Chapter XXXIV: Letter XXXI

_On the Red Sea, between Gebel Zeït and Tôr. Good Friday.
The commencement of Spring. 21st March, 1845._

Our vessel lies motionless in the midst of the sea, in sight of the distant coast of Tôr, which we hoped to have reached in the course of last night. I sit down to write in order to divest myself of the annoying state of impatience necessarily resulting from an exceedingly inconvenient and protracted calm, under a sultry mid-day sun, in a sailing vessel, adapted only for bales of goods.

On the 20th of February we changed our abode in Thebes from the western to the eastern bank, from Qurna to Karnak. We settled ourselves here in some chambers of the great royal temple; but as I was desirous of setting out on my journey to the Peninsula of Sinai as soon as possible, I limited myself for the time, to merely taking such a survey of the monuments as was absolutely necessary, in order to enable me to appoint the work that was to be done during my absence.

The 3rd of March I set out on my journey. The younger Weidenbach accompanied me, in order to give me some assistance in the drawings, which would be absolutely required: besides him, I took our Dragoman Jussuf along with me, the Kawass Ibrahim Aga, Gabre Máriam, and two additional servants. We first went down the Nile as far as Qeneh. After it became dark and the stars had risen, the conversation, which had hitherto been animated, ceased, and, lying on the deck, I watched the star of Isis, the sparkling Sothis (Sirius), this Polar star of Egyptian chronology, as it gradually ascended over our heads. Our two oarsmen were only too musically inclined, and went through their whole stock of songs, quivering them with innumerable repetitions, sometimes interrupted by the short cry of _Scherk_, _Gharb_ (East, West), which was softly answered by the feeble and obedient boy’s voice of our little steersman. Half waking, half dreaming, we then glided down the river till about midnight, when the Arab quivering also ceased; the strokes of the oar became fainter, and at length the boat was left entirely to the waves. The rising of the moon in her last quarter, and dawning day, first aroused them to renewed activity.

We arrived early in Qeneh, where we were very kindly received in the house of the illustrious Seïd Hussên. He is the important man through whose hands all our letters pass, both going and coming, and who is thus highly deserving of our gratitude. He and his two sons were of great assistance to us in obtaining the innumerable things which were requisite for our departure for the desert, which we were desirous of accelerating as much as possible. Meanwhile, I was delighted with the patriarchal manners which prevailed in this most estimable Arabian family. All business was carried on there, as it is throughout the East, in public, and most commonly in the street. In front of each house there is a long divan, another in the room; friends come in, make a short salutation, sit down almost unnoticed, and business goes on as usual. Guests of higher rank are offered coffee, or the long pipe. Slaves stand round, ready at the slightest sign. Acquaintance of inferior rank kiss the hand of the master of the house, even if they are only passers by; they do it all seriously and quietly, without the least demonstration of feeling, but with the usual greetings, frequently murmured for a long time from one to another. If there is no more space left on the divan, or if it is occupied by persons of higher rank, the new comer squats down on the ground beside it. Every one rises and goes at his pleasure, and, what strikes us as very singular, without any parting words, though the forms of greeting are so long. The master of the house, also, quits his guests without any salutation, if the visitor is not a person of distinction; when such is the case, he is frequently detained for a long while by the monotonous, and almost always empty, conversation. This domestic life in the street, such as prevailed more or less among the ancient Greeks and Romans, and which is so fundamentally different from the life in our studies and offices, is closely united with the Eastern character in general. Individuals always deport themselves with propriety and reserve, but they are compliant, and ready for anything that occurs. In respectable families, such as this, there also exists an amiable religious feeling, originating in a true and kindly disposition. Old Hussên is above seventy, with a white beard, but, in spite of his age, taking a lively interest in all that occurs, and meeting every one in a friendly manner. The two sons, who are nearly fifty, carry on the business. They treat the old man with extreme reverence. Both are great smokers, but they never smoke in the presence of their father; this would be regarded as a want of the respect which is due to him; they immediately lay aside their pipes when he enters. In the evening after supper, when it would have been too great a privation to resign them, the sons sit in front of the threshold to smoke; while we, as the guests, sit with the old man in the room, they only take part in the conversation through the open door.

The evening before our departure we visited a manufactory of the celebrated Qulleh (cooling vessels), 200,000 of which are annually made; and also the field from which the clay of which they are made is taken. It is only one Feddan (160 square roods) in extent.

After spending a couple of days at Qeneh, we quitted it, on the 6th March, with fifteen camels. The first day we only rode three hours, as far as the copious spring of BIR AMBAR, charmingly situated between Palms and Nebek-trees,[61] and provided by Ibrahim Pascha with a dome-shaped building for the caravans. We also reached early on the following day the second night-encampment, at the station of Leqêta. The ancient road to Kossêr from Koptos, the present Quft, the mounds of which we saw in the distance on our right hand, leads immediately to the projecting mountains of El Qorn (the Horns). We did not descend into the broad Kossêr road until we approached these mountains, and after a march of six hours arrived at LEQÊTA at the junction of the roads from Qeneh, Quft (Koptos), Qûs (the ancient ⲕⲱⲥ or _Apollinopolis parva_), and a fourth road, also, leading direct from Luqsor hither. Five wells furnish here a supply of tolerably good water; two buildings, with domes half fallen down, are destined for the reception of travellers.

I here noticed a trait of Arabian hospitality which I must also mention. At our last repast at Qeneh a fresh draught of the delicious Nile water was brought me in an ornamental gilt cup, decorated with pious sayings from the Koran. I was pleased with its simple and yet agreeable form, the segment of a sphere, and expressed this to old Hussên, without anticipating the answer I immediately received:—“The cup belongs to you.” As I had nothing about me which I could give in return for the gift, I went away shortly after, declining the civility, and left the cup standing unnoticed. That night, when I went to rest, I found it placed beside my bed, but the following morning I gave express orders that it should not be packed up. We started on our journey, and in Leqêta, where for the first time I opened my travelling-bag, my surprise was great when the first thing I beheld was the cup carefully placed within it. Gabre Máriam had closed my baggage, and in reply to my almost angry inquiry how it was that the cup was here, contrary to my order, he confessed that he had been obliged to place it at the top, by the express wish of old Seïd Hussên. I was now, indeed, compelled to yield, and to think of some present for him, on my return.

We again started from Leqêta the same evening, and rode three hours farther to an old station, at the GEBEL MAÁUAD, very little used now, and deficient in water. Our Arabs, from the tribe of the Ag´aïze, are not so animated as the Ababde, or Bischariîn, and their camels are also inferior.

After Gebel Maáuad, we entered the hilly, sandy plain of QSUR EL BENAT, and after another pass, the plain of RESCHRASCHI. At the end of this, Gebel ABU GUEH rises on the left, upon which we turned our backs and went to the right, round an angle of rock, on the precipitous sides of which, composed of sandstone, I found engraved the Shields of the sun-worshipper Amenophis IV., along with his consort, and over it the Sun, with rays spread out like hands around it. Their names, as everywhere else, were partly erased, although the King had not yet altered his name into that of BECH-EN-ATEN. Towards mid-day we entered the primitive mountain range, and in three-quarters of an hour arrived at the well of HAMAMÂT.

There appears to have been an ancient Coptic settlement here, and the broad well, about 80 feet deep, lined with stones, into which there is a descent by a winding staircase, is even now ascribed by the Arabs to the Nazarenes (the Christians). The ancient stone-quarries, which were our most immediate object, were situated another half hour from the well.

I pitched my head-quarters here, in a spacious grotto covered with Egyptian and Greek inscriptions, as, by a hasty survey, we easily perceived that we should find work which would occupy us for several days. The ancient Egyptians, who were great lovers and eminent connoisseurs of remarkable kinds of stone, had here found a bed of precious green breccia, and beside it, also, some beautiful dark-coloured veins of granite, which were worked as early as the 6th Dynasty, rather more than B.C. 2000. There are numerous memorial inscriptions engraved on the surrounding rocks since that period. Among them there are several especially deserving notice, from the time of the Persian Government. The hieroglyphic shields of Cambyses, Darius, Xerxes, Artaxerxes, are indeed almost alone known in this spot; and a royal state architect from the Dynasty of the Psammeteci, has displayed his whole pedigree, no less than twenty-three families, who, _without one exception_, held this important post, and some of them also, in connection with high priestly honours. An ancestral mother stands at the head of the long series, who must have lived nearly 700 years before the last link of the chain. A great number of Greek Proskynemata allow us to infer that the stone-quarries were still used in the time of the Greeks and Romans. For five whole days we were occupied from morning to night with copying and taking impressions, to the continual wonder of the small caravans which we saw almost daily pass before us, as the principal road by which the pilgrims of Upper Egypt, and a great part of the Sudan, pass to Kossêr and Mecca, leads through this valley.

My original plan had been to go from Qeneh to Kossêr, and to embark thence for Tôr. As the voyage, however, occupies a great deal of time, I was very glad to learn in Qeneh that there is also a road from Hamamât, across the mountain chain to Gebel Zeït, nearly opposite Tôr. I therefore determined to take that road, difficult, indeed, but interesting, and far shorter. At the same time I sent a messenger in advance to Kossêr to give orders that a vessel should start for Gebel Zeït without delay, and await us there.

In Hamamât I had also a severe contest with the Arabs, who suddenly became apprehensive of the long road, but little known and almost devoid of water, and who wanted rather to guide us by Kossêr along the coast. But as my principal object was to visit certain ancient stone-quarries in the lofty mountain range, I threatened, if they did not keep their word, to write to the Pascha, and I made them responsible for all the consequences. Thus after long capitulations I accomplished my plan. Nevertheless, it was still very nearly upset, as, on the evening before our departure, we were almost poisoned by the carelessness of our cook, who had allowed some vinegar to stand in copper vessels. However, we recovered happily after a night of great suffering, and on the 13th March started from Hamamât.

We had brought with us six barrels full of water from Qeneh; the camel-drivers were worse provided, and must consequently have suffered much from thirst. Besides Selâm, our old trustworthy guide of the caravan, I had brought with me in addition a special guide from Qeneh, Selîm, who was said to be well acquainted with the mountainous district between Hamamât and Gebel Zeït, although he had only made the journey once before, above twelve years ago; and under his guidance, we got in two days as far as GEBEL FATIREH. After great labour and long searching, we re-discovered the remains of the ancient colony of workmen, who quarried here a beautiful black and white granite. From this point, however, the ignorance of the guide was manifested in many ways. On the evening of the 15th of March we arrived at a high water-shed, and were compelled to pass the night on the hard rocky ground, there being no possibility of pitching a tent. The following day, Palm Sunday, we suddenly came early in the morning upon a steep precipice, which descends about 800 feet between the two chains of the MUNFÎEH mountain range. It seemed impossible to pass the steep and dangerous path with a caravan. The Arabs one and all protested in the most decided manner against attempting it, and poured forth the most violent curses upon Selîm. He was in a difficult position. He had evidently not known the difficulties of this pass; the roads that are passable, though it is true they are very circuitous, lead either by NECHEL DELFA, eastward, or by SCHAIB EL BENAT, westward of this spot. To strike into one of these two roads now, would have at least cost us two more days, and as we had already lost a great deal of time at Gebel Fatireh, we should have run into still greater danger of a deficiency of water, as our supply had been calculated very exactly, and between Hamamât and Gebel Zeït we had only the prospect of one single spring, which was said to be situated near Gebel Dochân. I therefore gave orders, and carried my point in spite of the most violent protestations to the contrary, that all the camels should be unloaded on the height, and that the whole of the baggage should be carried down on the shoulders of the Arabs. My own servants had to begin, and we all set to work together. Chests and trunks were taken singly from one point of rock to another; we had most difficulty in managing the great water-casks, which could only be moved by three or four people at once. The unloaded beasts were then carefully led down, and thus the bold enterprise terminated successfully without any accident or injury, amid loud and fervent appeals to Abd el Qader, the sacred patron of the camel. After three toilsome hours, all was over, and the beasts were again loaded.

Soon after, however, we were to encounter a far more serious danger. I was as usual riding in advance with Max and some of the servants, and had charged the caravan to follow the footmarks of my ass in the sand. Towards mid-day we saw GEBEL DOCHÂN, “the Smoking Mountain,” on our left hand, rising deep blue beyond the Munfîeh chain, and several hours afterwards, when we emerged from the higher mountains into an undulating and more open country, on the farther side of the wide plain, and beyond the sea, we, for the first time, saw the distant mountains of Tôr, like rising mist, situated in the third quarter of the globe, which we were now about to enter.

Soon after three o’clock we came to two Bedouin huts made of mats, in which we found a woman, and a dark-skinned boy, with beautiful eyes, who gave us some milk. On my inquiring whether there were ancient walls in the neighbourhood, the boy conducted us to a piece of granite rock, one hour distant, standing isolated, surrounded by a rough, but well piled up, wall, about 10 feet high. The square, in which the above-mentioned rock formed the acropolis, was 70 paces long, and 60 broad; the entrance from the south was furnished with two circular bastions; and similar ones stood at the four corners, and in the centre of the three remaining sides. In the interior single chambers were partitioned off, and in the centre there was a well of burnt bricks, but which was now covered with rubbish.[62]

According to the statements of our guide, we ought now to have been near the water that was said to be only one half day’s journey distant from our last night’s encampment. But the sun went down without our having reached the desired goal. By the dim light of the moon in her first quarter, we at length turned into a lofty rock-valley, which Selîm assured us would certainly lead to the spring. We ascended for a long time between bare granite precipices; the moon set, no well appeared, and the guide confessed that he had missed the right valley. We were obliged to turn back. The same thing occurred in a second and a third valley into which the guide conducted us, who was now evidently quite lost, having altered his direction more than once. He excused himself on the plea of uncertain moonlight, and assured us that at break of day he would immediately discover the right path. Nothing, therefore, remained but to lie down on the hard ground, in our light riding-dresses, to take a short disturbed sleep, without eating or drinking; for our water-bottles had long been emptied, and we had each of us, some time before, devoured our small provision of four biscuits. Some camel-saddles were our only protection from the cold north wind. Thus, with the stars above and the stones beneath us, we placed our hopes in the following morning.

With the dawn of day we again mounted. My ass, who had taken the last scanty ration of water that had been measured out for it, more than four-and-twenty hours back, and could not endure thirst like the camels, would scarcely go a step farther. Selîm, however, was in good heart, and thought we should soon get back to the right road. We found innumerable marks of camels. “Only a little while longer,” exclaimed the guide, “and we shall be all right.” Our hope was again revived.

Beautiful variegated blocks of granite and porphyry, which I saw lying among the loose stones, were joyful signs to me of the vicinity of the _Mons porphyrites_. Meanwhile, the broad valley into which we had turned constantly became narrower, and divided into two branches, the right of which we ascended. But this also divided once more, and like the valleys described above, everything round us led to the sad conviction that here we were again upon the wrong path; I made a halt to give some rest to our tired animals, and sent the guide forward alone to find out his right road. Hungry, and above all, thirsting for a draught of water, we encamped in the shadow of a rock-precipice. We were in a critical position. I had begun to doubt whether our guide would ever find the spring in this desert and uniformly barren mountainous region. And where was our caravan? Had it found its way to the water? If, as hitherto had been the case, it had followed the footmarks of my ass, which were distinguished singly among the innumerable tracks of camels, then it was lost like ourselves. We waited impatiently for Selîm; he could at least lead us back to the Arab huts, which we had seen the previous day. But one hour after the other passed away: Selîm did not come. The sun rose higher, and deprived us of the narrow shadow of the mountain precipice, beside which we had halted. We sat silent upon the burning stones. We did not venture to leave the spot for fear of missing Selîm. Had he met with an accident, or could he have forgotten himself so far as only to think of his own preservation, and to leave us to our fate, which is said to have happened some years ago to three Turks, in this same desert, who were never seen again? Or was Selîm too weary to return back to us? He had been on foot almost all the way, and must consequently be much more exhausted than we were.

From time to time we mounted the nearest heights, and fired off our guns. All in vain! We were at length compelled to yield to the cheerless conviction that we should not see our guide again. After waiting four hours, mid-day had arrived, and with it the latest time to start, if we could still cling to the faint hope of again finding out the Arab huts, which must be about six hours distant from us. To search any longer for the spring of water would have been madness, as even Selîm had not found it; Gebel Zeït, where our vessel lay, was two and a half days’ journey distant, and the Nile, on the other side of the mountain range, five days’ journey off: the camels had drank nothing for four days, and the ass was already completely exhausted.

We, therefore, started once more. My companions had done everything that I proposed, but I never felt more severely the responsibility I was under for others, whose lives were at stake with my own, than when forming that lingering determination. It seemed foolhardy to think of travelling without our guide, only directed by the stars, in this totally uninhabited and barren mountainous land, lost as we already were, and brought still more out of our right direction by the crossed and crooked paths we had pursued during the night; nevertheless, it was our last resource.

After deliberating for some time, we determined to ride back to the principal valley, which we had passed through that morning so full of hope; the endless variety of bare, jagged mountain precipices, however, and the valleys without a tree or bush, filled only with rubbish and loose stones, leave such a completely uniform impression, that none of us would ever have recognised this principal valley, had we not felt sure that we were right by the direction and probable distance. At the outlet of this valley we were obliged again to enter the region of the lower hills, between which, towards the south, it seemed at least there was a possibility of finding the Arab huts, as I had taken the position of the magnet, with reference to the highest point of Dochân, from the mountain fortress, which was not too far removed from that spot. The huts, indeed, were so concealed, that we might ride past them at a short distance without observing them; perhaps, even the mats might to-day be set up in a different place. Thus we were lost in the wide, burning desert, without a guide, tormented by increasing hunger and thirst, and so far as human calculation went, wholly in the hands of chance. Silently we descended in the burning, mid-day heat, each occupied with his own reflections, when suddenly—I shall never forget that moment—two men emerged from the nearest angle of the rock; they rushed towards us, embraced our knees, kissed our hands, offered us water from their pitchers, and continued to repeat their congratulations and salutations with touching joy. “El hamdu l’illah!” Praised be God! sounded from all sides. We were saved.

Our caravan, from which the two Arabs came, had as usual followed our traces, and therefore, like us, got into the wrong road; but Ibrahim Aga, soon perceiving our error, had halted early in the day, and during the night kindled small fires on some of the hills with the scanty materials for burning which had been collected with difficulty, and he had almost fired off all his powder. But the wind blew towards the opposite quarter, and we heard none of the signals of our anxious comrades. The following morning they had proceeded onwards, and owing to Sheikh Selâm’s surprising knowledge of the locality, though he had only once been here above five-and-twenty years before, they reached the road to the spring. Nevertheless, Ibrahim Aga made the caravan encamp one hour before arriving at it, as all traces of us had disappeared, and anxious about our fate, he sent patrols of Arabs into the mountains in search of us.

How strange, then, that during this very quarter of an hour we should have again struck into the great valley, where we could not fail to meet this message. As we had reached our side valley over the mountain, no marks of our beasts could lead thither, as here these generally disappeared upon the stones; had we therefore started but a few minutes later, they would certainly have passed us, and had we descended the valley earlier than this, we should have forthwith bent our steps to the right towards the huts, and turned our backs on the caravan, encamped far away on our left hand.

About two o’clock we reached the encampment, which we entered amidst universal cries of joy. The greatest surprise was expressed at not finding Selîm with us—he was given up by all. I would not, however, allow the camp to break up, but had the camels at once led alone to the spring. The Arabs were again sent into the mountains in search of Selîm, and I remained the rest of the day quietly in my tent.

Towards evening some Arabs returned from the spring, bearing with them, upon a camel, Selîm, hardly in possession of his senses, his feet bleeding and bound up. He had been found speechless, lying beside the reservoir of water, his mouth open, his body swollen from having taken an immoderate draught of the water. How he came there we could not immediately learn, for he answered none of our questions. He must, however, have at length found his way out of the high mountains accidentally, or by the wonderful faculty possessed by the Arab of following tracks. At present, perhaps, it was rather his fears of the serious consequences which might ensue from the wretched trick he had played us which rendered him speechless. When he observed that he had excited our compassion, he very soon recovered. I no longer, however, retained him near my person, but for the remainder of the journey took the old, trustworthy Sheikh Selâm as our guide in front, and left the former behind with the caravan.

GEBEL DOCHÂN, the porphyry mountain, our real object in this district, and which had occasioned the whole enterprise, now after all lay far behind us. We had been riding for several hours continuously at its base, as I had suspected even the day before, in spite of Selîm’s assurance to the contrary, for we had incorrectly fancied the spring was in its neighbourhood. None of the caravan had ever seen the stone-quarries and the remains of the ancient colony of workmen. Nevertheless, I determined to venture upon a second attempt the following day, which was successful.

I set out at daybreak with Max, the Sheikh Selâm, and a young, active Arab. The huts had not been observed by the caravan, and were also situated too much towards the east for us. We therefore rode straight towards the highest point of the group of Dochân. It so chanced, that just as we were in the neighbourhood of the river, we met an Abâdi from one of the huts with some camels, for which he was seeking out some pasture ground. With his assistance we soon attained our object.

We first found the large opening to a well built up with unhewn stones; it was 12 feet in diameter, but was now fallen to pieces and filled up with rubbish. Five pillars were still standing on the western side, most likely formerly belonging to a covered hall; a sixth was demolished. Three hundred paces farther up the valley a temple, now in ruins, was erected on a granite rock projecting from the left side of the valley. The walls were formed of unhewn stones, the finer parts of the architecture were, however, very delicately chiselled out of red granite. A staircase of twenty steps led from the north to the paved outer court, which was surrounded by a wall, and in the middle stood a rough granite altar. On the left hand four cell-chambers were attached to this court, the most southern of which, however, had partly fallen with its rock-basis. Another small chamber had been joined to these as the rock offered space for it, in which stood a tolerably large altar, but also without inscriptions. In front of these chambers, in the centre of the court, at an elevation of several feet, and with a foundation of sharply-cut blocks of granite, rose an Ionic portico, which consisted of four monolithic slender and swelling granite columns, whose bases and voluted capitals, with the blocks of the gables and architraves, lay scattered around in ruins. The long dedicatory inscriptions mentioned that the temple had been consecrated under the Emperor HADRIAN to ZEUS HELIOS SERAPIS, by the Eparch, Rammius Martialis. To the left of the well the ruins of the town are situated on an elevated spot. It was in the form of a square, and, as usual, fortified with towers. In the centre there was another well, the chief requisite of every station, built of burnt bricks, and covered with a coating of lime. Eight rough, slender, granite pillars form the entrance to the well.

An ancient precipitous road leads to the adjoining mountain, and conducts to the porphyry quarries, which were situated immediately beneath its summit; they furnished the beautiful deep red porphyry which is displayed in so many monuments of the imperial time. Broad veins of it, which were worked to a considerable depth, passed between another kind of rock of a blue colour, sprinkled with white, and a rock of almost a red brick colour. We found five or six quarries beside each other, the largest about 40 paces square. I could nowhere discover wedge-holes for splitting; on the contrary, the bluish rock immediately beside the quarry, which was pulverised nearly as fine as sand, seemed to indicate the application of fire. In the town, also, I found lofty and peculiar heaps of ashes.

From the quarries I ascended to the summit of the mountain, affording an extensive and glorious prospect over the mountains in the immediate vicinity to the plain, which declined rapidly from the hilly district to a sandy level extending to the sea; and on the opposite side of the blue surface of the water, we descried the lofty range of Tôr. After I had taken a number of observations with the compass I re-descended, and after sunset once more reached our camp at the MOIE MESSÂID.

The 19th of March we crossed the plain to the ENNED mountains, stretching along the sea-coast, which we traversed by a valley running diagonally across them. An abundant spring here came to the surface, whose rippling waters accompanied us for a long while. It might be considered the _Fons Tadnos_ of Pliny, as its water has only recently become brackish and undrinkable, from the bed of natron on the surface. We left the ruins of ABU SCHAR, the ancient _Myos hormos_ or _Philoteras portus_, on our right, and encamped on the peninsula of GIMSCHEH, which is called by the Arabs, KEBRIT, from the sulphur which is there obtained.

Yesterday morning we rode to the Bay of Gebel Zeït, between the Enned mountains and the sea-shore. The Range of Tôr, which floated before sunrise in a milky blue colour over the surface of the sea, stood out faintly from the sky; its outline only disappeared with the rising sun.

After mid-day we arrived at GEBEL ZEÏT, the oil mountain. Our vessel, which had been appointed to meet us from Kossêr, made the voyage from thence in six days, and had already waited four days for our arrival. The camels were dismissed here, and returned the same evening.

One quarter of an hour north of our anchorage were the ZEITIEH; such is the name given to five or six pits, hollowed out in the sandy shore, or in the rock, and which fill with blackish-brown naphtha, like syrup. A few years ago researches were set on foot by Em Bey, who was in hopes of finding coal beneath, though hitherto they have had no success.

Yesterday evening it was a perfect calm. It was only during the night that a light wind rose from the north, which we immediately availed ourselves of, for setting sail. With the wind in our favour we might have accomplished the passage across in one night; but now the day is again drawing to a close, and we have not yet reached the port. The ship of burden scarcely stirs, though the long oars have been at length set in motion.

The sailors of this sea are very different from those on the Nile. Their deportment is more reserved, less sly and subservient. Their songs, which commence at the first stroke of the oar, consist of fragmentary short lines, which are sung first by one, and are taken up by another, while the remainder utter short and deep grunting sounds, as an accompaniment, at equal intervals. The Rais, on an elevated seat, rows along with the others. He is a negro, as well as several others among the sailors, but one of the handsomest and strongest Moors that I ever saw—a real Othello; when making his athletic movements, he rolls his yellow-white eyes, shows his dazzling teeth, and gives the tone to the song, leading it for a length of time, with a shrill, piercing, but skilful voice.