The Land of Midian, Vol. 1 by Richard Burton

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The day ended with running the train into the Suez Docks, so as
to embark all our impediments on the next morning; and I fondly
expected Saturday to see us sail. But the weather-wise had been
true in their forecasts. Friday opened with howling, screaming
gusts of southerly wind; and, during the night we were treated to
a fierce display of storm,--thunder and lightning, and rain. The
gale caused one collision on the Canal, and twenty-five steamers
were delayed near the Bitter Lake; it broke down the railway and
sanded it up for miles, and it levelled fifty English and forty
Egyptian telegraph-posts--an ungentle hint to prefer the
telephone. Saturday, the beginning of winter, opened with a cold
raw souther and a surging sea, which washed over the Dock-piers;
in such weather it was impossible to embark ten mules without
horse-boxes. On Sunday the waves ran high, but the gale fell
about sunset to a dead calm; as usual in the Gulf, the breakers
and white horses at once disappeared; and the slaty surface,
fringed with dirty yellow, immediately reassumed its robes of
purple and turquoise blue. The ill wind, however, had blown us
some good by deluging with long-hoped-for rain the now barren
mountains of Midian.

This "Fortuna," according to the people, sets in with the fourth
Coptic month, Kayhak,[EN#15] which begins the first Arba'in
("Forty-day period"); and the fourth day is known as the Imtizaj
el-Faslayn, or "Mixture of the two Seasons"--autumn and winter.
The storm is expected to blow three days from the Azyab
(south-east) or from the Shirs (south-west). The qualities of the
several winds are described in the following distich:--

"Mirisi Shaytan, wa Gharbi Wazirhu;
Tiyab Sultan, wa Sharki Nazirhu."

"The south-wester's a Satan, and the wester's his minister;
The norther's a Sultan, and the easter's his man."

On the other hand, fair weather was predicted after the first
quarter of the moon (December 12th), according to the saying of
the Arab sailor:--

"When the moon sleeps, the seaman may sleep;
When the moon stands, the seaman must stand."

The "sleeping" moon--naim or rakid, also called Yemani--is that
of the first quarter, which we mark concave to the left; the
"standing" moon is that of the last.

Our stay at Suez was saddened by the sudden death of Marius
Isnard, who had acted cook to the first Khedivial Expedition. The
poor lad, aged only eighteen, had met us at the Suez station,
delighted with the prospect of another journey; he had neglected
his health; and, after a suppression of two days, which he madly
concealed, gangrene set in, and he died a painful death at the
hospital during the night preceding our departure.

On December 10th we ran down from Suez Quay in the Bird of the
Sea (Tayr el-Bahr), the harbour mouche, or little steam-launch,
accompanied by the Governor, Sa'id Bey, who has not yet been made
a Pasha; by Mr. Consul West; by the genial Ra'if Bey, Wakil
el-Komandaniyyah or acting commodore of the station; by Mr.
Willoughby Faulkner, my host at Suez; by the Messieurs Levick,
and by other friends. In the highest spirits we boarded our
"gun-carriage," the aviso Mukhbir (Captain Mohammed Siraj); and,
after many mutual good wishes, we left the New Docks at 6.10 p.m.

Nothing could be more promising than the weather, a young moon
mirrored in a sea smooth as oil. The "Giver of Good News"
(El-Mukhbir), however, for once failed in her mission. She had
lately conducted herself well upon a trial trip round the Zenobia
lightship ("Newport Rock").[EN#16] But the two Arab firemen who
acted engineers, worn-out grey-beards that hated the idea of four
months on the barbarous Arabian shore, had choked the tubes with
wastage, and had filled the single boiler, taking care to plug
up, instead of opening, the relief-pipe. The consequence was that
the engines sweated at every pore; steam instead of water
streamed from the sides; and the chimney discharged, besides
smoke, a heavy shower of rain. The engine (John Jameson,
engineer, Newcastle-on-Tyne, 1866), a good article, in prime
condition as far as a literally rotten boiler would allow,
presently revenged itself by splitting the air-pipe of the
condenser from top to bottom; and after two useless halts the
captain reported to me that we must return to Suez. What a
beginning! The fracture somewhat relieved the machinery; we did
better work after than before the accident, but we were ignobly
towed into dock by the ship's boats.

A telegram with a proces-verbal was at once sent off to the
Prince; Sa'id Bey and Ra'if Bey hastened to our aid, and Mr.
Williams, superintending engineer of the Khediviyyah line, with
the whole of his staff, stripped and set to work at the peccant
tubes and air-pump. They commenced with extinguishing a serious
fire which burst from the waste-room--by no means pleasant when
close to kegs of blasting-powder carefully sewn up in canvas.
They laboured with a will, and before sunset Mr. Williams
informed us that he would guarantee the engines for eight days,
when we were starting on a dangerous cruise for four months. He
also supplied us with an Egyptian boiler-maker and with eleven
instead of sixty new tubes: we lost forty-two of the old ones
between Suez and El-Muwaylah. Before sunset we made a trial trip,
the wretched old kettle acting tant bien que mal; we returned to
re-embark the soldiers and the mules, and we set out for the
second time at 5.30 p.m.

The Mukhbir, 130 feet long, 380 tons, and 80 to go horse-power,
under charge of the English or rather Scotch engineer, Mr. David
Duguid, who had taken the place of the two Arab firemen, began
with 7 1/2 knots an hour, 68 revolutions per minute, and a
pressure of 9 lbs. to the square inch. The condenser-vacuum was
26 inches (30 being complete)--13 lbs. Next morning the rate
declined to six miles in consequence of the boiler leaking, and
matters became steadily worse. As a French writer says of the
genre humain, we were placed, not entre le bien et le mal, but
entre le mal et le pire. After sundry narrow escapes in the Gulf
of 'Akabah, we were saved, as will be seen, by a manner of
miracles. Briefly, the Mukhbir caused us much risk, heartburn,
and loss of time.

Seven a.m. (December 11th) found us crossing the Birkat
Fara'un--Pharaoh's Gulf--some sixty miles from the great port.
Its horrors to native craft I have already described in my
"Pilgrimage." Between this point and Ras Za'faranah, higher up,
the wind seems to split: a strong southerly gale will be blowing,
whilst a norther of equal pressure prevails at the Gulf-head, and
vice versa. Suez, indeed, appears to be, in more ways than one, a
hydrographical puzzle. When it is low water in and near the
harbour, the flow is high between the Straits of Jobal and the
Daedalus Light; and the ebb tide runs out about two points across
the narrows, whilst the flood runs in on a line parallel with it.
Finally, when we returned, hardly making headway against an angry
norther, Suez, enjoying the "sweet south," was congratulating the
voyagers upon their weather.

The loss of a good working day soon made itself felt. The north
wind rose, causing the lively Mukhbir, whose ballast, by-the-by,
was all on deck, to waddle dangerously for the poor mules; and it
was agreed, nem. con., to put into Tor harbour. We found
ourselves at ten a.m. (December 12th) within the natural pier of
coralline, and we were not alone in our misfortune; an English
steamer making Suez was our companion. This place has superseded
El Wijh as the chief quarantine station for the return
pilgrimage; and I cannot sufficiently condemn the change.[EN#17]
The day lagged slowly, as we

"Walked in grief by the merge of the many-voiced
sounding sea."

But we looked in vain for our "tender," a Sambuk of fifty tons,
El-Musahhil (Rais Ramazan), which Prince Husayn had thoughtfully
sent with us as post-boat. She disappeared on the evening of the
11th, and she did not make act of presence until the 16th, when
her master was at once imprisoned in the fort of El-Muwaylah.
Moreover, the owner, Mohammed Bukhayt, of Suez, who had received
L90 as advance for three months--others said L60 for
four--provided her with only a few days' provisions, leaving us
to ration his crew.

A wintry norther in these latitudes is not easily got rid of.
According to the people, here, as in the 'Akabah Gulf, it lasts
three days, and dies after a quiet noon; whereas on the 13th,
when we expected an escape, it rose angrily at one p.m. I was
much cheered by the pleasant news of M. Bianchi, the local
Deputato di Sanita, who assured us that a pernicieuse was raging
at El-Muwaylah, and that it was certain death to pass one night
in the fort. The only fire that emitted all this smoke was the
fact that during the date-harvest of North-Western Arabia, July
and August, agues are common; and that at all seasons the well
water is not "honest," and is supposed to breed trifling chills.
In the Prairies of the Far West I heard of a man who rode some
hundreds of miles to deliver himself of a lie. Nothing like
solitude and the Desert for freshening the fancy. Another
individual who was much exercised by our journey was Khwajeh
Konstantin, a Syrian-Greek trader, son of the old agent of the
convent, whose blue goggles and comparatively tight pantaloons
denoted a certain varnish and veneer. It is his practice to visit
El-Muwaylah once every six months; when he takes, in exchange for
cheap tobacco, second-hand clothes, and poor cloth, the coral,
the pearls fished for in April, the gold dust, the finds of coin,
and whatever else will bring money. Such is the course and custom
of these small monopolists, who, at "Raitha" and elsewhere, much
dislike to see quiet things moved.

At length, after a weary day of far niente, when even le sommeil
se faisait prier, we "hardened our hearts," and at nine p.m., as
the gale seemed to slumber, we stood southwards. The Mukhbir
rolled painfully off Ras Mohammed, which obliged us with its own
peculiar gusts; and the 'Akabah Gulf, as usual, acted wind-sail.
A long detour was necessary in order to spare the mules, which,
however, are much less liable to injury, under such
circumstances, than horses, having a knack of learning to use
sea-legs.

The night was atrocious; so was the next morning; but about noon
we were cheered by the sight of the glorious mountain-walls of
well-remembered Midian, which stood out of the clear blue sky in
passing grandeur of outline, in exceeding splendid dour of
colouring, and in marvellous sharpness of detail. Once more the
"power of the hills" was on us.

Three p.m. had struck before we found ourselves in broken water
off the fort of El-Muwaylah, where our captain cast a single
anchor, and where we had our first escape from drifting upon the
razor-like edges of the coralline reefs. In fact, everything
looked so menacing, with surging sea around and sable
storm-clouds to westward, that I resolved upon revisiting our old
haunt, the safe and dock-like Sharm Yaharr. Here we entered
without accident; and were presently greeted by the Sayyid 'Abd
el-Rahim, our former Kafilah-bashi, who had ridden from
El-Muwaylah to receive us. The news was good: a truce of one
month had been concluded between the Huwaytat and the Ma'azah,
probably for the better plundering of the pilgrims. This year the
latter were many: the "Wakfah," or standing upon Mount Ararat,
fell upon a Friday; consequently it was a Hajj el-Akbar, or
"Greater Pilgrimage," very crowded and very dangerous, in more
ways than one.

I had given a free passage to one Sulayman Aftahi, who declared
himself to be of the Beni 'Ukbah, when he was a Huwayti of the
Jerafin clan. After securing a free passage and provision gratis,
when the ship anchored, he at once took French leave. On return I
committed him to the tender mercies of the Governor, Sa'id Bey.
The soldiers, the quarry-men, and the mules were landed, and the
happy end of the first stage brought with it a feeling of intense
relief, like that of returning to Alexandria. Hitherto everything
had gone wrong: the delays and difficulties at Cairo; at Suez,
the death of poor Marius Isnard and the furious storm; the
break-down of the engine; the fire in the wasteroom; and, lastly,
the rough and threatening gale between the harbour and
El-Muwaylah. What did the Wise King mean by "better is the end of
a thing than the beginning thereof"? I only hope that it may be
applicable to the present case. In the presence of our working
ground all evils were incontinently forgotten; and, after the
unusual dankness of the Egyptian capital, and the blustering
winds of the Gulf and the sea, the soft and delicate air of the
Midian shore acted like a cordial. For the first time after
leaving Alexandria, I felt justified in taper de l'oeil with the
clearest of consciences.

The preliminary stage ended with disembarking at the Fort,
El-Muwaylah, all our stores and properties, including sundry
cases of cartridges and five hundred pounds of pebble-powder,
which had been stored immediately under the main cabin and its
eternal cigarettes and allumettes. The implements, as well as the
provisions, were made over to the charge of an old Albanian, one
Rajab Agha, who at first acted as our magazine-man for a
consideration of two napoleons per month, in advance if possible.
This done, the Mukhbir returned into the dock Yaharr, in order to
patch up her kettle, which seemed to grow worse under every
improvement. We accompanied her, after ordering a hundred camels
to be collected; well knowing that as this was the Bairam, 'Id,
or "Greater Festival," nothing whatever would be done during its
three days' duration.

The respite was not unwelcome to me; it seemed to offer an
opportunity for recovering strength. At Cairo I had taken the
advice of a learned friend (if not an "Apostle of Temperance," at
any rate sorely afflicted with the temperance idea), who, by
threats of confirmed gout and lumbago, fatty degeneration of the
heart and liver, ending in the possible rupture of some valve,
had persuaded me that man should live upon a pint of claret per
diem. How dangerous is the clever brain with a monomania in it!
According to him, a glass of sherry before dinner was a poison,
whereas half the world, especially the Eastern half, prefers its
potations preprandially; a quarter of the liquor suffices, and
both appetite and digestion are held to be improved by it. The
result of "turning over a new leaf," in the shape of a phial of
thin "Gladstone," was a lumbago which lasted me a long month, and
which disappeared only after a liberal adhibition of "diffusible
stimulants."

It required no small faith in one's good star to set out for a
six weeks' work in the Desert under such conditions. My
consolation, however, was contained in the lines attributed to
half a dozen who wrote good English:--

"He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,
Who dares not put it to the touch,
To gain or lose it all."

This time, however, Mind was tranquil, whatever Matter might
suffer. As the novelist says, "Lighting upon a grain of gold or
silver betokens that a mine of the precious metal must be in the
neighbourhood." It had been otherwise with my first Expedition: a
forlorn hope, a miracle of moral audacity; the heaviest of
responsibilities incurred upon the slightest of justifications,
upon the pinch of sand which a tricky and greedy old man might
readily have salted. It reminds me of a certain "Philip sober,"
who in the morning fainted at the sight of the precipice which he
had scaled when "Philip drunk." I look back with amazement upon
No. I.

NOTE.

The second Khedivial Expedition to Midian was composed of the
following officers and men. The European staff numbered four, not
including the commander, viz.:--

M. George Marie, of the Etat-Major, Egyptian army, an engineer
converted into a geologist and mineralogist; he was under the
orders of his Highness Prince Husayn Pasha.

Mr. J. Charles J. Clarke, telegraphic engineer, ranking as major
in Egypt, commissariat officer.

M. Emile Lacaze, of Cairo, artist and photographer.

M. Jean Philipin, blacksmith.

Besides these, Mr. David Duguid,--not related to "Hafed, Prince
of Persia,"--chief engineer of the gunboat Mukhbir (Captain
Mohammed Siraj), accompanied us part of the way on temporary
leave, and kindly assisted me in observing meteorology and in
making collections.

The Egyptian commissioned officers numbered six, viz.:--

Ahmed Kaptan Musallam, commander in the navy, and ranking as
Sakulaghasi (major). He had been first officer in the Sinnar, and
he was sent to make astronomical observations; but he proved to
be a confirmed invalid.

Of the Arkan-Harb (Staff) were:--

Lieutenant Amir Rushdi, who had accompanied me before.

Lieutenant Yusuf Taufik.

Lieutenant Darwaysh Ukkab, of the Piyedah or infantry. He was
also a great sufferer on a small scale.

Sub-Lieutenant Mohammed Farahat, of the Muhandism (Engineers), in
charge of the Laggamgiyyah or Haggarah (blasters and quarrymen).
He ended by deserting his duty on arrival at Cairo.

The non-commissioned officers, all Egyptians, amounted to
seven:--

Buluk-amin (writer) Mohammed Sharkawi (infantry).

Chawush (serjeant) 'Atwah El-Ashiri (infantry).

Chawush (serjeant) Mabruk Awadh (quarryman); deserted at Cairo.

Onbashi (corporal) Higazi Ammar (Staff).

Onbashi (corporal) Mohammed Sulayman (infantry) : also our
barber, and a good man.

Onbashi (corporal) Mahmu'd Abd el-Rahman (infantry): I had to put
him in irons.

Onbashi (corporal) Ibrahim Hedib.

There were three Nafar (privates) of the Staff:--

'Ali 'Brahim Ma'danji, generally known as Ali Marie, from the
officer whom he served; a hard-working man, over-devoted to his
master. I recommended him for promotion.

Ramazan Ramazan.

Hasan Mohammed. He proved useful, as he brought with him all the
necessary tools for mending saddles.

The twenty-five privates of infantry were emancipated negroes, a
few being from the Sudan; composed of every tribe, it was a
curious mixture, good, bad, and indifferent. Some were slaves who
had been given, in free gift, by their owners to the Miri
(Government), and men never part with a good "chattel," except
for a sufficient cause. As will be seen, many of the names are
"fancy":--

Sayyid Ahmed El-Tawil.

Yusuf Faragallah (Faraj-Allah).

Farag 'Ali.

Sa'id Hasan Basha'. His owner was a Fellah called Hasan
Basha--peasants often give this title as a name to a boy who is
born under fortunate circumstances. Sa'id was a fat, jolly
fellow, a Sidi Bhai from the Mrima, or mainland of Zanzibar, who
had wholly forgotten his Kisawahili. Corporal Mahmud was punished
for keeping him eighteen hours on guard. He was one of the very
few to whom I gave "bakhshish" after returning to Cairo.

Sa'id El-Sa'id.

Mirsal Ginaydi.

Mabruk Rizk.

Abdullah Mohammed Zaghul.

Sa'id Katab.

Faragallah Sharaf el-Din.

Farag Salih.

Surur Mustafa.

Salamat el-Nahhas; an excellent and intelligent man, who was
attached to the service of M. Lacaze. He distinguished himself by
picking up antiques, until his weakness, the Da el-Faranj, found
him out.

Farag Ahmed Bura'i.

Farag Mohammed Amin.

Mirgan Sulayman.

'Abd el-Maula.

Mohammedayn.

Mabruk Hasan Osman.

Khayr Ramazan, a large and sturdy negro, from Dar-Wadai, with
long cuts down both sides of his face; a hard-working and
intelligent soldier, who naturally took command of his fellows. I
made him an acting corporal, and on return recommended him for
promotion.

Fadl 'Allah 'Ali el-Kholi, a Shilluk, one of the worst tribes of
the Upper Nile, whom it is forbidden to enlist. He began by
refusing to obey an order, he pushed an officer out of his way,
and he struck an Arab Shaykh. Consequently, he passed the greater
part of the time in durance vile at the fort of El-Muwaylah.

Mirgan Yusuf; flogged for insolence to his officer, January 19.

Abdullah Ibrahim.

Ibrahim Kattab.

Mabruk Mansur Agwah.

The Boruji (bugler) Mersal Abu Dunya, a "character" who retires
for practice to lonely hills and vales. His progress is not equal
to his zeal and ambition.

The thirty quarrymen were all Egyptians, and it would be hard to
find a poorer lot; they never worked, save under compulsion, and
they stole whatever they could. I examined their packs during the
homeward cruise, and found that many of them had secreted
Government gunpowder:--

Ahmed Ashiri.

Ahmed Badr.

Ahmed el-Wakil.

Omar Sharkawi.

5. Mustafa Husayn.

Ismail el-Wa'i.

'Ali Zalat.

Ali 'Abd el-Rahman.

Mustafa Salim.

10. 'Ali Bedawi.

Hanna Bisha'i.

Hamed Hanafi.

Hamed Wahlah.

Mustafa Sa'dani (died of fever at El-Muwaylah).

15. Mahmu'd Gum'ah.,

Abu Zayd Hassa'nah.

Ismail Dusuki.

Sukk el-Fakih.

Isa el-Dimiki.

20. 'Ali Atwadh.

Mohammed Sulayman.

Ibra'hi'm 'Ali Mohammed.

'Ali Isa.

Mohammed 'Abd el-Zahir.

25. 'Ali Wahish.

Abbasi Mansur (a tinman by trade, but without tools).

Galut Ali.

Usman Amir.

Alewa Ahmed.

30. Mohammed Ajizah.

And lastly (31), the carpenter, 'Ali Sulayman; a "knowing
dodger," who brought with him a little stock-in-trade of tobacco,
cigarette-paper, and similar comforts.

There were five soldiers, or rather matchlock-men, engaged from
the fort-garrison, El-Muwaylah:--

Husayn Bayrakdar; a man who has travelled, and has become too
clever by half. He was equally remarkable as a liar and as a
cook.

Bukhayt Ahmed, generally known as El-Ahmar from his red coat; a
Dinka slave, some sixty years old, and looking forty-five. He was
still a savage, never sleeping save in the open air.

Bukhayt Mohammed, popularly termed El-Aswad; a Forawi
(Dar-Forian) and a good man. He was called "The Shadow of the
Bey."

Ahmed Salih; a stout fellow, and the worst of guides.

Salim Yusuf.

The head of the caravan was the Sayyid' Abd el-Rahim, accountant
at the Fort el-Muwaylah, of whom I have spoken before. He was
subsequently recommended by me to his Highness for the post of
Nazir or commandant.

Haji Wali, my old Cairene friend, who lost no time in bolting.

There were also generally three Bedawi Shaykhs, who, by virtue of
their office, received each one dollar (twenty piastres) per
diem.

The servants and camp followers were:--

Anton Dimitriadis, the dragoman; a Bakkal or small shopkeeper at
Zagazig, and a tenant of Haji Wali.

Giorgi (Jorgos) Sifenus, the cook, whose main disadvantage was
his extreme and ultra-Greek uncleanliness.

Petro Giorgiadis, of Zante; a poor devil who has evidently been a
waiter in some small Greek cafe which supplies a cup per hour.

These three men were a great mistake; but, as has been said, poor
health at Cairo prevented my looking into details.

Yusuf el-Fazi, Dumanji or quartermaster from the Mukhbir, acting
servant to Captain Ahmed, and a thoroughly good man. He was also
recommended for promotion.

Ahmed, the Sais or mule-groom; another pauvre diable, rascally
withal, who was flogged for selling the mules' barley to the
Bedawin. He was assisted by the Corporal (and barber) Mohammed
Sulayman and by five quarrymen.

Husayn Ganinah; a one-eyed little Fellah, fourteen years old,
looking ten, and knowing all that a man of fifty knows. He was
body-servant to Lieutenant Yusuf.

As usual, the caravan was accompanied by a suttler from
El-Muwaylah, one Hamad, who sold tobacco, coffee, clarified
butter, and so forth. He was chaffed with the saying, Hamad fi'
bayt ak--"Thy house is a pauper."

Finally, there were two dogs: Juno, a Clumber spaniel, young and
inexperienced; Paiki, a pariah, also a pup.

Besides these two permanents, various "casuals," the dog 'Brahim,
etc., attached themselves to our camp.

Chapter II.
The Start--from El-muwaylah to the "White Mountain" and 'Aynuah.

I landed at El-Muwaylah, described in my last volume,[EN#18] on
the auspicious Wednesday, December 19, 1877, under a salute from
the gunboat Mukhbir, which the fort answered with a rattle and a
patter of musketry. All the notables received us, in line drawn
up on the shore, close to our camp. To the left stood the
civilians in tulip-coloured garb; next were the garrison, a dozen
Bash-Buzuks en bourgeois, and mostly armed with matchlocks; then
came out quarrymen in uniform, but without weapons; and, lastly,
the escort (twenty-five men) held the place of honour on the
right. The latter gave me a loud "Hip! hip! hurrah!" as I passed.
The tents, a total of twenty, including two four-polers for our
mess and for the stores, with several large canvas sheds--pals,
the Anglo-Indian calls them--gleamed white against the dark-green
fronds of the date-grove; and the magnificent background of the
scene was the "Dibbagh" block of the Tiha'mah, or lowland
mountains.

The usual "palaver" at once took place; during which everything
was "sweet as honey." After this pleasant prelude came the normal
difficulties and disagreeables--it had been reported that I was
the happy possessor of L22,000 mostly to be spent at El-MuwayIah.
The unsettled Arabs plunder and slay; the settled Arabs slander
and cheat.

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