Chapter XII · (continued 2)

“3rd March.—Got away at last from Siwah, accompanied by the Maown on his white donkey and our four chief adversaries on horseback, Othman Habbun (Wakil Sidi el Mahdi), Mohammed Mansur (Hassuna’s brother), Mohammed Kuli, and Abdallah Homeydeh. They were riding wretched underbred mares of which they professed themselves proud. But Othman cast envious eyes on Yemama, who was fresh with her rest and full of spirits.

“I have promised the Maown to try and get him named Mamur. He says that with twenty-five men and a small cannon he could manage the town—and I think he could if Othman were removed. He is the only dangerous one of the lot, as he is intelligent, unscrupulous, and bold. The Senussia in these oasis towns is a mere madness and ought to be suppressed. It is, all the same, picturesque and interesting. I have slept the last two nights on the housetop, and the midnight call to prayer is the most impressive thing I ever heard. The town guards call their watchword, which is answered all over the town. Then the drum is struck, in sound like the sharp crack of a rifle, 1—2, 3—1—2, 3—1—2, 3. Then, after an interval, the mueddhin chaunts. Till midnight the whole town is silent—dead silent—there are no dogs at Siwah except those brought in by the Bedouins. But afterwards there are intervals of watch calling and prayers till daybreak.

“The four Sheykhs got off their horses at the outskirts of the oasis gardens and were wishing us good-bye, when Mohammed Saïd appeared in the distance. ‘I think he is not of your friends,’ I said. ‘We are all friends here,’ they answered, laughing. ‘Fi aman Illah,’ said Othman. ‘Salaam aleykum,’ I answered, and he, ‘Aleykum es salaam.’ Mohammed Saïd then rode up. He talked of riding farther with us, but I would not allow it. He proved useless to us at the pinch, and he only compromises us now. The little Maown I parted from with real regret. He has been very kind and very clever. I am to deliver a letter he has written to the Mudirieh (Damanhur, of which Siwah is an annex), and to send him my pistol and a donkey’s bridle by one of our guides when these return. Mohammed Saïd handed me a list of those who had been concerned in the attack on me, and then he too departed. When all were gone and we were once more in the open desert we all breathed more freely, and have pushed quickly on and are stopping now at the last hattieh (palm clump) of the oasis, some twenty-five miles from Siwah.

“4th March.—A long march from 5.50 a.m. to 5.20 p.m. over hard hamad (gravel plain) at best pace—say thirty-five miles—and camped at the first sheltered place on descending towards Garah. A hot march, as the wind was behind us, followed by a bitter cold night.

“The two guides are Kheydr, an old man, tall and big-nosed, a Senusite—he was one of those who rode against us on the 28th at what I call the battle of Jupiter Ammon, for the ruins were within half a mile of the fight. The other, a great strong blackguard of the opposite faction. They are both amiable now, and made me a present of Siwah bread and date cake, very good, in a pretty basket. The old man I like. He said to-day, ‘I have been inquiring about you from your servants, and I find we made a great mistake about you. It will ruin Siwah.’

“5th March.—There are three factions at Siwah: 1. The Senussia, comprising 950 out of the 1000 male inhabitants. 2. The followers of one Abd es Salaam of Tuggurt, and 3. The followers of Mohammed Dhaffir el Médani of Constantinople. Of this last Mohammed Saïd is a member, and so is our guide Khalaf. Mohammed Dhaffir it was that made the mischief at Yildiz against Sidi el Mahdi, and caused the Sultan to cut his subsidy. It is therefore pretty plain that our arriving with letters to Mohammed Saïd was a first cause of suspicion. They seem to have jumped at once to the conclusion that I was a spy, from Mohammed Dhaffir or another, with plans against their chief.” [N.B. This Mohammed Dhaffir el Médani is doubtless the same Sheykh Zaffir who corresponded with Arabi on behalf of the Sultan in 1882. See my “Secret History.”]

“This morning we descended to Garah, a pretty little oasis, with a quaint village perched on a mushroom rock, inhabited by negroes. There are two springs and a well, the western spring called Ain Makhluf, the eastern Ain Faris. Makhluf has a deep hole in the middle of the spring like that at Wells. We found the inhabitants of Garah en fête, for to-day is the Id (festival) and their Sheykh, an old negro, came out to greet us and ask us to alight, but I would not stop, and we have come on to the far end of the oasis, and are camped under some wild palms. Some fifteen miles to-day. According to the barometer we are here 250 feet below the sea level. It was 400 above yesterday on the high plateau.

“In all this time of trial I have been reading Doughty—certainly the best prose written in the last two centuries. He is of excellent counsel for such straits as we have been in; and I think it was in great measure due to his influence that I took the passive line I did the day of the attack. Any other would have cost me my life.

“6th March.—Thirteen hours’ march without a halt, perhaps forty miles. Our course was north-east by east, to the khusm of Abdel Nebbi. Thence there are two roads which part company to join again at Lebbakh. We chose the northern way. We are camped at the first palms of a new oasis.

“7th March.—All day till three skirting a great sebkha with cliff to our left, and camped at a spring. Found a dead pratincole and saw two falcons. Barometer shows 165 below sea level. The name of our camp, Gatara. Water pretty good, an open spring with a run of water from under palms. Chats with white heads and tails, as at Siwah. A yellow wagtail with black head. Twenty-five miles.

“8th March.—Rounded the point of Gatara and on to El Haj, six hours. El Haj, an open spring in a sandy ravine, water salt. At 2.50 crossed a bay of the sebkha, and camped at a hattieh—perhaps twenty-eight miles. Saw a gazelle on the sebkha, and flushed a quail. We are camped 1½ miles east of the pyramidal peak of El Tartur. Good guttáf pasture for the camels.

“9th March.—Took water from an open pit under Abu Tartur. It might be easily passed unnoticed, being marked only by some burnt palms. A great bird of prey, brown, grey, and black (?), and some pippits. All day coasting the sebkha, with lines of hill still in front. Eleven hours’ march, thirty miles. We have now travelled, according to my calculation, 198 miles from Siwah in seven days.

“10th March.—To Lebbakh well, eleven hours, say thirty miles, good nossi and sgaa pasture. The well is about three-quarters of a mile south of the headland, the last of the range eastwards. It is marked by a low tel. I am tired, and Yemama is tired. The sebkha ends here.

“Later. I was premature about the well. After three hours’ absence Kheydr and Eid have returned, having failed to find it. So we are without water. I have given what remained in my girbeh to the general stock. Yemama had a jerdel, and there is now absolutely no drop in camp, except one quart bottle I keep always in reserve. Kheydr promises water to-morrow at noon at Maghara, ‘sweet as the Nile.’ We are now, I calculate, 160 miles from the Nile valley.

“11th March.—A long forced march of thirty miles. I did not ride Yemama, as she is suffering from thirst, and is looking thin and tucked up. They found the well this morning, but it was salt, and the mare would not drink. To-day we passed through herds of wandering camels. There is pasture, erta, nossi, adr. At half-past two crossed a party of Oulad Ali, who told us we were going wrong, and took us to Maghara water—most fortunate. Maghara is a small oasis three miles south-west of the first step of the hill.

“12th March.—The Bedouin who showed us the water, Abu Bekr, lives in the neighbourhood. Every ten days he visits Maghara, and fetches ten girbehs of water on donkeys for his household, a bright, good Bedouin, who was really unwilling to take the present I offered him. I said, ‘For the water.’ He answered, ‘It was not worth it.’ (If we had not chanced to meet him it would have fared ill with us.) From this point I took command, as Kheydr had no clear idea of the direction. Abu Bekr had told us, ‘go towards that star,’ pointing to one rising in the east. I made my course a point north of west, and made a nine hours’ march, perhaps twenty-three miles, letting the camels feed, and am camped in a good wady, with erta and eshub. Yemama eats the erta, and several kinds of eshub, besides the nossi. We have our six girbehs full, to last us till the Nile or the Wady Natron.

“13th March.—Another nine hours’ march due east. I insisted upon this, as they wanted, all of them but Suliman, to go south-east, which I knew must be wrong. So across country we went, taking careful bearings at every height to keep our line true. It was all open ground. Some camel herders we passed told us the Wady (Natron) was in front of us, thus confirming my judgment. At 2.45 we camped in a bit of pasture, whence we disturbed gazelles. These are now once more of the smaller Eastern kind. (They are larger in the west). Came on a vulture on a dead camel. Saw cranes passing northwards overhead. Three days more should see us now at home. Twenty-seven miles’ march.

“14th March.—Held doggedly on my course due east, passing much petrified wood. There is a general discontent at my persisting in my own direction over hill and dale, all good going on gravel. At noon we crossed a well-marked caravan road, bearing north-east, but I held on by compass, and presently we got glimpses of a yellow wady about three miles off I knew must be Natron, and at four found ourselves within two miles of the westernmost convent straight in front of us (a good bit of navigation). Here we are camped. Some thirty miles to-day.

“15th March.—This morning our party broke up, Beseys and Minshawi making a line for their home in the Fayoum, our two khabirs also leaving us to visit friends in the Rif, and we down the Natron Valley, passing four convents on our way to Sheykh Ahmed and Fum el Bahr. We camped in the plain between Natron and the Rif. Twenty-eight miles.

“16th March.—This morning we saw a strange sight. The moon was setting, and we saw three moons, and the sun was rising, and we saw two suns. At noon we reached the Nile Valley and rested awhile, feasting our eyes on the greenness and the water near Sheykh Ahmed. Then on, and camped at Fum el Bahr. Thirty miles.

“17th March.—Reached Sheykh Obeyd on St. Patrick’s day, at 11.15, a weary crew, having travelled 413 miles in fourteen and a half days, the fortieth day from our leaving it. El Hamdul Illah!

“24th March.—Sheykh Obeyd. I returned from my Siwah journey on the 17th at a quarter past eleven, meeting Anne accidentally on her way through the palm grove from the station. I could hardly speak for tears of joy. I had been away the forty days, during which she was to expect no news of me, and this was the forty-first, and during the whole of that time I had not spoken a word of any language but Arabic, till I had come even to think in Arabic, and I was weak and worn out, and famished in mind and body. Our last run from Siwah, 413 miles, had been accomplished in fourteen days and a half.

“Since then I have been resting, except that on the 20th I went into Cairo and lunched with Gorst, and at his suggestion drew up a memorandum in writing for him of the circumstances of my journey. There have been two political events during my absence, the war in Crete and Rodd’s mission to Abyssinia. I hardly know what to say yet on either case. Personally I have come back from my journey with my mind cleared on one point important to my life. It is as to religion. My experience of the Senussia at Siwah has convinced me that there is no hope anywhere to be found in Islam. I had made myself a romance about these reformers, but I see that it has no substantial basis, and I shall never go farther now than I am in the Mohammedan direction. The less religion in the world, perhaps, after all, the better.”