The Land of Midian, Vol. 1

R >> Richard Burton >> The Land of Midian, Vol. 1

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Here, as at Cairo, the piastre is of two kinds, metallic (debased
silver) and non-metallic. Government pays in the former, which is
called Ságh ("coin"); and the same is the term throughout Egypt.
The value fluctuates, but 97-1/2 may be assumed = one sovereign
(English), and one hundred to the Egyptian "lira." The second
kind, used for small purchases, is not quite half the value of
the former (205:100); in North-Western Arabia it is called Abyas
("white"), and Tarífá ("tariff"); the latter term in Cairo always
signifying the Ságh or metallic. The dodges of the Shroffs, or
"money-changers," make housekeeping throughout Egypt a study of
arithmetic. They cannot change the value of gold, but they "rush"
the silver as they please; and thus the "dollar-sinko" (i.e. the
five-franc piece), formerly fetching 19.10, has been reduced to
18.30. The Khurdah, or "copper-piastre," was once worth a
piastre; now this "coin of the realm" has been so debased, that
it has gradually declined through 195 to 500 and even 650 for the
sovereign. Moreover, not being a legal tender, it is almost
useless in the market.

As regards the money to be carried by such expeditions, anything
current in Egypt will do. The Bedawin prefer sovereigns when
offered five-franc pieces, and vice versa. The Egyptian sovereign
of 100 piastres (metallic) or 250 "current" must not be
confounded with the Turkish = 87.30 (curr. 175.20 to 180). The
napoleon averages 77.6 (curr. 160); the dollar varies according
to its kind; the shilling is 3.35 (curr. 10), and the franc 3.35
(curr. 8). It is necessary to lay in a large quantity of small
change by way of "bakhshísh," such as ten and twenty parah bits
(40 = 1 piastre).

Chapter VIII.
Cruise from El-'Akabah to El-Muwaylah--the Shipwreck
Escaped–Résumé of the Northern Journey.

I resolved upon hastening back with all speed to El-Muwaylah,
finishing, by the way, our work of quartz-prospecting on the
'Akabah Gulf. Thus far it had been a success; we heard of "Marú"
in all directions. But all had not gone equally well. We had
already on two occasions been prevented by circumstances from
visiting the mysterious Hismá, and we now determined to devote
all our energies to its exploration.

Two heavy showers having fallen during the dark hours, on
February 8th Aurora looked as if she had passed a very bad night
indeed. The mist-rack trailed along the rock slopes, and rested
upon the Wady-sands; the mountains veiled their heads in clouds,
and--

"Above them lightnings to and fro ran coursing evermore,
Till, like a red, bewildered map, the skies were
scribbled o'er."

Meanwhile, in the north-west and south-west we saw--rare thing in
Arabia!--Iris holding two perfect bows at the same time, not to
speak of "wind dogs." Zephyrus, the wester, here a noted bad
character, rose from his rocky couch strong and rough, beating
down the mercury to 56 degrees F.: after an hour he made way for
Eurus; and the latter was presently greeted by Boreas in one of
his most boisterous and blustering moods.

We steamed off, with only a single stoppage for half an hour to
cool the engine-bearings, at 7.30 a.m.; and, after one mile we
passed, on the Arabian side, a ruin called Kasr el-Bint--"the
Girl's Palace." Beyond it lies the Kasr el-Bedawi, alias
El-Burayj ("of the Little Tower or Bastion"), the traditional
holding-pier of the great chain. When Wellsted (ii. 146) says,
"Here (i.e. at the Kasr el-Bedawi), I am told, there is a chain
extending from the shore to a pier built in the sea"--he
evidently misunderstood the Arabs. The eastern coast of
El-'Akabah begins with an abrupt mountain-wall, like that which
subtends the whole of the Sinai shore, till it trends south of
the Mí'nat el-Dahab. After three miles the heights fall into a
stony, sandy plain, which rises regularly as a "rake," or
stage-slope, to the Shará' (Seir) range, which closes the
horizon. After two hours and forty five minutes we passed into
the fine, open, treacherous Bay of "Hagul" (El-Hakl), distant
thirteen knots from El-'Akabah Fort, to which it is the nearest
caravan-station. On the north-east, and stretching eastward, are
the high "horse," or dorsum, and the big buttresses of the long,
broad Wady, which comes winding from the south-east. They appear
to be a body of sand; but, as usual on this coast, the
superficial sheet, the skin, hardly covers the syenite and
porphyritic trap that form the charpente. Between west and south,
a long spit, high inland, and falling low till where its
sandstone blufflet meets the sea, proves to be the base of a
large and formidable reef, which extends in verdigris patches
over the blue waters of the bay. It is not mentioned by Wellsted
(ii. 149), who describes "Ha'gool on the Arabian shore," as "a
small boat-harbour much exposed to the northerly winds." The
embouchure of the Wady nourishes four distinct clumps of
date-trees, well walled round; a few charred and burnt, the most
of them green and luxuriant. These lines are broken by the
channels which drain the surface water; and between the two
western sections appear the ragged frond-huts. Not a soul was
seen on shore.

The wind blew great guns outside the bay, and the inside proved
anything but calm. As the water was fifty-eight fathoms deep near
the coast, our captain found no moorings for his ship, except to
the dangerous reef; and we kept drifting about in a way which
would have distracted sensitive nerves. I had been told of ruins
and tumuli at El-Hakl, which denote, according to most
authorities, the Mesogeian town (Ancale): Ptolemy
(vi. 7, 27) places this oppidum Mediterraneum between Mákna or
Maína (Madyan), and Madiáma (Magháir Shu'ayb), the old capital.

Unwilling, however, to risk the safety of the gunboat, where
nothing was to be expected beyond what we had seen at El-'Akabah,
I resolved, after waiting half an hour, not to land. The Sambúk
received a cargo of quarrymen and sacks, in order to ship at
Makná the "argentiferous galena" and other rocks left by
Lieutenant Yusuf and M. Philipin upon the shore; and, that done,
she was directed to rejoin us at Tírán Island. As long as the
norther coursed high, she beat us hollow; in the afternoon,
however, when the gale, as usual, abated, she fell off, perhaps
purposely, not wishing to pass a night in the open. By sunset her
white sail had clean disappeared, having slipped into some snug
cove.

The Arabian shore is here of simpler construction than that of
Sinai; consequently the chart has had a better chance. The
Mukhbir resumed her way southwards in glorious weather, a fresh
breath blowing from the north; and fleecy clouds variegating the
sky, which was almost as blue as the waves After six miles and a
half from El-Hakl and nearly twenty from El-Akabah, she ran to
the west of El-Humayzah Island, the "Omasír" of Wellsted (ii.
149), between which and the mainland is a well sheltered berth.
It is a great contrast with the "Hill of the Fort," the
Pharaohnic rock, this lump some eighty feet high, built of
Secondary gypsum and yellow serpentine like the coast behind it.
Gleaming deadly white, pale as a corpse in the gorgeous sunshine,
and utterly bare, except for a single shrub, it is based upon a
broad, dark-coloured barrier-reef. Local tradition here places
the Kasr el-Bedawíyyah, "Palace of the Bedawi Woman (or Girl),"
but we saw neither sign of building nor trace of population in
the second island which the Gulf el-'Akabah owns.

We then passed sundry uninteresting features, and night fell upon
us off Jebel Tayyib Ism, where familiar scenes began to present
themselves. The captain had already reduced speed from four and a
half to three knots, his object being to reach the Bugház or
"Gulf-mouth" after dawn. But as midnight drew near it became
necessary to ride out the furious gale with the gunboat's head
turned northwards. M. Lacaze, a stout-hearted little man, worked
half the night at the engine, assisting Mr. Duguid. About four
a.m. (February 8th) a lull in the storm allowed her to resume her
southerly course; but two hours afterwards, an attempt to make
the Makná shore, placing her broadside on to the wind, created
much confusion in the crockery and commotion among the men.
Always a lively craft, she now showed a Vokes-like agility; for,
as is ever the case, she had no ballast, and who would take the
trouble to ship a few tons of sand? At such moments the engine
was our sole stand-by: had it played one of its usual tricks, the
Mukhbir, humanly speaking, was lost; that is, she would have been
swamped and water-logged. As for setting sail, it was not till
our narrow escape that I could get the canvas out of stowage in
the hold.

As the morning wore on the Gulf became even rougher, with its
deep and hollow waves; they seemed to come from below, as if bent
upon hoisting us in the air. The surface-water shivered; and the
upper spray was swept off by the north wind, which waxed colder
and more biting as we steered sunwards. The Sinaitic side now
showed its long slopes; and at 9.45 a.m. we passed the palms of
the Nebíkí anchorage, some six miles from the "Gate." On the
shore of Midian, south of the dark Fahísát Mountains, four
several buttresses of gypsum, decreasing in size as they followed
one another eastwards, trended diagonally away from the sea. This
part of the Arabian coast ends in a thin point: the maps call it
"Ras Fartak;" and the pilots "Shaykh Hamí,"[EN#138] from a holy
man's tomb to which pious visitation is made. The other
land-tongue, adjoining to the south, is known as the Umm Ruús, or
"Mother of Heads." I cannot find out whence Ruppell borrowed his
"Omel Hassanie" (Umm el-Hassání?).

As we approached the ugly gape of the formidable Gulf, the waves
increased in size, and coursed to all directions, as if distorted
by the sunken reefs. The eastern jamb is formed by Tírán Island;
the western by the sandy Ras Nasráni, whose glaring tawny slope
is dotted with dark basaltic cones, detached and disposed like
great ninepins. Beyond this cape the Sinaitic coast, as far as
Ras Mohammed, the apex of the triangle, is fretted with little
indentations; hence its name, El-Shurúm--"the Creeks." Near one
of these baylets, Wellsted chanced upon "volcanic rocks which are
not found in any other part of the peninsula:" this sporadic
outbreak gives credibility to the little "Harrah" reported to be
found upon the bank of the Midianitish "Wady Sukk." A hideous,
horrid reef, dirty brown and muddy green, with white horses madly
charging the black diabolitos, whose ugly heads form chevaux de
frise, a stony tongue based upon Tírán Island, and apparently
connected from the eastern coast behind, extends its tip to
mid-channel. The clear way of the dreaded Bugház is easily found
in the daytime: at night it would be almost impossible; and when
Midian shall be "rehabilitated," this reef will require a Pharos.

Adieu, small spitfire of a Gulf! The change from the inside to
the outside of the Birkat el-Akabah was magical. We at once
glided into summer seas, a mosaic of turquoise and amethyst,
fanned by the softest of breezes, the thermometer showing on deck
63 deg F. Perhaps the natural joy at our lucky escape from
"making a hole in the water" caused the beauties of the weather
and the glories of the scenery to appear doubly charming. Our
captain might have saved fifteen miles by taking the short cut
north of Tírán Island, under whose shelter we required a day for
boiler-tinkering. His pilot, however, would not risk it, and we
were compelled, nothing loth and little knowing what we did, to
round for a second time the western and southern shores.

The "Hill of Birds," which some have identified with the
classical Island of Isis,[EN#139] shows a triune profile, what
the Brazilians call a Moela or "gizzard." Of its three peaks the
lowest is the eastern; and the central is the highest, reaching
seven hundred, not a thousand, feet. Viewed from within the Gulf,
it is a slope of sand which has been blown in sheets up the
backing hills. The ground plan, as seen from a balloon, would
represent a round head to the north, a thin neck, and a body
rudely triangular, the whole measuring a maximum of five miles in
length: the sandy northern circlet, connected by the narrowest of
isthmuses, sweeping eastward, forms the noted port. The material
is the normal Secondary formation, sulphates and carbonates of
lime supporting modern corallines and conglomerates of shell.
Horizontal lines of harder stone are disposed in huge steps or
roads that number three to six on the flank of the western peak:
the manganese-coloured strata which appeared at Magháir Shu'ayb,
and in the rent bowels of the Rughámat Makná, are conspicuous
from the south. The whole has been upheaved by syenite, which,
again, has been cut by dykes of plutonic stone, trap and
porphyry.

At two p.m. we anchored in a roadstead to the south-east of the
island, open to every wind except the norther. I had sent
Lieutenant Amir and sundry quarrymen ashore, to inspect what
looked like a vein of sulphur. They delayed two hours, instead of
a few minutes; the boiler was grumbling for rest, and, not
wishing to leave them adrift in an open boat, I imprudently
consented to await them in a roadstead where the coast was
dangerous, instead of proceeding, as had been intended, to the
fine land-locked port, nature-hollowed in the eastern side of the
island. The old captain pitifully represented to me that his crew
could not row; and this I found to be generally the case: ten
miles with the oar would be considered a terrible corvée by the
Egyptian man-o'-war's man.

After blowing off steam, we at once went a-fishing. The only
remarkable result was the discovery that this corner of the Red
Sea is a breeding-ground for sharks: we had not seen one in the
Gulf of El-'Akabah, where last April they swarmed. Here, however,
the school contained all sizes and every age, and they regarded
us curiously with their cat's eyes, large, dark, and
yellow-striped down the middle. A small specimen, that had just
cut its teeth, was handed over to the cook, despite his loudly
expressed disgust. The meat was somewhat mealy and shortfibred;
but we pronounced in committee the seadog to be thoroughly
eatable when corrected by pepper, garlic, and Worcester sauce.
The corallines near the shore were finely developed: each bunch,
like a tropical tree, formed a small zoological museum; and they
supplied a variety of animalculae, including a tiny shrimp. The
evening saw a well-defined halo encircling the moon at a
considerable distance; and Mr. Duguid quoted the Scotch saw--

"A far-awa' bruch's a near-awa' blast."

The blast was nearer than we expected; and, during the rest of
the journey, the "bruch" rarely if ever deceived us. Yet the
night was not much disturbed by the furious northerly gusts,
showing that the storm which we had escaped was raging in the
still-vexed 'Akabah.

Next morning we landed to the south-west of Tírán's easternmost
peak, with a view of prospecting and adding to our collections.
On the shore, about three hundred feet from the sea, is a bank of
dead shells which are not found on the northern or sandy end of
the island: near the water most of them are tenanted by paguri
("hermits"). We caught a number of crabs and small fish, and we
carried off a single rock-oyster: as yet we had not found out
that the Ustrída--the vulgar form of the Hellenic and classical
"Istiridiyá"--abounds in these seas. After thirty minutes' walk
up the southern plane of the prism, composed of gypseous and
coralline rocks, veins of white petrosilex resembling broken
columels, streaks of magnetic black sand, and scatters of grit
and harder stones, we reached the summit of the little ridge. It
afforded a fine bird's-eye view of the splendid middle port; of
the false harbour; of the real shoal to its south-east, and of
the basin which seems to form Sináfir Island.

We now bent to the south-west. Here the surface is much cut and
broken by sandy Wadys, dotted with a few straggling plants: to
our right was a Goz or inclined arenaceous bank, where the south
wind had sifted the sand from the gravel, disposing the former in
the hollows, and the latter on the crest of the ripples.
Presently we reached a strange formation which, seen from the
east, appears a huge vein, red and rusty, beginning close to the
sea, and crossing the body of the island from south to north,
while a black cone is so disposed that its southern front
simulates a crater. A narrow gorge opens upon a semicircular
hollow lined with ochraceous or ferruginous matter; in fact, part
of the filon, which sends off fibrils in all directions. The
confusion of formations was startling. The floor was here of
white petrosilex, there of grey granite, variegated with squares
and lozenges, drops and pineapples, red, green, neutral tinted,
and disposed by oxides of iron and copper in natural designs that
looked artificial. Scattered over the bed of the upper ravine
beyond the hollow, were carbonates of lime, ruddy brown and
chocolate-hued, here a pudding-stone, there porous like basalt:
the calcareous sulphates were both amorphous and crystalline, the
latter affected by contact with plutonic matter. The walls of the
gash showed a medley of clay breccias, disposed in every
imaginable way; and divided by horizontal veins of heat-altered
quartz. A few paces further led to the head of the ravine, where
a tumble of huge rocks, choking the bed, showed that the
rain-torrents must at times be violent.

Meanwhile, Mr. Clarke and Lieutenant Amir had walked to the large
central harbour, hoping there to hit upon sweet water and some
stray Hutaym fishermen, who would show us what we wanted. They
did not find even the vestige of a hut. The two exploring parties
saw only three birds in the "Isle of Birds," and not one of the
venomous snakes mentioned at "Tehran" by Wellsted (II. ix.), and
described as "measuring about thirty inches, of a slender form,
with black and white spots." We also utterly failed to discover
the sulphur which was once abundant and the naphtha which,
according to the same authority, was produced here in
considerable quantities, and was used "by the Arab mariners to
pay their boats."

The evening was exceptionally fine and calm; and we expected on
the morrow (February 11th) a quiet return to El-Muwaylah. Yet a
manner of presentiment induced me to summon the engineer and his
native assistants, and to promise the latter a liberal
"bakhshísh," if by hard work at the boiler all night, and by
rigging up the ship's pump instead of a donkey-engine, they could
steam off at dawn.

Unexpectedly, about four a.m., a violent sandy and misty wester
began to blow; and all fancied that we had set sail to the south.
Quite the contrary! The engine was still under repair. The
Mukhbir was being tossed and rolled by the inshore set, and the
sequel is quickest told by an extract from my "Penny":--

"Written in sight of Death. Wind roaring furiously for victims:
waves worse. No chain can stand these sledge-hammer shocks. Chain
parts,[EN#140] and best sheet-anchor with it. Bower and kedge
anchors thrown out and drag. Fast stranding broadside on: sharp
coralline reef to leeward, distant 150 yards. Sharks! Packed up
necessaries. Sambúk has bolted, and quite right too! Engine
starts some ten minutes before the bump. Engineer admirably cool;
never left his post for a moment, even to look at the sea. Giorgi
(cook) skinning a sheep: he has been wrecked four times, and
don't care. Deck-pump acting poorly. Off in very nick of time,
9.15 a.m. General joy, damped by broadside turned to huge
billows. Lashed down boxes of specimens on deck, and wore round
safely. Made for Sináfir, followed by waves threatening to poop
us. Howling wind tears mist to shreds. Second danger worse than
first. Run into green water: fangs of naked rock on both sides
within biscuit-throw; stumps show when the waves yawn. Nice
position for a band-box of old iron! With much difficulty slipped
into blue water. Rounded south end of spit, and turned north into
glorious Sináfir Bay. Safe anchorage in eight fathoms. Anchor
down at 10:15 a.m., after one hour of cold sweat. Distance seven
miles on chart, nine by course: Mukhbir never went so fast; blown
like chaff before wind. Faces cleared up. All-round shaking of
hands; ‘El-Hamdu li'lláhi,' followed by a drink. Some wept for
joy."

The engine, or rather the engineer, had saved us: as the saying
is, it was touch and go--the nearest thing I ever did see. Had
the rotten old boiler struck work for five minutes when we were
clearing out of Tírán, or steaming along Sináfir shore, nothing
could have kept the ship afloat. Those who behaved best, a
fireman, a boy who crept into the combustion-chamber to clear it,
and helmsman who, having been at Liverpool, spoke a little
English, were duly "bakhshísh'd." The same reward was given by
mistake to the boilermaker, Mohammed Sa'íd Haddád, who had
malingered, instead of working, through the night. At Suez he had
the impudence to ask me for a Shahádah ("testimony") to his good
character. On the whole the conduct of the crew was worthy of all
praise.

In a decently equipped English steamer we should have laughed at
this storm, and whistled for more wind; but the condition of the
Mukhbir quite changed the case. The masts might have rolled out,
or she might have sprung a leak at any moment. And supposing that
we had escaped the crash upon the reef, the huge waves, and the
schools of sharks, our situation would have been anything but
pleasant. The Island of Tírán, as has been shown, is a grisly
scrap of desert: it has no sweet water; and its three birds would
not long have satisfied thirty hungry men. It is far from the
mainland; the storm, which lasted through two days, was too
violent for raft or boat to live, and at so early a season native
craft are never seen on these seas. Briefly, a week might have
elapsed before our friends at El-Muwaylah, who were startled by
the wildness of the wind, could have learned our plight, or could
have taken measures to relieve the castaways.

Sináfir Island, which we have to thank for giving us hospitality
on two occasions, consists mainly of a bay. Viewed by the norma
verticalis, it is shaped like an ugly duckling, with an oval
(Wellsted says a circular) body of high ground disposed
north-east to south-west; and with head and neck drooping
westward so as to form a mighty pier or breakwater. The watery
plain within is out of all proportion to the amount of terra
firma. The body-profile shows straight-backed heaps of gypsum,
some two hundred feet high, which become quoin-shaped about the
middle of the isle: these hillocks are connected by low strips of
sand growing the usual vegetation, especially the pink Statice
pruinosa.

Presently our Sambúk, which had also lost chain and anchor before
she could run out of the storm, appeared to the north-west of the
bay; and a pilgrim-craft, bound for Suez, was our companion in
good fortune. A party landed to examine Sináfir, which still
shows signs of a junction with Tírán. In days when the Secondary
formation was an unbroken street, the whole segment of a circle,
extending from Sharm Yáhárr to northern Sinai, must have been dry
land; these reefs and islands are now the only remnants. The
islet itself seems lately to have been two: the neck and head are
one, and the body is another; an evident sea-cliff marks the
junction, and what appears like a Wady below it, is the upraised
sea-bed of coralline. To the north-west, and outside this strip,
lies the little port defended by a network of reefs, in which our
Sambúk had first taken refuge. The bay-shore bears traces of more
than one wreck; and in the graveyard used by the native sailor,
an open awning of flotsam and jetsam looks from afar like a
tumble-down log-hut. The number of reefs and shoals shown by
stripes of vivid green water promised excellent fishing, and
failed to keep its promise.

At length, after a third wasted day, we managed, despite a new
hole in the old boiler, to steam out of hospitable Sináfir at
6:30 a.m. on the auspicious Wednesday, February 13. The
appearance of the Mukhbir must have been originale enough: her
canvas had been fished out of the hold, but in the place of a
mainsail she had hoisted a topsail. We passed as close as
possible to the islet-line of Secondary formation, beginning with
Shu'shu', the wedge bluff-faced to south: the Palinurus anchored
here in a small bight on the north-east side, between two reefs,
and narrowly escaped being wrecked by a northerly gale. At 10:45
a.m. we were alongside of Baráhkán, a double feature, lumpy and
cliffy, connected by a low sandy isthmus: the eastern flank gives
good shelter to native crafts. Lastly came Yubá', the compound
quoin, the loftiest of the group, upwards of 350 feet high, with
its low-lying neighbour Wálih. These islets have classical names,
as I have before mentioned,[EN#141] and appear once to have been
inhabited: even at Yubú', the least likely of all, we heard from
several authorities of a deep rock-cut well, covered with a stone
which the Arabs could not raise.

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