Three p.m. had struck before we found ourselves in broken water off the fort of El-Muwaylah, where our captain cast a single anchor, and where we had our first escape from drifting upon the razor-like edges of the coralline reefs. In fact, everything looked so menacing, with surging sea around and sable storm-clouds to westward, that I resolved upon revisiting our old haunt, the safe and dock-like Sharm Yáhárr. Here we entered without accident; and were presently greeted by the Sayyid 'Abd el-Rahím, our former Káfilah-báshi, who had ridden from El-Muwaylah to receive us. The news was good: a truce of one month had been concluded between the Huwaytát and the Ma'ázah, probably for the better plundering of the pilgrims. This year the latter were many: the "Wakfah," or standing upon Mount Ararat, fell upon a Friday; consequently it was a Hajj el-Akbar, or "Greater Pilgrimage," very crowded and very dangerous, in more ways than one. I had given a free passage to one Sulaymán Aftáhi, who declared himself to be of the Beni 'Ukbah, when he was a Huwayti of the Jeráfín clan. After securing a free passage and provision gratis, when the ship anchored, he at once took French leave. On return I committed him to the tender mercies of the Governor, Sa'íd Bey. The soldiers, the quarry-men, and the mules were landed, and the happy end of the first stage brought with it a feeling of intense relief, like that of returning to Alexandria. Hitherto everything had gone wrong: the delays and difficulties at Cairo; at Suez, the death of poor Marius Isnard and the furious storm; the break-down of the engine; the fire in the wasteroom; and, lastly, the rough and threatening gale between the harbour and El-Muwaylah. What did the Wise King mean by "better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof"? I only hope that it may be applicable to the present case. In the presence of our working ground all evils were incontinently forgotten; and, after the unusual dankness of the Egyptian capital, and the blustering winds of the Gulf and the sea, the soft and delicate air of the Midian shore acted like a cordial. For the first time after leaving Alexandria, I felt justified in taper de l'oeil with the clearest of consciences.