ill he
stumbled about, hunting out of a cupboard a small basket of eggs, and in
the next room a great stirring and beating-up followed.

By-and-by the Moor who had been assisting him appeared with an omelette;
it was dark brown, mixed thick with aniseed, chopped ham, and parsley;
nor was it easy to dispose of it.

Our kind host ended up by pressing gin on us.

Warmed and fed, but unfortunately unable to sustain a conversation with
him either in Arabic or Spanish, and having exhausted the few words at
our command, the next best thing was to make ourselves comfortable for
the night. Lighting a candle, the old Jew paddled across the wet roof,
and we followed him, dimly distinguishing beasts feeding in the stalls
down below, to a small room on the far side, where some sort of
preparation had been made for us: a rug was spread on the stone floor,
and a bedstead had a blanket laid upon it, while our baggage was piled in
a corner. Putting on overcoats and rugs, we sat down on one of our
trunks--it is unwise to place confidence in unknown beds in Morocco; but
when, driven by sheer weariness, we lay down as we were on the blanket,
we slept unmolested.

A Jew on the other side of a thin partition which did not reach the
ceiling, snored heavily and awoke us at intervals. About six next
morning, what sounded very like the steamer's whistle blew repeatedly,
but we paid little attention to it, the old Jew and Mr. Bewicke having
both assured us the boat would leave about twelve o'clock. Morning had
dawned when we burst open the wooden shutters of a little window much
swelled with damp, and looked out across the sand-dunes at the sea.

There lay the black hull of the steamer at anchor: the wind of the night
before had dropped; a flaring sunrise and stormy sky lowered behind the
Riff Mountains, which were black.

Dressing was short work. The Moor handed us in at the door a tin basin
of water, and in a short time we were ready for the next move. At that
point R. craned up to look out of the high window. When she spoke, I
could hardly believe her words. . . . _The steamer had weighed anchor and
was moving._

There was no mistaking it: the black hull had swung round, and was making
for the open sea, with a flag of smoke trailing behind her; and away she
went to Gibraltar.

We rushed out upon the flat roof and up a rotten ladder minus three
rungs--all unheeding--which gave access to the roof above our room,
gaining nothing thereby