“Lor’ bless you, sir,” he began—“ the power of the boat hasn’t much to do with it! When Manned Ali started his boat on the Nile, Abbas Pacha started one as well, and tried to beat him; and did it too, though his’n wasn’t nigh such a good boat. When Manned Ali’s boat was on a-head, Abbas Pacha used to come down and say, £ Mr. Horton,’ he used to say, £ wo must lick my uncle’s boat;’ (leastwise he didn’t say lick, but he meant it in his tongue, as I might say), and then he used to go on and say, ‘Mr. Horton,’ he’d say, £ we’ll have a bottle of champagne together,’ says he. Now, they say the Mustaphas don’t drink, but, Lor’ bless us, I’ve had Abbas so overcome, as the saying is, down in the cabin, that we’ve often shut the doors to keep it a secret. Well, he’d send down the champagne, and then Abbas’s boat would creep up to Manned’s, and then he’d send down another bottle, and then we’d get alongside; and then another, and we’d go right a-head. I don’t mean to say that we used to put the champagne in the boiler; but, you may depend upon it, it did more than the coals, and so it will, any day.”
I found my friend was a very great man on board his boat. He had a smart cabin of his own below, close to the engine room, where the thermometer was always at 90°; and from the heat, the glare, and the noise, looked next door to the infernal regions. Here he reigned supreme. I asked him how he agreed with the officers. “ Oh,” he replied, “ very well; it’s best for them to keep in with me. Once we had a row in this boat, but I got the best of it. I’m allowed a cheese a week for my own store; and once we had a new captain between Beyroot and Alexander—a cocky chap, who was going to set everybody to rights in a hurry—and he never sent me my cheese. Well, what did I do? I wasn’t going to make a noise about it, but I stopped the engines, and let the boat toss about for half an hour, until he came to his senses. I pretty soon got my cheese ; and they never made a mistake about it afterwards.”
The weather cleared up the next day, but the Turks never came out again from their nestling place, nor were the women unpacked. The priest still kept to his book, and to all remarks about our probable detention, replied, “Metis, cest impossible” “ Out” returned M. Abro, who, being a Levantine, knew all about it, tl e’est impossible; mais cependant, cest rrai.” But the priest was still strong in the belief of going on shore, and looked out his three-cornered hat, and clean bands accordingly.
Beyrout quarantine
We arrived off Alexandria on the morning of the 1st of October, and were, as may be expected, all most anxious to know our fate. A surly-looking old gentleman, in a European dress, came alongside, and inspected our papers, which the captain held up to he looked at, the other keeping at a proper distance. These did not seem satisfactory, so he received them in a tin box, and went hack to the health office. In a short time he returned, and told us that we could not have pratique, but must prepare for the Beyrout quarantine. In vain the passengers expostulated in a Babel of unknown tongues ; he only shrugged his shoulders, and said he would go to the board once more; at the same time he ordered the abominable yellow flag to go up again. As he departed the thin priest smiled grimly, and said that it all meant nothing —that he was sure we should laud that afternoon guided istanbul tours.
All that day we lay in the harbour, under a broiling Egyptian sun, with nothing to do but grumble, hope, despair, and watch the countless many-sailed windmills along the low coast, which almost twirled me into a frenzy. At night, we were told to get ready early the next day, for that the barge would come to convey us to the Lazaretto. We had been condemned by the board to the entire Beyrout quarantine ! The thin priest would not believe it. lie said to-morrow morning we should land, and returned to the intent perusal of his grubby book.
At daybreak, on the following morning, a wretchedly old and dirty lighter came alongside, into which we were all shot like so much pestilential rubbish; and two or three boats’ crews of Arabs taking us in tow, with a melancholy monotonous chant suited to the occasion, we made a dismal journey of two hours, to the distant lazaretto. All my Egyptian enthusiasm vanished as we came near its gaunt prison walls.
Travelling 