After Two Hours’ Slow Marching Up The Fiumara Eastwards, We Saw In Front
Of Us A Wall Of Rock; And, Turning Abruptly Southwards, We Left The
Bed, And Ascended Rising Ground.
Already it was night; an hour,
however, elapsed before we saw, at a distance, the twinkling fires, and
heard the watch-cries of our camp.
It was
[p.63] pitched in a hollow, under hills, in excellent order; the Pasha’s
pavilion surrounded by his soldiers and guards disposed in tents, with
sentinels, regularly posted, protecting the outskirts of the
encampment. One of our men, whom we had sent forward, met us on the
way, and led us to an open place, where we unloaded the camels, raised
our canvas home, lighted fires, and prepared, with supper, for a good
night’s rest. Living is simple on such marches. The pouches inside and
outside the Shugduf contain provisions and water, with which you supply
yourself when inclined. At certain hours of the day, ambulant vendors
offer sherbet, lemonade, hot coffee, and water-pipes admirably
prepared.[FN#6] Chibuks may be smoked in the litter; but few care to do
so during the Samu[m]. The first thing, however, called for at the
halting-place is the pipe, and its delightfully soothing influence,
followed by a cup of coffee, and a “forty winks” upon the sand, will awaken
an appetite not to be roused by other means. How could Waterton, the
traveller, abuse a pipe? During the night-halt, provisions are cooked:
rice, or Kichri, a mixture of pulse and rice, is eaten with Chutnee and
lime-pickle, varied, occasionally, by tough mutton and indigestible
goat.
We arrived at Ja al-Sharifah at eight P.M., after a march of about
twenty-two miles.[FN#7] This halting-place is
[p.64] the rendezvous of Caravans: it lies 50° south-east of Al-Madinah,
and belongs rather to Nijd than to Al-Hijaz.
At three A.M., on Thursday (Sept. 1), we started up at the sound of the
departure-gun, struck the tent, loaded the camels, mounted, and found
ourselves hurrying through a gloomy pass, in the hills, to secure a
good place in the Caravan. This is an object of some importance, as,
during the whole journey, marching order must not be broken. We met
with a host of minor accidents, camels falling, Shugdufs bumping
against one another, and plentiful abuse. Pertinaciously we hurried on
till six A.M., at which hour we emerged from the Black Pass. The large
crimson sun rose upon us, disclosing, through purple mists, a hollow of
coarse yellow gravel, based upon a hard whitish clay. About five miles
broad by twelve long, it collects the waters of the high grounds after
rain, and distributes the surplus through an exit towards the
North-west, a gap in the low undulating hills around. Entering it, we
dismounted, prayed, broke our fast, and after half an hour’s halt
proceeded to cross its breadth. The appearance of the Caravan was most
striking, as it threaded its slow way over the smooth surface of the
Khabt (low plain).[FN#8] To judge by the eye, the host was composed of
at fewest seven thousand souls, on foot, on horseback, in litters, or
bestriding the splendid camels of Syria.[FN#9] There were eight
gradations of pilgrims.
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