DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.4393#0050
32 A THOUSAND MILES UP TUE NILE.
CHAPTER III.
CAIRO TO BEDKESHAYN.
A rapid raid into some of the nearest shops for things
remembered at the last moment—a breathless gathering up
of innumerable parcels—a few hurried farewells on the
steps of the hotel—and away we rattle as fast as a pair of
raw-boned grays can carry us. For this morning every
moment is of value. We are already late ; we expect
visitors to luncheon on board at midday; and we are to
weigh anchor at two P. M. Hence our anxiety to reach
Boulak before the bridge is opened, that we may drive
across to the western bank, against whicb our dahabccyah
lies moored. Hence, also, our mortification when we arrive
just in time to see the bridge swing apart and the first
tall mast glide through.
Presently, however, when those on the look-out have
observed our signals of distress, a smart-looking sandal, or
jolly-boat, decked with gay rugs and cushions, manned by
five smiling Arabs, and flying a bright little new union
jack, comes swiftly threading its way in and out among
the lumbering barges now crowding through the bridge.
In a few more minutes we are afloat. For this is our
sandal and these are five of our crew; and of the three
dahabeeyahs moored over yonder in the shade of the palms
the biggest by far, and the trimmest, is our dear, memo-
rable Philaa.
Close behind the Philre lies the Bagstones, a neat
little dahabeeyah in the occupation of two English ladies
who chanced to cross with us in the Simla from Brin-
disi, and of whom we have seen so much ever since that
we regard them by this time as quite old friends in a
strange land. I will call them the M. B.'s. The other
boat, lying off a few yards ahead, carries the tri-color, and
is chartered by a party of French gentlemen. All three
are to sail to-day.
CHAPTER III.
CAIRO TO BEDKESHAYN.
A rapid raid into some of the nearest shops for things
remembered at the last moment—a breathless gathering up
of innumerable parcels—a few hurried farewells on the
steps of the hotel—and away we rattle as fast as a pair of
raw-boned grays can carry us. For this morning every
moment is of value. We are already late ; we expect
visitors to luncheon on board at midday; and we are to
weigh anchor at two P. M. Hence our anxiety to reach
Boulak before the bridge is opened, that we may drive
across to the western bank, against whicb our dahabccyah
lies moored. Hence, also, our mortification when we arrive
just in time to see the bridge swing apart and the first
tall mast glide through.
Presently, however, when those on the look-out have
observed our signals of distress, a smart-looking sandal, or
jolly-boat, decked with gay rugs and cushions, manned by
five smiling Arabs, and flying a bright little new union
jack, comes swiftly threading its way in and out among
the lumbering barges now crowding through the bridge.
In a few more minutes we are afloat. For this is our
sandal and these are five of our crew; and of the three
dahabeeyahs moored over yonder in the shade of the palms
the biggest by far, and the trimmest, is our dear, memo-
rable Philaa.
Close behind the Philre lies the Bagstones, a neat
little dahabeeyah in the occupation of two English ladies
who chanced to cross with us in the Simla from Brin-
disi, and of whom we have seen so much ever since that
we regard them by this time as quite old friends in a
strange land. I will call them the M. B.'s. The other
boat, lying off a few yards ahead, carries the tri-color, and
is chartered by a party of French gentlemen. All three
are to sail to-day.