“The antelopes I observed in parties of about a dozen each, and the camel-drivers informed me that they creep under the shrubs about eighteen inches high, to catch the drops of dew, which is the only means they have of relieving their thirst. I saw partridges in covies of from six to seven, but nowhere on the wing: they were running about the Desert, and I was informed they were not eaten even by the Arabs.” Considering the food they pick up in the Desert, perhaps this is no wonder. Having informed us that camels are to be had very cheaply at Suez—say a dollar each camel for fifty miles’ distance—and that the water is very brackish, he suddenly adds, with characteristic brevity, “To save recapitulation in _describing_ Cossier, it is the same as Suez, _viz._, camels are to be had in abundance at a trifling expense, and the water is as bad.” He remained at Suez two days, waiting with feverish anxiety the expected arrival of the Enterprise. She still did not appear—a strong N.W. wind blowing directly down the sea. Being quite unable to endure the suspense any longer, he determined to embark on the Red Sea in an open boat, intending to sail down its centre, in hopes of meeting her between Suez and Cossier. All the seamen of the locality vigorously remonstrated with Mr. Waghorn against this attempt, and he well knew that the nautical authorities, both of the East India House and the British Government, were of opinion that the Red Sea was not navigable. But he had important Government despatches to deliver—had pledged himself to deliver them on board the Enterprise, and considering that his course of duty, as well as his reputation as a traveller, were at stake, he persisted in his determination. Accordingly, he embarked in an open boat, and without having any personal knowledge of the navigation of this sea, without chart, without compass, or even the encouragement of a single precedent for such an enterprise—his only guide the sun by day, and the North star by night—he sailed down the centre of the Red Sea.