Voyage By Dhow Read Online Free PDF

them with his arm, pointing out some elusive, half-obliterated landmark on the distant shore. Five times a day the nakhoda gave the call to prayer in his old, croaking voice. The first time he called ‘ Allah akbar ’, the words came falteringly and could hardly be heard up in the bows, but he cleared his throat and started again and, by the time he reached the ‘ Haya ala’l falah ’, his voice was strong. Besides the call to prayer, the nakhoda led the chanting at night, and sometimes when we were all resting he would tell a tale of the wit of some merry thief of old or the wisdom of a great king.
    The nakhoda lived aft on a little platform from which the dhow was steered. This was as sacred to him and his officers as is the bridge to the captain of a ship. Out of respect it was usual to offer him the first piece of unleavened bread and to give him the first cup when the kishr was poured out. He always accepted it gravely, saying ‘May God increase your blessing’, or ‘God be pleased with you’. When there was work to be done such as hoisting or changing sail, the nakhoda hauled on the rope with the rest, but he always maintained the dignity that became a man of his position. When something went wrong and damage was done, as was to happen later in the voyage, he did not raise his voice or wave his arms; instead he displayed the self-possession and restraint expected of an Arab gentlemen.
    Our steersman was from Kuwait in the Persian Gulf. He was a young man who had once been a trainer of falcons and he still looked like one. He had also been a fisherman and he claimed to know the names of all birds and fishes. He used to point to the seabirds flying overhead, naming those that were good to eat. These, he said, he could attract by a certain call before flying his falcon against them. He told us of strange animals that his falcons had killed, including a bird that was larger than a man. He boasted that he possessed abnormal strength of vision—he used to point over the sea to towns and villages that remained invisible to us. To his credit it must be said that when we were on the lookout for a landmark or an island he was always the first to see it; often a man had to be sent up the mast to confirm the sighting.
    Our sailors for the most part came from Bahrain, where they had originally been pearl fishers. They were not paid wages but received their food and a very small percentage on the sale of the cargo. One of them was keen to try his luck with the Italians in Abyssinia, and another had saved a little money and hoped to become a trader in Jeddah, where he had relatives. The experience they had gained as fishermen came in useful, for they trailed lines behind the dhow at certain times of the day, particularly towards the evening, to catch barracudas and rock cod.
    As for our fellow passengers, these were people drawn from a variety of walks of life. As well as a restaurant owner with his family, we carried a man who sold masks and magical cures, a pearl merchant, and a circus performer who was to demonstrate how to ride a unicycle. Not everyone, however, travelled with such peaceable motives. On the deck just behind us sat a tribesman of the Beni Zaranik who was on his way to fight for what was left of free Abyssinia. These people lived in the coastal region of the Yemen, south of Hodeidah. Until a few years before they had been indomitable sea pirates and slavers, who had fought off invaders so successfully that they had always managed to retain their independence. Thus they were to prove one of the greatest impediments to Imam Yahya’s campaign to rule the whole of the Yemen. Yahya’s method of keeping these tribesmen in order was to take the sons of chiefs hostage, and of these he eventually had several thousands. But even with his hostages the system failed to work. Finally, in December 1929 Ahmed Seif-el-Islam, the Imam’s son, had marched against them, and after a short but bloody war the Zaranik were