Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al-Madinah & Meccah — Volume 1Burton, Richard Francis, Sir
ReligionIslamic
Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al-Madinah & Meccah — Volume 1
Burton, Richard Francis, Sir
Arabian Peninsula -- Description and travel
The ships of the Red Sea-infamous region of rocks, reefs, and
shoals-cruise along the coast by day, and at night lay-to in the first
cove they find; they do not sail when it blows hard, and as in winter
time the weather is often stormy and the light of day does not last
long, the voyage is intolerably slow.[FN#8] At sunset we stayed our
adventurous course; and, still within sight of Suez, comfortably
anchored under the lee of Jabal Atakah, the "Mountain of
Deliverance,[FN#9]" the butt-end of Jabal Joshi. We were now on classic
waters. The Eastern shore was dotted with the little grove of
palm-trees which clusters around the Uyun Musa, or Moses' Wells; and on
the west, between two towering ridges, lay the mouth of the valley
(Badiyah, or Wady Tawarik, or Wady Musa) down which, according to
Father Sicard,[FN#10] the Israelites fled to
[p.196] the Sea of Sedge.[FN#11] The view was by no means deficient in
a sort of barbarous splendour. Verdure there was none, but under the
violet and orange tints of the sky the chalky rocks became heaps of
topazes, and the brown-burnt ridges masses of amethyst. The rising
mists, here silvery white, there deeply rosy, and the bright blue of
the waves,[FN#12] lining long strips of golden sand, compensated for
the want of softness by a semblance of savage gorgeousness.
Next morning (7th July), before the cerulean hue had vanished from the
hills, we set sail. It was not long before we came to a proper sense of
our position. The box containing my store of provisions, and, worse
still, my opium, was at the bottom of the hold, perfectly
unapproachable; we had, therefore, the pleasure of breaking our fast on
"Mare's skin,"[FN#13] and a species of biscuit, hard as a stone and
quite as tasteless. During the day, whilst insufferable splendour
reigned above, the dashing of the waters below kept my nest in a state
of perpetual drench. At night rose a cold, bright moon, with dews
falling so thick and clammy that the skin felt as though it would never
be dry again. It is, also, by no means pleasant
[p.197] to sleep upon a broken cot about four feet long by two broad,
with the certainty that a false movement would throw you overboard, and
a conviction that if you do fall from a Sambuk under sail, no mortal
power can save you. And as under all circumstances in the East, dozing
is one's chief occupation, the reader will understand that the want of
it left me in utter, utter idleness.
The gale was light that day, and the sunbeams were fire; our crew
preferred crouching in the shade of the sail to taking advantage of
what wind there was. In spite of our impatience we made but little way:
near evening time we anchored on a tongue of sand, about two miles
distant from the well-known and picturesque heights called by the Arabs
Hammam Faraun,[FN#14] which-
"like giants stand
To sentinel enchanted land."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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