The German is nothing if not systematic4, be he prime minister or errant adventurer. The Teutonic tramp does not wander at random5 through lands of which his knowledge is chaotic6 or nil2. He profits by the experience of his fellow-ramblers. If he covers an unknown route, he returns with a notebook full of information for his fellows. Thanks to this method, the German beggar colony of Cairo had long contained a bureau of information to which many a vagabond of other nationality bewailed his linguistic7 inability to gain access. The archives of “the union” were particularly rich in Egyptian lore8. For there is but one route in Egypt. He who has once journeyed up or down the Nile, with open eyes, is an authority on the whole country.
Several of die Kunde were romping9 about on as many vermin colonies when I entered, on this February afternoon, the room in which Pia was accustomed to pen his eleemosynary masterpieces. It was an informal and chance gathering10 that included nearly every authority in “the union” on the territory beyond the Tombs of the Mamelukes. My projected journey awakened11 great interest in all the group.
“As for myself,” said Pia, “I can’t see why you go. Most of the comrades do, of course, but they will make the journey worth while. As for a man who will only work! Pah! You will starve and die in the sands up there.”
The emaciated12 door was kicked open and a burly young man entered and threw himself across the foot of one of the cots.
“Ah, now,” Pia went on, “there is Heinrich. He is going up the Nile too, in a few days. He’s been up six times already. Why don’t 216you go up with him? He knows all the ropes and you, being an American—”
“Was!” roared the newcomer, “Ein Amerikaner? Going up the river? Shake, mein lieber! We go up together! We’ll do more business—”
“But if I go up, I’ll spend considerable time sight-seeing—”
“Sights? There’s something I never could understand. All the tourists go up to see sights! Thank the Lord they do; what would the business be without them? But what the devil do they see? Hundreds of miles of dry, choking sand, with nothing but dirty Nile water to wash it off your face and out of your throat! A lot of smashed-up rocks, covered with pictures of hens and roosters, all red hot under the cursed sun that never stops blazing. And besides that, niggers—millions of dirty niggers, blind niggers, and half-blind niggers who do nothing but crawl around after decent white men and beg. That’s all there is in Egypt, if you go up the Nile, till you come to the sudd-fields of Uganda.”
“Well what do you go up for?” I asked. Even this brief acquaintance with Heinrich convinced me that he would die the death of a martyr13 rather than disgrace die Kamaraden by working.
“What for? Why so I won’t starve, to be sure. If I could wiggle the feather and paint like Otto there, I’d see hell freeze over before I’d move a mile south of Cairo. But I can’t, so I must go over the soft-hearted ones again. I’ve worked ’em pretty hard the last two years, but the game’s good yet. I’ve grown this beard since the last trip, and got a new story all bolstered14 up. I’m a civil engineer this time, with a wife and three children here in Cairo. Going up, I’ll be making for the Berber-Suakim line, after spending all I had on the kid’s doctor bills. Coming down, it’s the fever story—that’s always good—or my wife is dying and, if we can get her back to Hamburg before she croaks15, she’ll get an inheritance her uncle just left her. Pretty neat that, eh?” grinned Heinrich, turning to his admiring mates. “Thought that out one night when I couldn’t sleep. Brand new, isn’t it? Aber, Gott, mein lieber,” he addressed me once more, “if you’ll only come along! I can’t speak English, and most of the soft ones know my face. But I’ll point out everyone of them from here to Assuan. I’ll lay low and we’ll share even.”
A woman of Alexandria, Egypt, carrying two bushels of oranges. Even barefooted market-women wear the veil required by the Koran
On the top of the largest pyramid. From the ground it looks as sharply pointed18 as the others
I declined to enter into an offensive alliance against the “soft ones,” however, and turned to Pia for the information which he had once promised to give me. While he talked, every other lounger in the room 217added his voice from time to time; and from deep wells of experience I gleaned19 a long list of names, flanked by biographical details, as we journeyed mentally up the river. This vagabond’s edition of “Who’s Who in Egypt” completed, Pia laid down several rules of the road.
“I don’t see why you go up,” he began. “You can make a fortune right here. If you are determined20 to go, get a good story and always stick to it, changing it enough to fit different cases. Some, it will pay you to ask for work—you know the breed; others, just ask for money. Take anything they give you. You can sell it if you don’t want it. Always see the big men long before train time. They will often offer to buy you a ticket to wherever you want to go; and, if the train is soon due, they may go to the station and buy it. But if you touch them long before train time, they may give you the money and go back to business. Then you can spend a couple of piastres to the next station and work that the same way. The sugar factories are all good—they’ll even give you work, perhaps, if you are fool enough to take it. Always hit the young Englishmen. They’re almost all of them adventurers with nothing much to do with their money. When you catch a missionary21, make him take up a collection for you among the native Christians23. He must do it, by the rules of the Board of Missions.
“The ticket game is always best. If you get three or four men in each town to give you the price to Assiut or Assuan, you can make the trip in a month and pick up good money. When you get a lot of silver, change it at any of Cook’s offices into gold sovereigns and sew them up in your clothes. Be sure not to let any money rattle24 when you’re spinning a hard-luck yarn25. And don’t be a fool, like some of the comrades who have gone up for one trip. They pump a town dry, and, not satisfied to wait until they hit Cairo again, go on a blow-out and lie around drunk for a week where those who gave them ticket money can see them. That queers the burg for the next six months. Of course you know enough to be of the same church, and very pious26, when you hit a missionary, and to be from the same state when you touch an American? Above all never let a boat load of tourists go by without touching27 them. Always go down to the dock and make enough noise so that they all hear you. Some of the boys who are good at it throw a fit when they get in a crowd of rich ones. But as you talk English, a good tale of woe28 will do as well. When you get well up the river, and a good tan, and a couple of weeks’ beard, spring the old yarn of ‘lost my job and must get down to Cairo.’ 218And always wait for a train. You’ll miss the whole game if you walk; and you’ll die of sunstroke, besides.”
In the face of Pia’s warning, I left Cairo on foot the next morning, and, crossing the Nile, turned southward along a ridge29 of shifting sand beyond the village of Gizeh. Along an irrigating30 ditch, that flanked the ridge, scores of shadufs, those human paradigms31 of perpetual motion, were ceaselessly dipping, dipping, the water that gives life to the fields of Egypt. Between the canal and the sparkling Nile, groups of fellahs, deaf to the blatant32 sunshine, set out sugar cane33 or clawed the soil of the arid34 plain. On the desert wind rode the never-ceasing squawk of the sakka, or Egyptian water-wheel.
Beyond the pyramids of Sakkara, I sought shelter in the palm groves35 that cover the site of ancient Memphis, and took my siesta36 on the recumbent statue of Rameses. A backsheesh-thirsty village rose up to cut off my return to the sandy road, and forced me to run a gauntlet of out-stretched hands. ’Tis the national anthem38 of Egypt, this cry of backsheesh. Workmen at their labor39, women bound for market, children rooting in the streets, drop all else to surge after the faranchee who may be induced to “sprinkle iron” among them. Even the unclothed infant astride a mother’s shoulder thrusts forth40 a dimpled hand to the passing white man with a gurgle of “sheesh.”
As darkness came on I reached the railway station of Mazgoona, some thirty miles from Cairo. The village lay far off to the eastward41; but the station master invited me to supper and spread a quilt bed in the telegraph office.
A biting wind blew from the north when I set out again in the morning. A hundred yards from the station, a cry of “monsoor” was borne to my ears, and a servant summoned me back to his master’s office.
“I have just received a wire,” said the latter, “from the division superintendent42. He is coming on the next train. Wait and ask him for a job.”
A half-hour later there stepped from the north-bound express, not the grey-haired man I had expected, but a beardless English youth who could not have been a day over twenty. It was a new experience to apply for work to a man younger than myself, but I respectfully stated my case.
“I haven’t a vacancy43 on my division just at present,” said the boy. “There is plenty of work in Assiut, though. Want to go that far south?”
“Along the way shadoofs were ceaselessly dipping up the water that gives life to the fields of Egypt”
The “Tombs of the Kings” from the top of the Libyan range, to which I climbed above the plain of Thebes
219“Yes,” I answered.
He drew a card from his pocket and scribbled44 on it two fantastic Arabic characters.
“Take the third-class coach,” he said, handing me the pass. “This covers my division; but you might drop off in Beni Suef and look about.”
Following his advice, I halted near noonday at that wind-swept village. There was no need to make inquiry45 for the European residents; they were all duly recorded in the “comrades’ Baedeker.” As in Cairo, however, they offered money in lieu of work, and clutched weakly at the nearest support when I refused it. A young Englishman, inscribed46 in my notes as “Bromley, Pasha, Inspector47 of Irrigation; quite easy,” gave me evening rendezvous48 on the bank of the canal beyond the village. Long after dark he appeared on horseback, attended by two natives with flaming torches, and, being ferried across the canal, led the way towards his dahabeah, anchored at the shore of the Nile.
“I fancied I’d find something to put you at,” he explained, as he turned his horse over to a jet-black groom49 who popped up out of the darkness, “but I didn’t, and the last train’s gone. I’ll buy you a ticket to Assiut in the morning.”
“I have a pass,” I put in.
“Oh,” said the Englishman, “well, you’ll put up with me here to-night, anyway.”
He led the way across the gangplank. The change from the bleak51 wastes of African sand to this floating palace was as startling as if Bromley, Pasha, had been possessor of Aladdin’s lamp. Richly-turbaned servants, in spotless white gowns, sprang forward to greet their master; to place a chair for him; to pull off his riding boots and replace them with slippers52; to slip the Cairo daily into his hands; and sped noiselessly away to finish the preparation of the evening meal. Had Bromley, Pasha, been a fellow countryman, I might have enjoyed the pleasure of his company instead of dining alone in the richly-furnished anteroom. But Englishmen of the “upper classes” are not noted53 for their democratic spirit, and the good inspector, no doubt, dreaded54 the uncouth55 table manners of a plebeian56 from half-civilized America.
Breakfast over, next morning, I returned to the village and departed on the south-bound express. The third-class coach was densely58 packed with huddled59 natives and their unwieldy cargo60; all, that is, except the bench around the sides, on which a trio of gloomy Arabs, denied the privilege of squatting61 on the floor, perched like fowls62 on a 220roost. The air that swept through the open car was as wintry as the Egyptian is wont63 to experience. Only the faces of the males were uncovered. The women, wrapped like mummies in fold after fold of black gowns, crouched64 utterly65 motionless, well-nigh indistinguishable from the bundles of baggage. Even the guard, wading66 through the throng67, brought no sign of life from the prostrate68 females; for their tickets were invariably produced by a male escort.
The congestion69 was somewhat relieved at the junction70 of the Fayoum branch. The men who had reached their destination rose to their feet, struggled to extricate71 their much-tied bundles, and rolled them over their fellow travelers and down the steps. Not a female stirred during this unwonted activity of her lord and master. When he had safely deposited his more valuable chattels72 on the platform, he returned to grasp her by the hand and drag her unceremoniously out the door.
Around the train swarmed74 hawkers of food. Dates, boiled eggs, baked fish, oranges, and soggy bread-cakes, in quantity sufficient to have supplied an army, were thrust upon whomever ventured to peer outside. From the neighboring fields came workmen laden75 down with freshly cut bundles of sugar cane, to give the throng the appearance of a forest in motion. Three great canes76, as long and unwieldy as bamboo fish rods, sold at a small piastre, and hardly a native in the car purchased less than a half-dozen. By the time we were off again, the coach had been converted into a fodder77 bin78.
The canes were broken into two-foot lengths, and each purchaser, grasping a section in his hands, bit into it, and, jerking his head from side to side like a bulldog, tore off a strip. Then with a sucking that was heard above the roar of the train, he extracted the juice and cast the pulp79 on the floor about him. At each station, new arrivals squatted80 on the festive81 remnants left by their predecessors82 and spat83 industriously84 at the valleys which marked the resting places of the departed. The pulp dried rapidly, and by noonday the floor of the car was carpeted with a sugar-cane mat several inches thick.
My pass ran out in the early afternoon, and I set off to canvass85 the metropolis86 of upper Egypt. Several Europeans had already expressed their regrets when, towards evening, I caught sight of the stars and stripes waving over an unusually large building. I turned in at the gate and made inquiry of a native grubbing in the yard.
“Thees house?” he cried, “you not know what thees is? Thees American Hospital.”
221I drew out my notes. Beneath the name of the hospital appeared this entry:—“Dr. Henry and Dr. Bullock, Americans; easy marks; very religious.”
“Come and see house,” invited the native. “Very beeg.”
He led the way to one side of the building, where nearly a hundred natives, suffering with every small ailment87 from festered legs to toothache, were huddled disconsolately88 about the office stairway.
“Thees man come get cured,” said my guide. “Thees not sick nuff go bed. American Doctors very good, except”—and his voice dropped to a whisper—“wants all to be Christian22.”
The patients filed into the office, emerged with cards in their hands, and crowded about the door of the dispensary. As the last emaciated wretch89 limped away, a slender, aged91" target="_blank">middle-aged90 white man descended92 the steps.
“Thees Dr. Henry,” whispered the native. “Doctor, thees man be American.”
I tendered my letter of introduction from the American consulate93.
“A mechanical engineer!” cried the doctor. “Fine! Just the man we are looking for. Come with me.”
An engineer I was not—of any species. That profession had been forced upon me by the carelessness of Mr. Morgan’s secretary. But there flashed suddenly across my mind the saying of an erstwhile employer in California:—“When you’re looking for work, never admit there’s anything you can’t do.” I followed after the doctor.
At the rear of the establishment, Dr. Bullock and a well-dressed native were superintending the labors94 of a band of Egyptians, grubbing about the edge of a large reservoir.
“Now, here is the problem,” said the older man, when he had introduced me to his colleague. “This reservoir is our water supply. It is filled by the inundations of the Nile. But towards the end of the dry season the water gets so low that our force-pump will not raise it. The native engineer whom we have called in is a graduate of the best technical school in Cairo. But—ah—er”—his voice fell low—“you know what natives are? Now what do you suggest?”
Compelled to spar for wind, I asked to be shown the pump and to have the reservoir sounded. The native engineer hung on our heels, listening for any words of wisdom that might fall from my lips. Fortunately, I had once seen a similar difficulty righted.
“There are two possible solutions of the trouble,” I began, in an authoritative95 voice, swinging round until the native appeared on the 222edge of my field of vision. “The first is to buy a much more powerful pump”—the native scowled96 blackly—“the second is to build a smaller reservoir halfway97 up, get another small pump, and—er—relay the water to the top.” The engineer was smiling blandly98 at the doctors’ backs. “Now the first would be costly99. The second requires only a few yards of pipe, a cheap pump, and a bit of excavating100.”
“Ah!” cried the native, rushing forward, “That is my idea exactly, only I did not wish to say—”
“Bah!” interrupted Dr. Henry, “Your idea! Why don’t you fellows ever have an idea until someone else gives you one? I’m glad. Dr. Bullock, that we’ve got a man at last who—”
“Yes,” I repeated, “I should put in two pumps, by all means.”
“I’ll send in the order to Cairo to-night,” said the doctor. “Bring your men in the morning, efendee, and set them to digging the reservoir. You don’t need another man to help you on that, I hope?”
“You will find little work in Assiut, just now,” he went on, as we entered the hospital. “By all means go to Assuan. There is employment for every class of mechanic on the barrage101. I suppose two dollars will about cover your fee?” He dropped four ten-piastre pieces into my hand. “But you must stay to supper with us. We have one bed unoccupied, too; but three men have died in it in the past month, and if you are superstitious—”
“Not in the least,” I protested.
I rose long before daylight next morning, and groped my way to the station. A ticket to Luxor took barely half my fee as consulting engineer. At break of day, the railway crossed to the eastern bank, and at the next station the train stood motionless while driver, trainmen, and passengers executed their morning prayers in the desert sand. Beyond, the chimneys of great sugar refineries102 belched103 forth dense57 clouds of smoke, and at every halt shivering urchins104 offered for sale the crude product of the factories, cone-shaped lumps, dark-brown in color.
The voice of the south spoke105 more distinctly with every mile. We were approaching, now, the district where rain and dew are utterly unknown. The desert grew more arid, the whirling sand finer, more penetrating106. The natives, already of darker hue107 than the cinnamon-colored Cairene, grew blacker and blacker. The chilling wind of two days past turned tepid108, then piping hot, and, ere we drew into Luxor, Egypt lay, as of old, under her mantle109 of densest110 sunshine.
A water-carrier of Luxor. A goatskin full costs one cent
The tourist colony of Luxor, housed in two great faranchee hotels, 223would be incomplete without a rendezvous for “the comrades.” Close by the station squats111 a tumble-down shack112, styled the “Hotel Economica,” wherein, dreaming away his old age over a cigarette, sits Pietro Saggharia. Pietro was a “comrade” once. His tales of “the road,” gleaned in forty years of errant residence in Africa, and couched in almost any tongue the listener may choose, are to be had for a kind word, even while the exiled Greek is serving the forbidden liquor to backsliding Mohammedans and the white wanderers who take shelter beneath his roof.
I left my knapsack in Pietro’s keeping and struck off for the great ruins of Karnak. The society intrusted with the preservation113 of the monuments of upper Egypt has put each important ruin in charge of a guardian114, and denies admittance to all who leave Cairo without a ticket issued by the society. The price thereof is little short of a vagabond’s fortune. I journeyed to Karnak, therefore, resolved to be content with a view of her row of sphinxes and a circuit of her outer walls.
About the approach to the ancient palaces the seekers after backsheesh held high court. Before I had shaken off the last screeching115 youth, I came upon a great iron gate that shut out the unticketed, and paused to peer through the bars for a glimpse of the much-heralded interior. On the ground before the barrier squatted a sleek117, well-fed native. He rose and announced himself as the guard; but made no attempt to drive me off.
“You don’t see much from here,” he said, in Arabic, as I turned away. “Have you already seen the temple? Or perhaps you have no ticket?”
“La, ma feesh,” I replied; “therefore I must stay outside.”
“Ah! Then you are no tourist?” smiled the native. “Are you English?”
“Aywa,” I answered, for the Arabic term “inglesi” covers all who speak that tongue, “but no tourist, merely a workingman.”
“Ah,” sighed the guard, “too bad you are an inglesi then; for if you spoke French, the superintendent of the excavations119 is a good friend of workingmen. But he speaks no English.”
“Where shall I find him?”
“In the office just over the hill, there.”
I took the direction indicated, and came upon a temporary structure, before which an aged European sat motionless in a rocking chair. 224About him was scattered120 a miscellaneous collection of statues, broken and whole.
“Are you the superintendent, sir?” I asked, in French.
The octogenarian frowned, but answered not a word. I repeated the question in a louder voice.
“Va t’en!” shrieked121 the old man, grasping a heavy cane that leaned against his chair and shaking it feebly at me. “Go away! You’re a beggar. I know you are.”
Evidently the fourth layer of shirt bosom123, uncovered specially124 for the occasion, had failed in its mission. I pleaded a case of mistaken identity. The aged Frenchman watched me with the half-closed eyes of a cat, clinging to his stick.
“Why do you want to see the superintendent?” he demanded.
“To work, if he has any. If not, to see the temple.”
“You will not ask him for money?”
“By no means.”
“Bien! En ce cas—Maghmoód,” he coughed.
A native appeared at the door of the shanty125.
“My son is the superintendent,” said the old man, displaying a grotesque126 pattern of wrinkles that was meant for a smile. “Follow Maghmoód.”
The son, an affable young Frenchman attired127 in the thinnest of white trousers and an open shirt, was bowed over a small stone covered with hieroglyphics128. I made known my errand.
“Work?” he replied, “No. Unfortunately the society allows us to hire only natives. I wish I might have a few Europeans to superintend the excavations. But I am always pleased to find a workman interested in the antiquities129. You are as free to go inside as if you had a ticket. But it is midday now. How do you escape a sunstroke with only that cap? You had better sit here in the shade until the heat dies down a bit.”
I assured him that the Egyptian sun had no evil effects upon me and he stepped to the door to shout an order to the sleek gatekeeper just out of sight over the hill. That official grinned knowingly as I appeared, unlocked the gate, and, fending130 off with one hand several elusive131 urchins, admitted me to the noonday solitude132 of the forest of pillars.
As the shadows began to lengthen133, a flock of “Cookies” invaded the sacred precincts, and, stumbling through the ruins in pursuit of 225their shepherds, two dragomans of phonographical erudition, awoke the dormant134 echoes with their bleating135. With their departure, came less precipitous mortals, weighed down under cameras and notebooks. Interest centered in one animated136 corner of the enclosure. There, in the latest excavation118, an army of men and boys toiled137 at the shadufs that raised the sand and the water which the sluiceways poured into the pit to loosen the soil. Other natives, naked but for a loin-cloth, groped in the mud at the bottom, eager to win the small reward offered to the discoverer of each arch?ological treasure.
One such prize was captured during the afternoon. A small boy, half buried in the ooze138, suddenly ceased his wallowing with a shrill139 shriek122 of triumph; and came perilously140 near being trampled141 out of sight by his fellow-workmen. In a twinkling, half the band, amid a mighty142 uproar143 of shouting and splashing, was tugging144 at some heavy object still hidden from view.
They raised it at last,—a female figure in blue stone, some four feet in length, which had suffered downfall, burial, and the onslaughts of the Arab horde145 without apparent injury. The news of the discovery was quickly carried to the shanty on the hill. In a great pith helmet that gave him a striking resemblance to a walking toadstool, the superintendent hurried down to the edge of the pit and gave orders that the statue be carried to a level space, about which a throng of excited tourists lay in wait with open notebooks. There it was carefully washed with sponges, gloated over by the aforementioned tourists, and placed on a car of the tiny railway system laid through the ruins. Natives, in number sufficient to have moved one of Karnak’s mighty pillars, tailed out on the rope attached to the car, and, moving to the rhythm of a weird146 Arabic song of rejoicing, dragged the new find through the temple and deposited it at the feet of the aged Frenchman.
As evening fell, I turned back to the Hotel Economica. Several “comrades” had gathered, but neither they nor Pietro could give me information concerning the land across the Nile, which I proposed to visit next day. The Greek knew naught148 of the ruins of Thebes, save the anecdote149 of a former guest, who had attempted the excursion and returned wild with thirst, mumbling150 an incoherent tale of having floundered in seas of sand.
“For our betters,” said Pietro, in the softened151 Italian in which he chose to address me. “For the rich ladies and gentlemen who can ride on donkeys and be guarded by many dragomans, a visit to Thebes 226is very well. But common folk like you and I! Bah! We are not wanted there. They would send no army to look for us if we disappeared in the desert. Besides, you must have a ticket to see anything.”
I drew from my pocket the folders152 of the Egyptian tourist companies. A party from the Anglo-Saxon steamer, tied up before the temple of Luxor, was scheduled to leave for an excursion to Thebes in the morning. What easier plan than to shadow these more fortunate nomads153?
Fearful of being left behind, I rose at dawn and hastened away to the bazaars154 to make provision for the day—bread-cakes for hunger and oranges for thirst. A native boatman, denied a fee of ten piastres, accepted one, and set me down on the western bank. The shrill screams of a troop of donkey boys, embarking155 their animals below the temple, greeted the rising sun. Not long after their landing a vanguard of three veiled and helmeted tourists stepped ashore156, and, mounting as many animals, sped away into the trackless desert. I followed them as swiftly as was consistent with faranchee dignity until the last resounding157 whack158 of a donkey boy’s stave came faintly to my ear; then sat down to await the next section. The inhabitants of a mud village swooped159 down upon me, and, convinced that I had fallen from my donkey, sought to force upon me a score of wabbly-kneed beasts. My refusal to choose one of these “ver’ cheap, ver’ fine” animals was taken as an attempt at facetiousness160, which it was to their interests as prospective161 beneficiaries to roar at with delight. When the supposed canard162 waxed serious, their mirth turned to virulence163, and I was in a fair way to be mounted by force when the steamer party rode down upon us.
’Twas an inspiring sight. The half-mile train of donkeys that trailed off across the desert was bestridden by every condition of Anglo-Saxon from raw-boned scientists and diaphanous164 maidens165 to the corpulent matrons and mighty masses of self-made men whose incessantly166 belabored167 animals brought up the rear. I kept pace with the band and even outstripped168 the stragglers. After an hour’s swift march, that left me dripping with perspiration169, the party dismounted to inspect a temple. Gates were there none, and what two guardians170 could examine the tickets of such a band all at once? I had satisfied my antiquarian tastes before an observant dragoman pointed me out to the officials, and my consequent exit gave me just the time needed to empty the sand from my slippers before the cavalcade171 set off again.
The main entrance to the ruins of Karnak
227The sharp ascent172 to the Tombs of the Kings was more irksome to an over-burdened ass16 than to a pedestrian. Even though the jeering173 donkey boys succeeded in pocketing me in the narrow gorges174, it was I who carried news of the advancing throng to the gate of the mausoleum. A native lieutenant175 of police was on hand to offer assistance to the keeper against the unticketed. But the lieutenant spoke Italian, and was so delighted to find that he could hold converse176 with me without being understood by the surrounding rabble177, that he gave me permission to enter, in face of the gate tender’s protest.
Sufficiently178 orientated179 now to find my way alone, I took silent leave of the party and struck southward towards a precipitous cliff of stone and sand. To pass this barrier the bedonkeyed must make a circuit of many miles. Clinging to crack and crevice180, I began the ascent. Halfway up, a roar of voices sounded from the plain below. I groped for a safer hand hold and looked down. About the lieutenant at the foot of the cliff was grouped the official party, gazing upward, confirmed now, no doubt, in their earlier suspicion that I was some madman at large. Before their circuit of the mountain had well begun, I had reached the summit above the goal from which they were separated by many a weary mile.
The view that spread out from the rarely visited spot might well have awakened the envy of the tourists below. North and south, unadorned by a vestige181 of verdure, stretched the Lybian range, deep vermilion in the valleys, the salient peaks splashed blood-red by the homicidal sunshine. Below bourgeoned the plain of Thebes, its thick green carpet weighted down by a few fellaheen villages and the ponderous182 playthings of an ancient civilization. As the eye wandered, a primeval saying took on new meaning:—“Egypt is the Nile.” Tightly to the life-giving river, distinctly visible in this marvelous atmosphere for a hundred miles, clung the slender land of Egypt, a spotless ribbon of richest green, following every contour of the Father of Waters. All else was but a limitless sea of yellow, choking sand.
I descended to the Tomb of Queen Hatasu and spent the afternoon among the ruins on the edge of the plain. Arriving alone and unannounced, I had little difficulty in entering where I chose. For were the guardian not asleep, I had only to refuse to understand his Arabic 228and his excited gestures, until I had examined each monument to my heart’s content. I had passed the Colossi of Memnon before the tourists, jaded183 and drooping184 from a day in the saddle, overtook me, and I made headway against them to the bank of the river. There they shook me off, however. The dragomans in charge of the party snarled185 in anger when I offered to pay for the privilege of embarking in the company boat. There was nothing else to do, much as I rebelled against the recrimination, but to be ferried over with the donkeys.
I departed, next day, by the narrow-gauge railway to Assuan, and reached that watering place of the first cataract186 in time to grace the afternoon concert. Pietro’s retreat is the last of the chain. Nearly six hundred miles, now, from the headquarters of die Kunde, I was reduced again to a native inn and the companionship of a half-barbaric horde. It was no such palace as housed my fellow-countrymen on Elephantine Island; but the bedroom on the roof was airy, and the bawling187 of a muezzin in the minaret188 above summoned forth no other faranchee to witness the gorgeous birth of a new day.
Some miles beyond Assuan lay the new barrage, where work was plentiful189. Just how far, I could not know; still less that it was connected with the village by rail. From morning until high noon, I clawed my way along the ragged147 cliffs overhanging the impoverished190 cataract, ere I came in sight of the vast barrier that has robbed it of its waters. Among the rocks of what was once the bed of the Nile, sat a dozen wooden shanties191. From the largest, housing the superintendent, came sounds of revelry out of all keeping with the gigantic task at hand. It transpired192, however, that this was no ordinary dinner-hour festival. I had arrived, as so often before, mal à propos.
“Work?” gurgled the superintendent, handing back my papers, “The bloody193 work is off the slate194, Yank.”
Was it the Egyptian sun that had made him so merry? Perhaps. But there was more than one bottle, blown with the name of Rheims, scattered in the sand before the hut.
“Yesh,” confided195 the Englishman, “she’s all over, old cock. We’re goin’ down in the morning. A few dago masons and the coolies will mess about a few weeks more; but all these lads are, hick—‘Sailin’ ’ome to merry England; never more to roam,’” and his voiced pitched and stumbled over the well-known melody. “But the man that comes up to work in this murderin’ sun should be paid for it, boys, even if 229it’s only a bloomin’ intention. ’Ere, lads, pass the ’at for the Yank. ’E can’t go ’ome to-mor—” but I was gone.
I was still the proud possessor of fifty piastres. That sum could not carry me down to the Mediterranean196; for the fare by train to Cairo was sixty-five, and the steamer rate of forty-five did not include food. Moreover, ’tis the true vagabond spirit to push on until the last resource is exhausted197; and what a reputation I might win among the Kunde by outstripping198 the best weaver199 of M?rchen among them!
The railway was ended, but steamers departed twice a week from Shellal, above the barrage. At the landing a swarm73 of natives were loading a dilapidated barge200, and a native agent was dozing201 behind the bars of a home-made ticket office.
“Yes,” he yawned, in answer to my query202, “there is to-night leaving steamer. Soon be here. The fare is two hundred and fifty piastres.”
“Two hun—” I gasped203. “Why, that must be first-class.”
“Yes, very first class. But gentleman not wish travel second class?”
“Certainly not. Give me a third-class ticket.”
The Egyptian fell on his feet and stared at me through the grill204.
“What say gentleman? Third-class! No! No! Not go third-class. Second-class one hundred and eighty piastres, very poor.”
“But there is a third-class, isn’t there?”
“Third-class go. Forty piastres. But only for Arabs. White man never go third-class. Not give food, not give sleep, not ride on steamer; ride on barge there, tied with steamer with string. All gentlemen telling me must have European food. Gentlemen not sleep with boxes and horses on barge? Very Arab; very stink—”
“Yes, I know; but give me a third-class ticket,” I interrupted, counting out forty piastres.
The native blinked, sat down dejectedly on his stool, and, with a sigh of resignation, reached for a ticket. Suddenly his face lighted up and he pushed my money back to me.
“If white man go third-class,” he crowed, “must have pass of Soudan gover’ment. Not can sell ticket without.”
“But how can I get a pass before I am in the Soudan?”
“There is living English colonel with fort, far side Assuan.”
I hurried away to the railway station. The fare to Assuan was a few cents, and one train ran each way during the afternoon. But it 230made the up-trip first! I struck out on the railroad, raced through Assuan, and tore my way through the jungle to the fort, three miles below the village. A squad205 of khaki-clad black men flourished their bayonets uncomfortably near my ribs206. I bawled207 out my errand in Arabic, and an officer waved the sentinels aside.
“The colonel is sleeping now,” he said; “come this evening.”
“But I want a pass for this evening’s steamer.”
“We cannot wake the colonel.”
“Is there no one else who can sign the order?”
“Only the colonel. Come this evening.”
Order or no order, I would not be red-taped out of a journey into the Soudan. I readjusted my knapsack and pranced208 off for the third time on the ten-mile course between Assuan and Shellal. Night was falling as I sped through the larger village. When I stepped aside for the down-train, my legs wobbled under me like two pneumatic supports from which half the air had escaped. The screech116 of a steamboat whistle resounded209 through the Nile valley as I came in sight of the lights of Shellal. I broke into a run, falling, now and then, on the uneven210 ground. The sky was clear, but there was no moon and the night was black despite the stars. The deck hands were already casting off the shore lines of the barge, and the steamer was churning the shallow water. I pulled off my coat, threw it over my head, after the fashion in which the fellah wears his gown after nightfall, and, thus slightly disguised, dashed towards the ticket office.
“A ticket to Wady Haifa,” I gasped in Arabic, striving to imitate the apologetic tone of an Egyptian peasant. For once I saw a native move with something like haste. The agent glanced at the money, snatched a ticket, and thrust it through the bars, crying: “Hurry up, the boat is go—” but the white hand that clutched the ticket betrayed me. The agent sprang to the door with a howl, “Stop! It’s the faranchee! Come back—”
I caught up my knapsack as I ran, made a flying leap at the slowly receding211 barge, and landed on all fours under the feet of a troop of horses.
The Arab who stood grinning at me as I picked myself up was evidently the only man on the craft who had witnessed my hurried embarkation212. He was dressed in native garb213, save for a tightly buttoned khaki jacket. His legs were bare, his feet thrust into low, red slippers. About his head was wound an ample turban of red and white checks, on either cheek were the scars of three long parallel gashes214, and in the top of his right ear hung a large silver ring.
The Egyptian fellah dwells in a hut of reeds and mud
231The scars and ring announced him a Nubian; the jacket, a corporal of cavalry215; the bridle216 in his hand, custodian217 of the horses; and any blockhead must have known that he answered to the name of Maghmoód. We became boon218 companions, Maghmoód and I, before the journey ended. By night we shared the same blanket; by day he would have divided the contents of his saddlebags with me, had not the black men who trooped down to each landing with baskets of native food made that sacrifice unnecessary. He spun219 tales of his campaigns with Kitchener in a clear-cut Arabic that even a faranchee must have understood, and, save for the five periods each day when he stood barefooted at his prayers, was as pleasant a companion as any denizen220 of the western world could have been.
When morning broke I climbed a rickety ladder to the upper deck. It was so densely packed from rail to rail with huddled Arabs that a poodle could not have found room to sit on his haunches. I mounted still higher and came out upon the roof of the barge, an uncumbered promenade221 from which I could survey the vast panorama222 of the Nile.
Its banks were barren, now. The fertile strips of green, fed by the shaduf and the sakka, had been left behind with the land of Egypt. Except for a few tiny oases223, the aggressive desert had pushed its way to the very water’s edge, here sloping down in beaches of softest sand, there falling sheer into the stream in rugged224, verdureless cliffs. Yet somewhere in this yellow wilderness225 a hardy226 people found sustenance227. Now and then a peasant waved a hand or a tattered228 flag from the shore, and the steamer ran her nose high up on the beach to pick up the bale of produce he had rolled down the slope. With every landing a group of tawny229 barbarians230 sprang up from a sandy nowhere to slash231 from the gorgeous sunlight fantastic shadows as black as their own leathery skins.
On the level with my promenade deck was that of the first-class passengers. There were no English-speaking travelers among them. Half the party were priests of the Eastern Church, phlegmatic232, robust233 men in long black gowns and a headdress like an inverted234 “stovepipe,” beneath which a tangled235 thicket236 of hair and beard left barely more than nose and eyes visible. The laymen237, evidently, were of the same faith. They took part in the religious services, and their speech was redundant238 with the softened S of modern Greek.
Maghmoód, perhaps, betrayed my confidences. At any rate, the 232oily-skinned Armenian who accosted239 me from the steamer in execrable French knew more of my affairs than I had told to anyone but the cavalryman240.
“My friends have been wondering,” he began, abruptly241, “how you will find work in the Soudan if you have not money enough to go to Khartum, where the work is? We are all going to Khartum. The venerable patriarch there, with the longest beard, is the head of our church in Africa, going there to look after the Greeks. You should come too.”
Several times during the afternoon, he returned to ply17 me with questions. As we halted before the cliff-hewn temple of Abu Simbel, I descended to the lower deck to pose Maghmoód for a picture. He had just called up Mecca, however, and before he deigned242 to notice my existence, a voice sounded above me:—“Faranchee, taala hena.” I looked up to see the servant of the Armenian beckoning243 to me from the upper deck.
“All the cabin passengers have been saying,” maundered the master, when I reached the roof of the barge, “that you must get to Khartum. We were about to take up a collection to buy you a ticket when the venerable patriarch showed us a better plan. He is in need of a servant who can write English and French. Of course, he is very rich, like all the head patriarchs, and he will, perhaps, pay you much. If he does not need you when he gets to Khartum, there is plenty of work there. Come with me to the cabin.”
The “venerable patriarch” spoke only his native tongue. One of his attendant priests, however, was well versed244 in Italian, and through him his chief dictated245 a letter to the English mudir of Wady Halfa, and a second to the French consul at Assiut. Neither epistle contained matter of international importance. I half suspected that my employment was little more than charity in disguise; yet the Greek assured me that my services were indispensable. Who knows? But for the force of circumstances, I might still be gracing the suite246 of the patriarch of Africa.
We tied up at Wady Halfa after nightfall. The first man to cross the gang plank50 was an English officer bearing an order forbidding any one to land. A telegram from Assuan announced the outbreak of the plague, and the steamer was to be held in quarantine.
A loud-voiced protest rose from the Greeks. The train to Khartum was to depart soon, and the service is not hourly in the Soudan. A swift correspondence took place between the steamer and the mudiria. 233The priests were permitted to disembark. The laymen revolted against such discrimination and were soon released. Within a half-hour, the second-class passengers followed after them; and, with no man of influence left on board, the steamer slipped her moorings and tied up in the middle of the river at the foot of the second cataract.
We were landed early next morning and the Armenian, in company with three Greek residents, met me at the top of the bank.
“The patriarch has made this man your guardian,” he explained, pointing to one of his companions. “He is keeper of the Hotel Tewfekieh. He has your third-class ticket to Khartum, and you will live with him until you leave.”
It was then Thursday morning. The next train was scheduled to leave on Saturday night. In two days I had more than exhausted the sights of Wady Halfa, and time hung heavily on my hands. Until my meeting with the Greeks, I had never dreamed of proceeding247 beyond the second cataract. The sun-baked city of Omdurman teemed248 with interest, perhaps; but a sweltering two-day journey across the desert was no pleasant anticipation249. Moreover, half my allotted250 time had already passed, and my trip around the globe was by no means half completed. Unfortunately, my worldly wealth, if it was my own, was tied up in a bit of cardboard in the possession of my host. It was a small fortune, too, more than ten dollars. Had I been the possessor of half that amount, I should have turned back to Port Sa?d forthwith. The good patriarch, certainly, would shed no tears of regret if I failed to appear before him on Tuesday morning. My “guardian,” too, always spoke of the ticket as my property, and would, no doubt, relinquish251 it if I could offer a reasonable excuse for turning back. But I could not, and who should say that the railway company would refund252 the money if I could.
I had, therefore, resolved to carry out the plan as first proposed, when, one afternoon, a native soldier broke in on my musing253 and summoned me to the office of the commissioner254 of customs.
“I hear you’re going to Khartum,” said that official. “You know you must have a pass from the mudir. Thought I’d tell you so you wouldn’t get held up at the last moment. The mudiria is closed now, but as soon as it opens, you can get a pass all right.”
“Hope not,” I muttered, as I turned away.
The next morning a servant in a turban of daring color-scheme ushered255 me into the office of Governor Parsons, Pasha, raised his palms to his forehead, and withdrew. The mudir was a slight, yet 234sturdy Englishman of that frank, energetic type which the British government seems singularly fortunate in choosing as rulers of her dependencies abroad. My application for a pass awakened within him no suspicion of my real desire. He jotted256 down my answers on the official blank before him as if this granting of permission to ragged adventurers to enter a territory so lately pacified257 were but a part of his daily routine.
“Name? Birthplace? Nationality? Age? Profession?” He read the questions in a dispassionate voice that quickly dispelled258 my hope of having the official ban raised against me. “Purpose in going to Khartum? Probable length of stay?”
Oh, well, it did not matter. There would be a satisfaction in having penetrated259 so far into Africa, and I could trust to fortune to bring me down again.
“I see no reason to refuse you a passport,” said the mudir, in his deliberate, clear-cut enunciation260. “By the way, one other question which the law requires me to ask. Of course you have sufficient means to support yourself in Khartum, or to pay your way down again?”
“I’ve got three piastres,” I answered, striving to conceal261 the joy within me.
“What! No more?”
He turned the paper meditatively262 in his fingers.
“As a rule, we do not grant passports to those who may by any chance find themselves unprovided for. It is a precaution necessary for the protection of the individual, for Khartum is a far-call from civilization. But then, I am not going to keep you back if you wish to go. I have an infinite faith, justified263 by years of observation, in the ability of a sailor, especially a young chap, to take care of himself.” He pressed his official seal on a red pad and examined it intently. Fate, evidently, was bent37 on sending me to Khartum. I resolved to take a more active hand in the game.
“Well, a couple of chaps I was talkin’ with in Wady give the place a tough name, too, sir,” I began. “You see, I didn’t know that when I was down below, and since then I’ve been thinkin’, sir, that it would be a bad port to get on the beach in.”
“And these Greeks, are you certain they will employ you? Did they give their address?”
“They didn’t give no address, sir, only said they was goin’ to Khartum. I was thinkin’ it would be better to get down to Port Sa?d and ship out, instead of goin’ up. But the ticket’s already bought, sir, an’—”
Arab passengers on the Nile steamer. Except for their prayers, they scarcely move once a day
The Greek patriarch whose secretary I became—temporarily
235“Oh,” smiled the mudir, “that will offer no difficulty. It is a government railway and I can give you a note to the A. T. M., requesting him to refund you the price of the ticket. On the whole, after what you have said, I think I had better refuse you a pass.”
He tore up the blank slowly and, pulling out an official pad, wrote an order to the railway official. I tucked it in my pocket and returned to the hotel.
“What’s the matter?” cried the Armenian, as I sat down with sorrowful face in a corner of the pool room.
“The mudir has refused me a pass to Khartum,” I sighed.
“Refused you a pass?” echoed the Armenian, turning to the Greeks that had gathered around us.
Cries of sympathy sounded on all sides.
“Never mind,” purred the interpreter, patting me on the shoulder, “Khartum isn’t much and the patriarch will get along somehow without you.”
“Yes, but there’s no work here to earn my fare down the river.”
The remark precipitated264 a long debate. At last, the interpreter turned to me with a smiling face.
“We have it!” he cried. “As the mudir has refused you permission, perhaps he will refund you the price of the ticket if you go and ask him? That will be enough—”
“But the ticket isn’t mine,” I protested.
“Not yours?” cried the Armenian, “what nonsense! Of course it’s yours. Whose else is it? The patriarch didn’t pay you anything else for your work! Certainly, it’s your ticket.”
He took it from the sad-eyed hotel keeper and thrust it into my hand. “Now run over to the mudiria and ask the governor if he can’t fix it so you can get the money back.”
I ran—past the mudir’s office and into that of the traffic manager. He was a young Englishman of the type of those who, according to Pia, “have nothing much to do with their money.”
“Do you think,” he asked, as he handed me the price of the ticket, “that two quid will carry you down to Port Sa?d?”
“Sure,” I replied.
“I’m afraid it won’t,” he went on; “better have another quid.”
He thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out a handful of gold.
“No, I’m fixed265 all right,” I protested.
236“Go ahead, man; take it,” he insisted, holding out a sovereign. “Many a one I’ve had shoved on me when I was down and out.”
“No, I’m all right,” I repeated.
“Well, here,” said the manager; “I’m going to make you out a check on my bank in Cairo for a couple of quid. I think you’ll need it. If you don’t, chuck it in the canal and no harm done. We chaps never want to see a man on the rocks, you know.”
He filled out the check as he talked, and, in spite of my protest, tucked it into one of my pockets. I acknowledged my thanks; but months afterward266 I scattered the pieces of that bit of paper on the highway of another clime.
Late that night I departed from Wady Halfa, reaching Assuan on Monday morning. On the following day I boarded the steamer Cleopatra, of the Cook Line, as a deck passenger, and drifted lazily down the Nile for five days, landing here and there with the tourists of the upper deck to visit a temple or a mud village. At the Asile Rudolph, Cap Stevenson welcomed me with open arms, but “the union” was wrapped in mourning. Pia, the erudite, had departed, no man knew when nor whither. The end of the Cairo season was at hand. All its social favorites were turning their faces towards other lands. I called on the superintendent of railways to remind him of his promise, and, armed with a pass to Port Sa?d, bade the capital farewell.
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1
consul
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| n.领事；执政官 | |
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nil
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| n.无，全无，零 | |
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affluence
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| n.充裕，富足 | |
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systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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linguistic
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| adj.语言的，语言学的 | |
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lore
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| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
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romping
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| adj.嬉戏喧闹的，乱蹦乱闹的v.嬉笑玩闹( romp的现在分词 )；（尤指在赛跑或竞选等中）轻易获胜 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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emaciated
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| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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bolstered
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| v.支持( bolster的过去式和过去分词 )；支撑；给予必要的支持；援助 | |
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croaks
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的第三人称单数 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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ply
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| v.(搬运工等)等候顾客，弯曲 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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gleaned
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| v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的过去式和过去分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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touching
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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irrigating
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| 灌溉( irrigate的现在分词 )； 冲洗（伤口） | |
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paradigms
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| n.（一词的）词形变化表( paradigm的名词复数 )；范例；样式；模范 | |
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blatant
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| adj.厚颜无耻的；显眼的；炫耀的 | |
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cane
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arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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siesta
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bent
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anthem
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| n.圣歌，赞美诗，颂歌 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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45
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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46
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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47
inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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48
rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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49
groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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50
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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51
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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52
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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53
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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54
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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55
uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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56
plebeian
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| adj.粗俗的；平民的；n.平民；庶民 | |
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57
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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58
densely
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| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
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59
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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60
cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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61
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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62
fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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63
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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64
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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66
wading
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的现在分词 ) | |
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67
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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68
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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69
congestion
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| n.阻塞，消化不良 | |
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70
junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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71
extricate
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| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
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72
chattels
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| n.动产，奴隶( chattel的名词复数 ) | |
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73
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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74
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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75
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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76
canes
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|
| n.（某些植物，如竹或甘蔗的）茎( cane的名词复数 )；（用于制作家具等的）竹竿；竹杖 | |
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77
fodder
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| n.草料；炮灰 | |
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78
bin
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|
| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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79
pulp
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|
| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
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80
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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81
festive
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|
| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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82
predecessors
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| n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 )；前辈；（被取代的）原有事物；前身 | |
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83
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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84
industriously
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85
canvass
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| v.招徕顾客，兜售；游说；详细检查，讨论 | |
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86
metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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87
ailment
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|
| n.疾病，小病 | |
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88
disconsolately
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|
| adv.悲伤地，愁闷地；哭丧着脸 | |
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89
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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90
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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91
aged
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|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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92
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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93
consulate
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| n.领事馆 | |
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94
labors
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|
| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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95
authoritative
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|
| adj.有权威的，可相信的；命令式的；官方的 | |
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96
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97
halfway
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|
| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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98
blandly
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|
| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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99
costly
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|
| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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100
excavating
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| v.挖掘( excavate的现在分词 )；开凿；挖出；发掘 | |
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101
barrage
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| n.火力网，弹幕 | |
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102
refineries
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| 精炼厂( refinery的名词复数 ) | |
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103
belched
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|
| v.打嗝( belch的过去式和过去分词 )；喷出，吐出；打（嗝）；嗳（气） | |
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104
urchins
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| n.顽童( urchin的名词复数 )；淘气鬼；猬；海胆 | |
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105
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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106
penetrating
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|
| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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107
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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108
tepid
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|
| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
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109
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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110
densest
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| 密集的( dense的最高级 )； 密度大的； 愚笨的； （信息量大得）难理解的 | |
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111
squats
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|
| n.蹲坐，蹲姿( squat的名词复数 )；被擅自占用的建筑物v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的第三人称单数 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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112
shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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113
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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114
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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115
screeching
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的现在分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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116
screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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117
sleek
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|
| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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118
excavation
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| n.挖掘，发掘；被挖掘之地 | |
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119
excavations
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| n.挖掘( excavation的名词复数 )；开凿；开凿的洞穴（或山路等）；（发掘出来的）古迹 | |
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120
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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121
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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123
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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124
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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125
shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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126
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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127
attired
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|
| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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128
hieroglyphics
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| n.pl.象形文字 | |
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129
antiquities
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| n.古老( antiquity的名词复数 )；古迹；古人们；古代的风俗习惯 | |
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130
fending
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| v.独立生活，照料自己( fend的现在分词 )；挡开，避开 | |
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131
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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132
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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133
lengthen
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| vt.使伸长，延长 | |
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134
dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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135
bleating
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| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的现在分词 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
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136
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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137
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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138
ooze
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| n.软泥，渗出物；vi.渗出，泄漏；vt.慢慢渗出，流露 | |
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139
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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140
perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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141
trampled
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|
| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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142
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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143
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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144
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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145
horde
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| n.群众，一大群 | |
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146
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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147
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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148
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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149
anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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150
mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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151
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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152
folders
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| n.文件夹( folder的名词复数 )；纸夹；（某些计算机系统中的）文件夹；页面叠 | |
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153
nomads
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| n.游牧部落的一员( nomad的名词复数 )；流浪者；游牧生活；流浪生活 | |
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154
bazaars
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| （东方国家的）市场( bazaar的名词复数 )； 义卖； 义卖市场； （出售花哨商品等的）小商品市场 | |
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155
embarking
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| 乘船( embark的现在分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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156
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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157
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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158
whack
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| v.敲击，重打，瓜分；n.重击，重打，尝试，一份 | |
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159
swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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160
facetiousness
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| n.滑稽 | |
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161
prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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162
canard
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| n.虚报；谣言；v.流传 | |
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163
virulence
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| n.毒力，毒性；病毒性；致病力 | |
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164
diaphanous
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| adj.(布)精致的，半透明的 | |
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165
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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166
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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167
belabored
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| v.毒打一顿( belabor的过去式和过去分词 )；责骂；就…作过度的说明；向…唠叨 | |
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168
outstripped
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| v.做得比…更好，（在赛跑等中）超过( outstrip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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169
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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170
guardians
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| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
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171
cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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172
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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173
jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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174
gorges
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| n.山峡，峡谷( gorge的名词复数 )；咽喉v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的第三人称单数 )；作呕 | |
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175
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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176
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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177
rabble
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| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
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178
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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179
orientated
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| v.朝向( orientate的过去式和过去分词 )；面向；确定方向；使适应 | |
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180
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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181
vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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182
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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183
jaded
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| adj.精疲力竭的；厌倦的；（因过饱或过多而）腻烦的；迟钝的 | |
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184
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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185
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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186
cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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187
bawling
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的现在分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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188
minaret
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| n.（回教寺院的）尖塔 | |
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189
plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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190
impoverished
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| adj.穷困的，无力的，用尽了的v.使（某人）贫穷( impoverish的过去式和过去分词 )；使（某物）贫瘠或恶化 | |
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191
shanties
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| n.简陋的小木屋( shanty的名词复数 )；铁皮棚屋；船工号子；船歌 | |
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192
transpired
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| （事实，秘密等）被人知道( transpire的过去式和过去分词 )； 泄露； 显露； 发生 | |
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193
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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194
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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195
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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196
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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197
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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198
outstripping
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| v.做得比…更好，（在赛跑等中）超过( outstrip的现在分词 ) | |
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199
weaver
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| n.织布工；编织者 | |
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200
barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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201
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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202
query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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203
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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204
grill
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| n.烤架，铁格子，烤肉；v.烧，烤，严加盘问 | |
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205
squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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206
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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207
bawled
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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208
pranced
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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209
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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210
uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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211
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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212
embarkation
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| n. 乘船, 搭机, 开船 | |
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213
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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214
gashes
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| n.深长的切口（或伤口）( gash的名词复数 )v.划伤，割破( gash的第三人称单数 ) | |
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215
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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216
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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217
custodian
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| n.保管人，监护人；公共建筑看守 | |
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218
boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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219
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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220
denizen
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| n.居民，外籍居民 | |
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221
promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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222
panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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223
oases
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| n.（沙漠中的）绿洲( oasis的名词复数 )；（困苦中）令人快慰的地方（或时刻）；乐土；乐事 | |
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224
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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225
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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226
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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227
sustenance
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| n.食物，粮食；生活资料；生计 | |
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228
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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229
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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230
barbarians
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| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
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231
slash
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| vi.大幅度削减；vt.猛砍，尖锐抨击，大幅减少；n.猛砍，斜线，长切口，衣衩 | |
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232
phlegmatic
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| adj.冷静的，冷淡的，冷漠的，无活力的 | |
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233
robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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234
inverted
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| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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235
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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236
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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237
laymen
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| 门外汉，外行人( layman的名词复数 )； 普通教徒（有别于神职人员） | |
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238
redundant
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| adj.多余的，过剩的；(食物)丰富的；被解雇的 | |
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239
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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240
cavalryman
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| 骑兵 | |
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241
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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242
deigned
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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243
beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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244
versed
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| adj. 精通，熟练 | |
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245
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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246
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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247
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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248
teemed
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| v.充满( teem的过去式和过去分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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249
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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250
allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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251
relinquish
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| v.放弃，撤回，让与，放手 | |
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252
refund
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| v.退还，偿还；n.归还，偿还额，退款 | |
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253
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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254
commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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255
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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256
jotted
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| v.匆忙记下( jot的过去式和过去分词 )；草草记下，匆匆记下 | |
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257
pacified
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| 使（某人）安静( pacify的过去式和过去分词 )； 息怒； 抚慰； 在（有战争的地区、国家等）实现和平 | |
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258
dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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259
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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260
enunciation
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| n.清晰的发音；表明，宣言；口齿 | |
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261
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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262
meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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263
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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264
precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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265
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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266
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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