THE Damascus Caravan was to set out on the 27th Zu’l Ka’adah (1st September). I had intended to stay at Al-Madinah till the last moment, and to accompany the Kafilat al-Tayyarah, or the “Flying Caravan,” which usually leaves on the 2nd Zu’l Hijjah, two days after that of Damascus.
Suddenly arose the rumour that there would be no Tayyarah,1 and that all pilgrims must proceed with the Damascus Caravan or await the Rakb. This is a Dromedary Caravan, in which each person carries only his saddle-bags. It usually descends by the road called Al-Khabt, and makes Meccah on the fifth day. The Sharif Zayd, Sa’ad the Robber’s only friend, had paid him an unsuccessful visit. Schinderhans demanded back his Shaykh-ship, in return for a safe-conduct through his country: “Otherwise,” said he, “I will cut the throat of every hen that ventures into the passes.”
The Sharif Zayd returned to Al-Madinah on the 25th Zu’l Ka’adah (30th August). Early on the morning of the next day, Shaykh Hamid returned hurriedly from the bazar, exclaiming, “You must make ready at once, Effendi! — there will be no Tayyarah — all Hajis start to-morrow — Allah will make it easy to you! — have you your water-skins in order? — you are to travel down the Darb al-Sharki, where you will not see water for three days!”
Poor Hamid looked horrorstruck as he concluded this fearful announcement, which filled me with joy. Burckhardt had visited and had described the Darb al-Sultani, the road along the coast. But no European had as yet travelled down by Harun al-Rashid’s and the Lady Zubaydah’s celebrated route through the Nijd Desert.
Not a moment, however, was to be lost: we expected to start early the next morning. The boy Mohammed went forth, and bought for eighty piastres a Shugduf, which lasted us throughout the pilgrimage, and for fifteen piastres a Shibriyah or cot to be occupied by Shaykh Nur, who did not relish sleeping on boxes. The youth was employed all day, with sleeves tucked up, and working like a porter, in covering the litter with matting and rugs, in mending broken parts, and in providing it with large pockets for provisions inside and outside, with pouches to contain the gugglets of cooled water.
Meanwhile Shaykh Nur and I, having inspected the water-skins, found that the rats had made considerable rents in two of them. There being no workman procurable at this time for gold, I sat down to patch the damaged articles; whilst Nur was sent to lay in supplies for fourteen days. The journey is calculated at eleven days; but provisions are apt to spoil, and the Badawi camel-men expect to be fed. Besides which, pilferers abound. By my companion’s advice I took wheat-flour, rice, turmeric, onions, dates, unleavened bread of two kinds, cheese, limes, tobacco, sugar, tea and coffee.
Hamid himself started upon the most important part of our business. Faithful camel-men are required upon a road where robberies are frequent and stabbings occasional, and where there is no law to prevent desertion or to limit new and exorbitant demands. After a time he returned, accompanied by a boy and a Badawi, a short, thin, well-built old man with regular features, a white beard, and a cool clear eye; his limbs, as usual, were scarred with wounds. Mas’ud of the Rahlah, a sub-family of the Hamidah family of the Benu-Harb, came in with a dignified demeanour, applied his dexter palm to ours,2 sat down, declined a pipe, accepted coffee, and after drinking it, looked at us to show that he was ready for nego[t]iation. We opened the proceedings with “We want men, and not camels,” and the conversation proceeded in the purest Hijazi.3 After much discussion, we agreed, if compelled to travel by the Darb al-Sharki, to pay twenty dollars for two camels,4 and to advance Arbun, or earnest-money, to half that amount.5 The Shaykh bound himself to provide us with good animals, which, moreover, were to be changed in case of accidents: he was also to supply his beasts with water, and to accompany us to Arafat and back. But, absolutely refusing to carry my large chest, he declared that the tent under the Shugduf was burden enough for one camel; and that the green box of drugs, the saddle-bags, and the provision-sacks, surmounted by Nur’s cot, were amply sufficient for the other. On our part, we bound ourselves to feed the Shaykh and his son, supplying them either with raw or with cooked provender, and, upon our return to Meccah from Mount Arafat, to pay the remaining hire with a discretionary present.
Hamid then addressed to me flowery praises of the old Badawi. After which, turning to the latter, he exclaimed, “Thou wilt treat these friends well, O Mas’ud the Harbi!” The ancient replied with a dignity that had no pomposity in it — “Even as Abu Shawarib — the Father of Mustachios6 — behaveth to us, so will we behave to him!” He then arose, bade us be prepared when the departure-gun sounded, saluted us, and stalked out of the room, followed by his son, who, under pretext of dozing, had mentally made an inventory of every article in the room, ourselves especially included.
When the Badawin disappeared, Shaykh Hamid shook his head, advising me to give them plenty to eat, and never to allow twenty-four hours to elapse without dipping hand in the same dish with them, in order that the party might always be “Malihin,”— on terms of salt.7 He concluded with a copious lecture upon the villainy of Badawin, and on their habit of drinking travellers’ water. I was to place the skins on a camel in front, and not behind; to hang them with their mouths carefully tied, and turned upwards, contrary to the general practice; always to keep a good store of li............