The clamour of the
streets of the town came across the water to his ears. He pictured to
himself the flare of braziers upon the quays, the lighted port-holes,
and dark funnels ahead and behind in the procession of the anchored
ships. Attended by a servant, he had come back to the East again. Early
the next morning the steamer moved through the canal, and towards the
time of sunset passed out into the chills of the Gulf of Suez. Kassassin,
Tel-el-Kebir, Tamai, Tamanieb, the attack upon McNeil's
zareeba--Durrance lived again through the good years of his activity,
the years of plenty. Within that country on the west the long
preparations were going steadily forward which would one day roll up the
Dervish Empire and crush it into dust. Upon the glacis of the ruined
fort of Sinkat, Durrance had promised himself to take a hand in that
great work, but the desert which he loved had smitten and cast him out.
But at all events the boat steamed southwards into the Red Sea. Three
nights more, and though he would not see it, the Southern Cross would
lift slantwise into the sky.
* * * * *
By A. E. W. Mason
THE COURTSHIP OF MAURICE BUCKLER
_A ROMANCE_
Being a record of the growth of an English Gentleman, during the years
of 1685-1687, under strange and difficult circumstances, written some
while afterward in his own hand, and now edited by A.
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