fortunately, upon leaving Suez, I
had given away all my tea to my servant, Mohammed, who was fond of it,
nothing doubting that I should be able to procure as much as I pleased
on board the steamer. The refusal was the more provoking, as there was
plenty of boiling water ready, and I had humbly limited my request to
a spoonful of tea. Under the circumstances, I was obliged to content
myself with milk and water: had the captain or the surgeon of the
vessel been at hand, I should doubtless have been supplied with every
thing I wanted, but in their absence, it was impossible to procure a
single article. Upon one occasion, while tea was serving, a passenger
in the saloon asked for a cup, and was told to go upon deck for it.
I also procured a supply of soda water at Aden. I had suffered much
from the want of this refreshing beverage during my fever, the supply
taken on board having been exhausted on the voyage up. The passengers
down the Red Sea have the disadvantage of sailing with exhausted
stores. It seems hardly fair to them, especially in cases of illness,
that the whole of any particular article should be given to the people
who embark at Bombay, they having a right to expect that, as they pay
the same price, a portion should be reserved for their use.
On the second day after our departure from Aden--that is, the 22nd
of October--we arrived at Makallah. It was mid-day before the vessel
ceased to ply her engines, and though invited to go on shore, as
we could not penetrate beyond the walls of the town, we thought it
useless to exchange our cabins for a hot room in the mansion of its
ruler. The town of Makallah, which forms the principal commercial
depot of the south-west of Arabia, is built upon a rocky platform of
some length, but of very inconsiderable width, backed by a perfect
wall of cliffs, and bounded in front by the sea. It seems tolerably
well built for an Arabian town, many of the houses being of a very
respectable appearance, two or more stories in height, and ornamented
with small turrets and cupolas: the nakib, or governor's residence, is
large, with a high square tower, which gives it the air of a citadel.
There is not a tree or shrub to be seen, the absence of vegetation
investing the place with a character of its own, and one that
harmonizes with the bold and bare rocks which bound the coast on
either side. We were told that, between two ranges of hills close to
the entrance of the town, a beautiful
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