[p.193] sign of flinching; they swarmed towards the poop like angry hornets, and encouraged each other with cries of “Allaho akbar!” But we had a vantage-ground about four feet above them, and their palm-sticks and short daggers could do nothing against our terrible quarterstaves.  In vain the “Jacquerie,” tried to scale the poop and to overpower us by numbers; their courage only secured them more broken heads.

At first I began to lay on load with main morte, really fearing to kill some one with such a weapon; but it soon became evident that the Maghrabis’ heads and shoulders could bear and did require the utmost exertion of strength.  Presently a thought struck me.  A large earthen jar full of drinking water,[FN#3]-in its heavy frame of wood the weight might have been 100 lbs.,-stood upon the edge of the poop, and the thick of the fray took place beneath.  Seeing an opportunity, I crept up to the jar, and, without attracting attention, rolled it down by a smart push with the shoulder upon the swarm of assailants.  The fall caused a shriller shriek to rise above the ordinary din, for heads, limbs, and bodies were sorely bruised by the weight, scratched by the broken potsherds, and wetted by the sudden discharge.  A fear that something worse might be coming made the Maghrabis slink off towards the end of the vessel.  After a few minutes, we, sitting in grave silence, received a deputation of individuals in whity-brown Burnus, spotted and striped with what Mephistopheles calls a “curious juice.”  They solicited peace, which we granted upon the condition that they would pledge themselves to keep it.  Our heads, shoulders, and hands were penitentially kissed, and presently the fellows returned to bind up their hurts in dirty

[p.194] rags.  We owed this victory entirely to our own exertions, and the meek Omar was by far the fiercest of the party.  Our Rais, as we afterwards learned, was an old fool who could do nothing but call for the Fatihah,[FN#4] claim Bakhshish at every place where we moored for the night, and spend his leisure hours in the “Caccia del Mediterraneo.”  Our crew consisted of half a dozen Egyptian lads, who, not being able to defend themselves, were periodically chastised by the Maghrabis, especially when any attempt was made to cook, to fetch water, or to prepare a pipe.[FN#5]

At length, about 3 P.M. on the 6th July, 1853, we shook out the sail, and, as it bellied in the favourable wind, we recited the Fatihah with upraised hands which we afterwards drew down our faces.[FN#6] As the “Golden Wire” started from her place, I could not help casting one wistful look upon the British flag floating over the Consulate.  But the momentary regret was stifled by the heart-bounding which prospects of an adventure excite, and by the real pleasure of leaving Egypt.  I had lived there a stranger in the land, and a hapless life it had been:  in the streets every man’s face, as he looked upon the Persian, was the face of a foe.  Whenever I came in contact with the native officials,[FN#7] insolence marked the