Ladha Damha, who had provided us with these necessaries, also hired for the coasting cruise an old Arab Beden, or ‘Awaysiyeh’ (foyst) called the Riámi. She was a fine specimen of her class; old and rotten, the boards and timbers of the deck were breaking up; the tanks were represented by a few Girbahs, or empty skins; the sails were in rags; the ropes and cables broke every half-hour, and the awning leaked like a cheap waterproof, despite bits of cotton rudely caulked in. Ants effected lodgment in our instrument cases, cockroaches dropped upon us all day, and the rats made marriage, as Saíd said, during the live-long night. The crew was picked up out of the bazar: one was a tailor, a second stuttered unintelligibly, a third was maimed and purblind, a fourth was sick, and a fifth, the Chelebi (fop) of the party, was a malingerer, who could do nothing but shave, pluck his eyebrows, and contemplate a flat face in the glass. The only man on board was old Ráshid, a scion of that Súrí race, the self-styled descendants of the Syrians, well-known for beggary and niggardness, for kidnapping and safe piracy. They are the most uncourteous of the Arabs; and while ever demanding Hishmah (respect) for themselves, they forget their own proverb, ‘Politeness has two heads,’ and they will on no occasion accord it to others. Ráshid, however, proved a hero and a treasure, by the side of our Nakhoda Hamid, a Saudawi or melancholist of the most approved type—never was brain of goose or heart of hen-partridge hidden by brow so broad and intellectual; never did liver of milk wear so Herculean a beard! He squats upon the deck screaming and abusing his men; now silent and surly, then answering every question with El ’ilm ’ind Allah (God knows!), and in danger he weeps bitterly. With such fellows the only system is to be as distant as possible: the least familiarity ends badly; they will hate you more for one cross word than love you for a thousand favours. The civility of a pipe or a glass of sherbet infallibly spoils them: they respect only the man who tells them once a day that they are unworthy to eat with a Walad Amir (gentleman). They will call you proud; but that matters little, and if you pay them well they will speak of you accordingly.