“But here, too, is another sign of life, wholly unlooked for, and for which it is hard to account. It is the half-naked, hungry form of a human being, a young Arab, who seems to have started up out of the yellow sand under his feet, for no town, village, house or shelter is seen from which he could have emerged. But here he is, running by the ship’s side up and down the sandy banks for miles and for hours with the speed of a horse and the endurance of a hound, plaintively shouting as he runs: ‘Backsheesh! Backsheesh! Backsheesh!’ and only stopping in the race to pick up the pieces of bread and meat thrown to him from the ship. Far away in the distance, through the quivering air and sunlight, a mirage appears. Now it is a splendid forest and now a refreshing lake. The illusion is perfect.”[32] The memory of this half-naked, lean young Arab with the mirage behind him made an indelible impression. After a week in Cairo, Douglass wrote, “Rome has its unwashed monks, Cairo its howling and dancing dervishes. Both seem equally deaf to the dictates of reason.” When they returned to Washington and to their home on Anacostia Heights they knew that they had savored the full meaning of abundant living. They had walked together in many lands and among many nationalities and races; they had been received together by peoples of all shades, who greeted them in many different languages; their hands had touched many hands. They had so much they could afford to be tolerant. Arrows of ignorance, jealousy or petty prejudice could not reach them. In June, 1889, Frederick Douglass was appointed Minister to Haiti. CHAPTER TWENTY _The Môle St. Nicolas_ Secretary of State Blaine was disturbed. All morning bells had been ringing and secretaries scurrying around like mad. With the arrival of the New York shipowner, even the clerks in the outer offices knew that something was “in the wind.” The “problem of the West Indies” was perhaps the most important unfinished business left over from the former Secretary of State. Blaine had seen himself succeeding where William Seward had failed. Circumstances were propitious and favorably disposed; the Môle St. Nicolas, most coveted prize in the Caribbean, was practically within his grasp--or had been.