DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.4393#0170
152 A- THOUSAND MILES UP TEE NILE.
brick wall running at right angles to the river; and an
isolated mass of hollowed limestone rock left standing ap-
parently in the midst of an exhausted quarry, were all we
saw of El Kab as the dahabeeyah glided by.
And now, as the languid afternoon wears on, the propy-
lons of Edfu loom out of the misty distance. We have
been looking for them long enough before they come into
sight—calculating every mile of the way; every minute of
the daylight. The breeze, such as it was, has dropped
now. The river stretches away before us, smooth and oily
as a pond. Nine of the men are tracking. Will they pull
us to Edfu in time to see the temple before nightfall ?
Kei's Hassan looks doubtful; but takes refuge as usual
in "Inshallah !" ("God willing"). Talhamy talks of land-
ing a sailor to run forward and order donkeys. Mean-
while the Philre creeps lazily on; the sun declines unseen
behind a filmy veil; and those two shadowy towers, rising
higher and ever higher on the horizon, look gray, and
ghostly, and far distant still.
Suddenly the trackers stop, look back, shout to those on
board, and begin drawing the boat to shore. Rei's Hassan
points joyously to a white streak breaking across the
smooth surface of the river about half a mile behind. The
Eost&t's sailors are already swarming aloft—the Eagstones'
trackers are making for home—our own men are prepar-
ing to fling in the rope and jump on board as the Phila?
nears the bank.
For the capricious wind, that always springs up when we
don't want it, is coming!
And now the Eostat, being hindmost, flings out her big
sail and catches the first puff; the Eagstones' turn comes
next; the Phila? shakes her wings free and shoots ahead;
and in fewer minutes than it takes to tell, we are all three
scudding along before a glorious breeze.
The great towers that showed so far away half an hour
ago are now close at hand. There are palm-woods about
their feet, and clustered huts, from the midst of which
they tower up against the murky sky magnificently. Soon
they are passed and left behind, and the gray twilight
takes them and we see them no more. Then night comes
on, cold and starless; yet not too dark for going as fast as
wind and canvas will carry us.
And now, with that irrepressible instinct of rivalry that
brick wall running at right angles to the river; and an
isolated mass of hollowed limestone rock left standing ap-
parently in the midst of an exhausted quarry, were all we
saw of El Kab as the dahabeeyah glided by.
And now, as the languid afternoon wears on, the propy-
lons of Edfu loom out of the misty distance. We have
been looking for them long enough before they come into
sight—calculating every mile of the way; every minute of
the daylight. The breeze, such as it was, has dropped
now. The river stretches away before us, smooth and oily
as a pond. Nine of the men are tracking. Will they pull
us to Edfu in time to see the temple before nightfall ?
Kei's Hassan looks doubtful; but takes refuge as usual
in "Inshallah !" ("God willing"). Talhamy talks of land-
ing a sailor to run forward and order donkeys. Mean-
while the Philre creeps lazily on; the sun declines unseen
behind a filmy veil; and those two shadowy towers, rising
higher and ever higher on the horizon, look gray, and
ghostly, and far distant still.
Suddenly the trackers stop, look back, shout to those on
board, and begin drawing the boat to shore. Rei's Hassan
points joyously to a white streak breaking across the
smooth surface of the river about half a mile behind. The
Eost&t's sailors are already swarming aloft—the Eagstones'
trackers are making for home—our own men are prepar-
ing to fling in the rope and jump on board as the Phila?
nears the bank.
For the capricious wind, that always springs up when we
don't want it, is coming!
And now the Eostat, being hindmost, flings out her big
sail and catches the first puff; the Eagstones' turn comes
next; the Phila? shakes her wings free and shoots ahead;
and in fewer minutes than it takes to tell, we are all three
scudding along before a glorious breeze.
The great towers that showed so far away half an hour
ago are now close at hand. There are palm-woods about
their feet, and clustered huts, from the midst of which
they tower up against the murky sky magnificently. Soon
they are passed and left behind, and the gray twilight
takes them and we see them no more. Then night comes
on, cold and starless; yet not too dark for going as fast as
wind and canvas will carry us.
And now, with that irrepressible instinct of rivalry that