It was terribly hot. I think it was
Aden where the sailors reappeared who had died and gone to a certain
fiery place; and on being asked why they came back, they replied that
they had caught cold, and had got leave to come home and fetch their
blankets!
We returned at half-past four in the afternoon to our ship and the
pilgrims. The weather that night became very rough, and during the night
a Bengali fell overboard. His companion, who witnessed the accident,
said nothing; and on being asked later where he was, replied casually,
"I saw him fall overboard about three hours ago." Such are the ways of
these peculiar pilgrims. They have no more sympathy for one another
than cattle. None would give a draught of water to the dying; and as
for praying over the corpses before throwing them overboard, if they
could help it they would scarcely take the trouble. It was too rough
all the next day for reading or writing; and to add to our discomfort
two Russian passengers got drunk, and fought at the table, and called
each other "liar and coward," "snob and thief," "spy and menial," and
other choice epithets. However, their bark was worse than their bite,
for they cooled down after they had succeeded in upsetting us all.
I staggered about on deck for the next few days as much as possible, and
again did what I could for pilgrims; but our Russian passengers aforesaid
brought me word later that when those who must in any case have expired,
died, the others said it was I who poisoned them; and that was all the
thanks I got for my pains.
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