A SUMMER'S DAY IN SUAKIM.
The day ia Suakim, as far as the public is concerned, says the Pall Mall Gazette, may be said to begin at sunrise. Boused by a chorus of crowing from the fowls kept in the ccurt by the Indian contingent and the howling of a muezzin from a neighboring minaret, Jones wearily opens his eyes aud takes mechanically a survey of tbe wing of the building opposite, in which the prisoners were
getting on the move and going forth to their duties of fatigue and scavenging ; Bad to relate a large proportion are English soldiers and sailors. The caravanserai, on the flat roof of
which Jones has wisely fixed his sleeping quarters, to insure the utmost possible air and the least possible stench, is a huge, oblong, three-storey building, with two gates. The causeway leading to the town passes in front of the main gate. Round, pale, raylees, the sun rises from the Red
Sea ; Jones, after a vain struggle for a few moments' more sleep in the cool morning air (it is only 85) with the flies (those plagues of the tropics), drags himself slowly from the bed on which he has parsed some hours of unconsciousness (in a flannel suit and without any covering), and having swallowed several cups of comforting tea, proceeds to look forth on the outer world, and a curious scene it is On the causeway all is bustle. Camels stalk by in strings, or crouch groaning and whining to be loaled. Hadendowas, or Fuzzies (a* they are aptly
called), with frizzy hair and corkscrew curls ; Arabs from Jeddah, in turban, toga and sanda's, like old Romans; Arab ladies, balls of white muslin in yellow or red Wellington boots; groups of chattering Indian or Arab women, in red, blue, or green sane and faces covered ; L d an carts, drawn bj beautiful long-haired cattle ; gaugs "»f convicts, sturdy, bare-legged ruffians in sacking shirt and skull-cap, cumW by puny Egyptian wanders in baggy tunic and drawers aud filthy fez, Rrinington on shoulder, and cartridge-belt at waist. Here a Sikh orderly, with chain mail epaulets and slender, pennon- topped lauce, pus it s his sc-aggy pony through the throng, and there comes our old friend the British Tommy, looking thin and worn in his hidtous baggy khaki and mushrt 0:11 hat, but elbowiug his way along with irrepressible energy addressing every native as Johnny, and prepired tor any emergency. Seven oVlock : Jones is by thia time dres3ed. The sun is now well above the horizon, and pouring forth that flood of clear, bright, intense golden light, that northern skies never know Away towards the southwest, T.»m d, and the d- s rt, a browu haze btgi.s to blot out the hills aud to betoken the coming of the kamsin wind and a terrih" day. Jon* s now proceeds to take ':;s daily header into the strong, buoyant, briae of New House and while dressing watches with interest the endless tribes rf fishes, of all shapes, colours, sizes and shades, as they p ay and feed in the clear, warm water. As he turns the tide of life is at the full in the wretched cluster of filthy booths, or rather dens, which do< s duty for a bazaar in Saukim, in which nothing is offered for sale, Stve, perhaps, a few watermelons or oranges, morsels of fly-blown fiied fieh, or lumps of horrible dates, and other abominations of native manafaeture, but no fruit, vegetables, fish, meat, eggs or milk. By the time Jones has returned and breakfasted the karas-n las developed into a smart scotching breeze, the sun blazes like 9 ball of hot brass through the hazy air, the ground burns the feet through the stoutest boots, shutters are closed, roai and beast fly to cover, the thermometer in the coolest room marks 101 degrees and rising, everything feels hot to the touch, even the backs of the books curl. The British soldier lolls on his bed and uses fearful laiguige; the burly Egyptian " warrior" lounges on sentry over the prisoners in the prison or snores on a heap of stones ; the Parage clerk dozes over his desk in the archway (for coolness); the provost adjudicates on native fo lowers, and occasionally the whistle of cat a id howl -f the offender testify that he " beareth not the sword in vain." Higher and higher r'B s the sun, stronger and s'ronger blows t'-ie wind, up and up g>es ihe thermometer, more and more plaguing grow the
flies. Were any one rash enough to
propose Maliock's question to Jones •' is life worth living for?" the answer would be prompt and to the point. The welcome call to lunch at length causes a diversion. Notes are compared and impressions exchanged as to sensation, height of the thermometer, chance of getting away, number sick, etc. After lunch come those two terrible, sultry; weary hours which some deem the most trying in the day. Jones sleeps, or reads, c works, or what not, till time, like everything else in the world, comes rouud and the welcome 4 : 30 arrives Shutters are now opened, the wind has abated and shitted, the sun is shorn of much of its terror, the thermometer has gone down below 100; some order their ponies for polo or a gallop, some their boats for a sail, some lounge off for a gossip and a B. and S. at Adams' (the general meeting-plae*). The convicts return chatting and laughing from their Work ou board ship. Indian guards move to and fro mounting guard, natives come in on trottiug camels
from the desert, officers in brown boots and mushroom hats trot off to ramp; life reigns once more. But what are those three sharp, rolling reports from the direction of the new cemetery (at intervals) ? Little need to ask; poor Sergeant Brow a went into hospital last night at 11 o'clock —sunstroke ! At 7 p. m the sun sinks in a blaze of crimson and gold in the line of the ill-omened Barber Riilway. Dinner at 7:30; tobacco, whilst B. andS. passthehourstillO : 30, when the exhausted Joues crawls ot to his comfortless couch, but not to sleep. Vain hope ! the wind has gone with the sun aud stagnation of the air ensues. - the slow moon, too, climbs," the | Rhainadau moon, bright as the sun, I and greeted with tomtoms and other sleep-murdering devices by true believers Hour after hour, does Jones roll from side te side, the perspiration streamiug down him, aud listening to the packs ot masterless outside the walls, till at last exhausted ! nature finds relief in a heavy slumber, I and he can thank Gk>d that another I day in the " horrible Soudan'' is over.
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Bibliographic details
Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 1502, 24 October 1885, Page 3
Word Count
1,125A SUMMER'S DAY IN SUAKIM. Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 1502, 24 October 1885, Page 3
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