has
wandered as far afield as Russia and Gibraltar. He is the pure African,
merry at one moment and sulky at another, affectionate and abusive,
reckless and crafty, quarrelsome and unscrupulous to the last degree.

Shaykh Hamid el Lamman, of El Medinah, is a perfect specimen of the
town Arab--his face a dirty brown, his beard untrimmed, his only
garment, an ochre-coloured blouse, exceedingly unclean. He can sing,
slaughter a sheep, deliver a grand call to prayer, shave, cook, fight,
and vituperate. Salih Shakkar is a Turk on his father's side, an Arab on
his mother's; he is as avaricious as an Arab, and as supercilious as a
Turk. All these people borrowed money from me. To their number must be
added Mohammed, a hot-headed Meccan youth, whom I had met in Cairo, and
who appointed himself my companion; and Shaykh Nur, my Indian servant.

Through the activity of Saad the Devil--not disinterested activity, for
he wanted to pay nothing himself and to make us pay too much--we were at
last able to book passages on the vessel Golden Thread. Amid infinite
clamour and excitement on a hot July morning we boarded her, only to be
threatened with loss of our places on the poop by a rush of Maghrabi
pilgrims, men from Western Africa, desperately poor and desperately
violent. Saad the Devil disposed of the intruders by the simple process
of throwing them into the hold. There the Maghrabis fell out with a few
Turks, and in a few minutes nothing was to be seen but a confused mass
of humanity, each item indiscriminately scratching, biting, punching,
and butting.

A deputation of us waited upon Ali Murad, the owner, to inform him of
the crowded state of the vessel. He told us to be good, and not fight;
to trust in Allah, and that Allah would make all things easy for us. His
departure was the signal for a second fray. This time the Maghrabis
swarmed towards the poop like angry hornets; Saad provided us with a
bundle of long ashen staves, and we laid on with might and main. At
length it occurred to me to roll an earthen jar full of water--weighing
about a hundred pounds--upon the assailants. After this they shrank back
and offered peace.

It was twelve days before we reached Yambu. The vessel had no compass,
no log, no sounding-line, nor even the suspicion of a chart. Each night
we anchored, usually in one of the many inlets of the Arabian coast, and
when possible we went ashore. The heat during the day was insufferable,
the wind like the