Voyage By Dhow Read Online Free PDF Page A

with heat we climbed to the side and looked around us. We were adrift in an expanse of steaming silk. Just over the stern, unexpectedly, the rocks of Aden were still imminent and huge after the night of travel. The harbour from which we had sailed the day before was only two or three miles away, but the short distance that separated us from the city’s ash-heaps had wrought a change. The rocks had lost their sharp outlines and become pale and spectral, as if on the point of floating away.
    As the sun rose higher, a canvas awning was unrolled and stretched over part of the ship to afford shade to the passengers. This was a doubtful blessing, because the awning held in the intolerable odour of staleness and decay which the sun seemed to scorch away wherever it was allowed to penetrate. We felt greatly tempted to cool ourselves by swimming in the sea around the ship, but on attempting to climb over the side, we were held back by the Arabs, who showed their alarm and pointed meaningfully at the water. We saw no sign of sharks, but the general nervousness impressed us and we abandoned the project.
    For half the day we stayed motionless. Then a faint breeze began to blow from the shore, and to make the most of it the nakhoda had the sail changed for a larger one, and at last we moved again.
    The Arabs began to prepare the main meal of the day. The cook was of slave origin and almost pure African in type. He was heavier, more thickset and more muscular than the average Arab, and his voice was deeper and more melodious. His face was pock-marked and twisted into an almost permanent grin. He prided himself on his professional artistry, and spent a great deal of time pounding and blending the ingredients for each meal. He filled in the intervals between his work by dancing and, as far as was possible, he used to dance even while the cooking went on. Up in the bows he kept an open fire on which he baked unleavened bread. The fire used to menace our lives by throwing out sparks which the breeze took and spread among the cargo. We were thankful that this was not especially flammable. Until recently, kerosene and petrol had often been carried by our dhow. This practice had been discontinued when four petrol-laden dhows in succession set sail from Aden for Madagascar and never reached their destinations.
VII
    A feeling of unity and fellowship quickly sprang up. Chance had brought together on this ship some thirty men of different tribes and social classes, coming from places in Arabia as far apart as Athens is from London. Their bond was the common compulsion that had sent them out from their own people to travel to a far country. They were all intensely religious, and it was clear that practically all their actions were carried out in accordance with the precepts of the Koran. We found ourselves part of a community in which the issues of life were suddenly simplified and the essential virtues became of importance once again.
    The moral atmosphere was perhaps similar to that of a medieval pilgrimage. Divisions between passengers and crew ceased to exist. On the rare occasions when there was work to be done everyone joined in, and at mealtimes all hands were dipped into the common dish. Arabs press food on those who eat with them. Ashore, sometimes, when we ate at table our host would become impatient of our mincing manners and, snatching our plates away, heap them with mutton and rice, strewing the food all over the table in his prodigality. The same spirit was present here, but we found kishr —a drink made from coffee husks—and unleavened bread like lead on the stomach.
    Supreme command of all those gathered together on this ship was vested in the person of the nakhoda , who was tall, lean and grave. His beard was dyed red, but his eyebrows and eyelashes were long and white. His hands were so thin and long that they looked like the hands of a skeleton. His eyes were clouded and tired-looking, but he frequently screwed them up and shaded