fter curve, like some mighty serpent, far back
into the quivering haze that hovered over the hot brassy desert--such
were the main features of the famous passage, begun by Pharaoh-Necho,
and finished by Lesseps. The sun was sinking as they cast anchor for the
night before Ismailia, and saw the mouth of the Sweetwater Canal, and
the docks and houses of the brand-new town which the late sovereign of
Egypt built and named after himself, fading into the fast-falling
darkness.

Starting again next morning, they passed Suez about noon (fortunately
without having to halt at one of the ugliest and dirtiest towns in the
world), and headed down the Red Sea. Frank took a good look, in passing,
at the bold headland of Ras Attakah, which is said by the best
authorities to mark the scene of the Israelite passage, and where,
according to a grim Arab legend, the shrieks of Pharaoh's drowning host
may still be heard at times mingling with the roar of the storm. Farther
on, a break in the sea-board hills gave him one glimpse of the huge
square dark gray mass of Sinai,[2] far away to the east; and then they
were in the open sea once more.

Keeping well out to sea, they escaped the net-work of coral reefs which
beset the Arabian coast for forty-five miles together; but they could
not escape the heat, which overpowered not a few even of the old hands.
Again and again strong men were carried fainting from the engine-room,
to be tended by a surgeon almost as sick as themselves. The stiff breeze
that was blowing, instead of refreshing them, seemed to bring with it
the heat of all the African deserts at once, and a passing steamer
signaled that she had lost _sixteen_ men by it in two days.

"See that lubber of a mountain spoutin' fire, as if 'twarn't hot enough
already!" growled Herrick, pointing to the volcanic islet of Jebel Teer.
"That other island yonder's where the Arabs think their spirits go when
they die; but I guess if _I_ was a spirit, I'd like to have a cooler
berth."

But once through the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb (Gate of Tears) into the
Indian Ocean, Frank's ideas of a tropical voyage were fully realized.
Bright skies, smooth seas, a steady breeze abeam keeping all cool,
porpoises frolicking around the ship by hundreds, gay-plumaged birds
alighting in the rigging, and a dance on deck every night to the music
of fiddle and concertina, with a roaring accompaniment of sea-chorus
that might have pleased Captain Marryat himself. Fra