XII
Next morning there was a great bustle on board the steamer. Saïd awoke in his narrow bunk to a noise of splashing and scrubbing overhead. The door of the sort of cupboard where he lay stood open; now and then a man’s shadow darkened it in passing.
It did not take long to remember where he was. The adventure of the previous night recurred vividly to his mind, seeming a madman’s to the sanity of early morning. He marvelled at the daring of it, and then, looking forward, his heart grew sick with forebodings. What future awaited him in the land of the English? It was a country favourable for all manner of trade, but he carried no merchandise with him. He had money, it was true, but when the price of his journey had been deducted from it only a small sum would be left. The fair women and girls, so easy to conquer, the chief attraction of that distant shore, seemed not so very desirable after all.
The great red face of a mariner looked in upon him with the roar of some savage beast. Its grin was friendly and its appearance cheered Saïd somewhat, so that, when it was withdrawn, he shook off his listlessness and got up. As he did so, his clothes and the leathern bag which held his treasure fell on the floor, covering it almost completely, so little space was there. Being naked, he had been hurried to bed overnight and had quite forgotten his bundle. Someone must have brought the things and laid them upon him while he slept. The garments had the crispness of linen dried at the fire.
An agony of fear seized him lest the sack should have been rifled and his money taken out. Naked save for his skullcap and turban, he knelt down in the narrow space between wall and bunk, and with trembling hands loosened the mouth of the bag; but a little groping reassured him. He smiled, drawing forth a small but heavy pouch with a string attached, which he made haste to hang as an amulet about his neck; first shutting the door so that no one passing by could observe him. “Allah is bountiful!” he murmured.
By the time he reached the deck the engines were panting like some huge beast held in leash that frets to go free. A crowd of little boats clung to the steamer’s side, waiting to see the last of her. Already the sun stood high above the ridge of Lebanon, and his beams made a dazzle on the dancing blue sea. The whiteness of the town, relieved by high red roofs, drew the eye to the southern horn of the bay, where the waves lapped its walls. Suburbs half hidden in foliage stretched all along the shore at the foot of the hills. Palm-trees rose conspicuous, singly and by clumps of two and three. The huge mountains, as yet in shadow, filled all the background, seeming very near indeed. Snow gleamed on the high, long crest of Jebel Sunnìn. The balm of the land and its murmur were wafted on the breeze.
Saïd’s heart went out to his native country. The singsong shouting of the sailors, the clank of a chain, the creaking swing of a windlass—all the noise attendant on weighing anchor sounded cruel and callous in his ears. It jeered him as the voice of fate made audible. His past was slipping from him irrevocably with every pant of the mighty engines, with every puff of the funnel, which began to belch forth dense clouds of whitish smoke that tossed seaward before it like the blown mane of a horse.
The hiss and roar of the safety-valve ceased of a sudden. In place of panting there was a dull, strong throb which was felt in every plank and plate of the ship. The smoke from the funnel wavered a moment, as if doubtful which direction to take, then streamed out steadily over the stern, casting a ribbon of shadow on the churned-up waters in the wake. The little boats fell away from the side with men standing up in them, waving goodbye. They dwindled, were left far behind, and ever the throbbing grew to fuller purpose, as though the ship had a soul, an imprisoned jinni toiling with bitter sobs.
Saïd was shortly led below to a breakfast of weird bread in which was no sustenance, of butter whose exceeding yellowness and bitter, saltish flavour filled him with distrust, of coffee such as he had never tasted and hoped to Allah he might never taste again. There was meat also, but that he would not touch, believing it to be pig’s flesh or something unclean. He did not dwell long upon the meal, but when he returned on deck the city and the shoreline had already sunk out of sight; only the crests of Lebanon stood up sheer out of the sea with white streaks of snow among them, the wake of the ship stretching, an ever-widening path, to their feet.
For hours Saïd sat cross-legged in the lee of a cabin, watching those summits dwindle and grow dreamy in the distance, till at last they were no more than a thin cloud on the horizon. The sailors smiled and spoke friendly to him as they went about their work. He sat in the shade, with hot sunshine all about him, and the eternal lapping of a sea, dead blue as lapis lazuli, sounded pleasant in his ears. “O Allah! O Lord, have mercy!” was his soul’s bitter cry as the coasts of Es-Shâm sank beneath the sea-line. And yet he felt not half so wretched as he had expected.
That night a heavy thunderstorm burst, and all the next day the sky was overcast with rain driving in torrents before a cold wind. It was the beginning of winter, and Saïd shunned the bleakness of the upper deck.
