Universitätsbibliothek HeidelbergUniversitätsbibliothek Heidelberg
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15G A THOUSAND MILKS UP THE NIL EL

lies through an opening between'the bowlders. Beyond
that opening the channel turns off sharply to the left. It
is a point at which everything will depend on the shifting
of a sail. If done too soon, we miss the mark; if too late,
we strike upon the rocks.

Suddenly our captain flings up his hand, takes the
stairs at a bound, and flies to the prow. The sailors
spring to their feet, gathering some round the shoghool,
and some round the end of the yard. The Fostat is up
beside us. The moment for winning or losing is come.

And now, for a couple of breathless seconds, the two
dahabeoyahs plunge onward side hy side, making for that
narrow passage which is only wide enough for one. Then
the iron boat, shaving the sand-bank to get a wider berth,
shifts her sail first, and shifts it clumsily, breaking or let-
ting go her shoghool. We see the sail flap and the rope
fly, and all hands rushing to retrieve it.

In that moment Reis Hassan gives the word. The
Philse bounds forward—takes the channel from under the
very bows of the Fostsit—changes her sail without a hitch—
and dips right away down the deep water, leaving her rival
hard and fast among the shallows.

The rest of the way is short and open. In less than five
minutes we have taken in our sail, paid Rei's Hassan his
well-earned guinee, and found a snug corner to moor in.
And so ends our memorable race of nearly sixty-eight
miles from Edfu to Assuan.
 
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