once, and you could hardly distinguish one sound from another. The liveliest scene was when a boat was emptied and dropped away, and another came in to take its place.
There would be half a dozen boats struggling for position, and they would push and crowd at a frightful rate. The men of one boat would deliberately push another boat back and crowd their own in, and of course this would rouse the ire of the ousted ones. The volleys of words would set up an Arabic dictionary. I don’t know whether there was any profanity in what they said, but I fancy so. Now and then in the struggle some one would tumble into the water, but he was soon up again, and didn’t seem to mind the wetting.
Deck passengers on a Levantine steamer generally appropriate a part of the deck that suits them, and stay there during the voyage. They spread their carpets and blankets where they find room and squat by day and sleep by night on the spot selected. Directly in front of the after cabin, a lot of deck passengers were thus installed, and when the crate-like boxes and the canvas covered baskets were piled near and around them, they began to help themselves to oranges. Two fellows that were camped together would work in partnership. One would get near a basket, and would work cautiously until he had a hole large enough, then quietly withdrawing an orange, would pass it to his pal, who would conceal it behind his baggy breeches and flowing robes. The operation would go on until a peck or so had been taken, when another freshly arrived basket would be sought.
Nine o’clock came, and we were still at the same work, and the decks were covered. Finally the captain said that no more could be taken, and half a dozen boats were sent back to land as fully loaded as they came. Steam began to blow from the pipes, in a few moments the screw was started, the anchor rose from its bed, and we were under way.
Under a clear night sky of the Mediterranean, I sat on deck watching the bright stars above, the glittering waves below, and the phosphorescent gleaming track of the ship, as she plowed through the waters. The twinkling lamps of Jaffa faded into indistinctness and then went out, and, last of all, the staring light-house sank below the horizon and was hid from sight.