Every now and then we would pass a tall palm tree showing up in deep relief against the rolling sand-hills, and sometimes a sleeping Arab and his camel. Presently we passed into the Bitter Lakes, when all around us stretched placid water, the channel being marked out with red and green lights dwindling away in dim perspective to the horizon. Towards dawn a little chill, sighing breeze sprang up, and I returned to my slumbers.
Next morning, as we drew near Suez, the view was glorious. Mile on mile of billowing sand, golden now in the fierce rays of the sun, stretched away on either side, the banks being clothed with sparse vegetation.
Soon after breakfast we passed out of the Canal and into Suez Bay, where a large convoy lay at anchor waiting to proceed to Port Said.
That evening found us far down the Gulf of Suez, and Mount Sinai appeared on our starboard beam. Next day we were in the Red Sea, where we found it appallingly hot. Every morning we used to bathe in a canvas bath which was rigged up on the quarter-deck and filled with sea-water. We had our first experience of that most objectionable thing called “prickly heat” here, and did not like it at all!
Three days later we received a wireless message saying that it was believed that the Koenigsberg, a German raiding cruiser, was coaling in Jidda, a port in Arabia, on the banks of the Red Sea. At the time that we received this message, Jidda bore about six points on our starboard bow, so setting our course straight for it, we arrived off this little harbour about 4 p.m. It is the port for Mecca, and is very difficult to navigate owing to its many shifting sandbanks.
By 5 o’clock, having worked our way in as far as it was advisable to go, we lowered our pinnace, which, under the command of one of our lieutenants who was accompanied by a subaltern of marines, proceeded into the harbour. All eyes were eagerly fixed on the one steamer visible in the harbour, but even the most sanguine among us could see that it was not a war-ship of any description. However, we all hoped for some definite news from the British Consul as to the whereabouts of the German cruiser. But we were doomed to disappointment, for soon after dark the pinnace returned, and the Lieutenant reported that the said Consul—a rather sly Arab—denied that the German ship had been there. The Lieutenant had also interviewed the port authorities, but they could—or would—give no news, and he had examined the solitary steamer, which proved to be a British cargo-boat which had come in the day before. So we hoisted the pinnace, weighed anchor, and proceeded on our way, horribly disappointed and rather disheartened. We felt it was high time that something other than mere voyaging, however pleasant, should come our way.
Two days later we sighted H.M.S. “——,” and shortly after passing Perim Island we went through the “Gates of Hell” in her company.
The narrow straits bearing this sulphurous nickname, and properly called the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb, are situated at the end of the Red Sea and at the entrance to the Gulf of Aden.
When we got clear into the gulf we sighted a steamer and our consort went in chase of it, leaving us to continue our course for Aden, which we reached at 5 o’clock.