The sky was heavenly
blue, the water a deep band of the clearest green, the air balmy and
fresh. The golden sands stretched far away; an occasional troop of
Bedawin with their camels and goats passed, and reminded me of those
dear, dead days at Damascus. It all came back to me with a rush. Once
more I was in the East. I had not enjoyed myself so much with Nature
for four years and a half. With the smell of the desert air in our
nostrils, with Eastern pictures before our eyes, we were even grateful
for the slowness of the pace at which we travelled. They were the
pleasantest two days imaginable, like a river picnic. We reached Suez,
with its air of faded glory, at length; and there we shipped a pious
pilot, who said his prayers regularly, and carefully avoided touching
my dog. Of course he was from Mecca; but, unhappily for his reputation,
the first night spent at Jeddah gave him a broken nose, the result of
a scrimmage in some low coffee-house.
At last we neared Jeddah, the port of Mecca. The approach was
extraordinary. For twenty miles it is protected by Nature's breakwaters,
lines of low, flat reefs, barely covered, and not visible until you are
close upon them. There was no mark or lighthouse save two little white
posts, which might easily be mistaken for a couple of gulls. In and out
of these reefs the ship went like a serpent. There was barely passage
for it between them; but of course no pilot would attempt it save in
broad daylight.
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