"And they will go on smelling," said the Captain, "until some fine day the plague comes and makes a clean sweep of the town. The only clean sweep it ever gets, some one has said."
"The plague!" cried Tom, in horror.
"Yes, the plague. All these filthy Oriental towns are scourged by it every now and then; Bassorah has had its share in the visitation. A long time ago Bassorah had a large population—as high as 800,000, they say, but that is an Oriental way of saying it was very populous. But pestilence, and war, and capture by the Persians, and recapture by the Imam of Muscat for the Sultan, have reduced it to very modest proportions indeed. The Turks founded it, to begin with. One of their early Caliphs gave it the first start 'way back—let me see—in the seventh century."
"Six hundred a.d.," put in Tom.
"Yes; the Turks wanted to keep the way open for trade to the Gulf. These Turks generally know what they are about. But of course the best business men in Bassorah are the Jews."
Here a curious coincidence occurred. A procession slowly approached, coming down the narrow street.
"Jew funeral," said the Arab boatman.
The officers and our Tom gave way, crowding themselves against the houses, as the procession advanced. In front of them it halted. The corpse about to be buried lay in an open coffin placed on a bier hung with black. The persons comprising the procession had been chanting doleful funeral songs, but when they halted they ceased singing, and instead repeated in a mournful monotone funeral prayers as they all marched around the coffin. On the corpse was placed an urn, and as each person passed it he threw into it a piece of money. Seven halts were made, the routine being the same in each instance. At the final one the priest who was conducting the ceremonies uplifted the urn and said, in solemn tones: "We know that no one in the world is free from the sin Sera Lebathalah. We therefore give to thee this money, in order that thou mayst let his body and his soul rest in peace. In the name of the Eternal and His Holy Word, and with the consent of the members of the congregation here present, we lay upon thee the Anathema, which shall compel thee to flee into wild and solitary regions, where thou canst no more persecute any one."
As a matter of course Tom was completely mystified. The Lieutenant had been studying his guide-book. "It's this way, Tom," he explained. "This Jewish community have this curious custom peculiar to themselves. That great long word Sera Lebathalah is the name of a mystic sin or spirit, who is said to be the father of countless dark fiends who torment a man after his death, under the pretext that they are his children and ought to have part of his inheritance. Anathema is a Greek word, signifying that a thing shall be condemned or devoted to destruction. So the friends of the dead buy off this spirit as you have seen, and get rid of him in that way."
"But what becomes of the money?" asked Tom.