VI.
MRS. PETERKIN IN EGYPT.
The family had taken passage in the new line for Bordeaux. They supposedthey had; but would they ever reach the vessel in New York? The lastmoments were terrific. In spite of all their careful arrangements, theirplanning and packing of the last year, it seemed, after all, as ifeverything were left for the very last day. There were presents for thefamily to be packed, six steamer-bags for Mrs. Peterkin, half a dozensatchels of salts-bottles for Elizabeth Eliza, Apollinaris water,lunch-baskets. All these must be disposed of.
On the very last day Elizabeth Eliza went into Boston to buy a bird, asshe had been told she would be less likely to be sea-sick if she had abird in a cage in her stateroom. Both she and her mother disliked thesinging of caged birds, especially of canaries; but Mrs. Peterkin arguedthat they would be less likely to be homesick, as they never had birdsat home. After long moments of indecision, Elizabeth Eliza determinedupon two canary-birds, thinking she might let them fly as theyapproached the shore of Portugal, and they would then reach their nativeislands. This matter detained her till the latest train, so that on herreturn from Boston to their quiet suburban home, she found the wholefamily assembled in the station, ready to take the through express trainto New York.
She did not have time, therefore, to go back to the house for her ownthings. It was now locked up and the key intrusted to the Bromwicks; andall the Bromwicks and the rest of the neighbors were at the station,ready to bid them good-by. The family had done their best to collect allher scattered bits of baggage; but all through her travels, afterward,she was continually missing something she had left behind, that shewould have packed and had intended to bring.
They reached New York with half a day on their hands; and during thistime Agamemnon fell in with some old college friends, who were goingwith a party to Greece to look up the new excavations. They were toleave the next day in a steamer for Gibraltar. Agamemnon felt that herewas the place for him, and hastened to consult his family. Perhaps hecould persuade them to change their plans and take passage with theparty for Gibraltar. But he reached the pier just as the steamer forBordeaux was leaving the shore. He was too late, and was left behind!Too late to consult them, too late even to join them! He examined hismap, however,--one of his latest purchases, which he carried in hispocket,--and consoled himself with the fact that on reaching Gibraltarhe could soon communicate with his family at Bordeaux, and he was easilyreconciled to his fate.
It was not till the family landed at Bordeaux that they discovered theabsence of Agamemnon. Every day there had been some of the family unableto come on deck,--sea-sick below. Mrs. Peterkin never left her berth,and constantly sent messages to the others to follow her example, as shewas afraid some one of them would be lost overboard. Those who were ondeck from time to time were always different ones, and the passage wasremarkably quick; while, from the tossing of the ship, as they met roughweather, they were all too miserable to compare notes or count theirnumbers. Elizabeth Eliza especially had been exhausted by the voyage.She had not been many days seasick, but the incessant singing of thebirds had deprived her of sleep. Then the necessity of talking Frenchhad been a great tax upon her. The other passengers were mostly French,and the rest of the family constantly appealed to her to interpret theirwants, and explain them to the _garcon_ once every day at dinner.She felt as if she never wished to speak another word in French; andthe necessity of being interpreter at the hotel at Bordeaux, on theirarrival, seemed almost too much for her. She had even forgotten to lether canary-birds fly when off shore in the Bay of Biscay, and they werestill with her, singing incessantly, as if they were rejoicing over anapproach to their native shores. She thought now she must keep them tilltheir return, which they were already planning.
The little boys, indeed, would like to have gone back on the return tripof the steamer. A son of the steward told them that the return cargoconsisted of dried fruits and raisins; that every stateroom, exceptthose occupied with passengers, would be filled with boxes of raisinsand jars of grapes; that these often broke open in the passage, givinga great opportunity for boys.
But the family held to their Egypt plan, and were cheered by making theacquaintance of an English party. At the _table d'hote_ ElizabethEliza by chance dropped her fork into her neighbor's lap. She apologizedin French; her neighbor answered in the same language, which ElizabethEliza understood so well that she concluded she had at last met with atrue Parisian, and ventured on more conversation, when suddenly theyboth found they were talking in English, and Elizabeth Eliza exclaimed,"I am so glad to meet an American," at the moment that her companion wassaying, "Then you are an Englishwoman!"
From this moment Elizabeth Eliza was at ease, and indeed both partieswere mutually pleased. Elizabeth Eliza's new friend was one of a largeparty, and she was delighted to find that they too were planning awinter in Egypt. They were waiting till a friend should have completedher "cure" at Pau, and the Peterkins were glad also to wait for theappearance of Agamemnon, who might arrive in the next steamer.
One of the little boys was sure he had heard Agamemnon's voice themorning after they left New York, and was certain he must have been onboard the vessel. Mr. Peterkin was not so sure. He now remembered thatAgamemnon had not been at the dinner-table the very first evening; butthen neither Mrs. Peterkin nor Solomon John was able to be present, asthe vessel was tossing in a most uncomfortable manner, and nothing butdinner could have kept the little boys at table. Solomon John knew thatAgamemnon had not been in his own stateroom during the passage, but hehimself had seldom left it, and it had been always planned thatAgamemnon should share that of a fellow-passenger.
However this might be, it would be best to leave Marseilles with theEnglish party by the "P. & O." steamer. This was one of the English"Peninsular and Oriental" line, that left Marseilles for Alexandria,Egypt, and made a return trip directly to Southampton, England. Mr.Peterkin thought it might be advisable to take "go-and-return" tickets,coming back to Southampton; and Mrs. Peterkin liked the idea of nochange of baggage, though she dreaded the longer voyage. Elizabeth Elizaapproved of this return trip in the P. & O. steamer, and decided itwould give a good opportunity to dispose of her canary-birds on herreturn.
The family therefore consoled themselves at Marseilles with the beliefthat Agamemnon would appear somehow. If not, Mr. Peterkin thought hecould telegraph him from Marseilles, if he only knew where to telegraphto. But at Marseilles there was great confusion at the Hotel deNoailles; for the English party met other friends, who persuaded them totake route together by Brindisi. Elizabeth Eliza was anxious to continuewith her new English friend, and Solomon John was delighted with theidea of passing through the whole length of Italy. But the sight of thelong journey, as she saw it on the map in the guide-book, terrified Mrs.Peterkin. And Mr. Peterkin had taken their tickets for the Marseillesline. Elizabeth Eliza still dwelt upon the charm of crossing under theAlps, while this very idea alarmed Mrs. Peterkin.
On the last morning the matter was still undecided. On leaving thehotel, it was necessary for the party to divide and take two omnibuses.Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin reached the steamer at the moment of departure,and suddenly Mrs. Peterkin found they were leaving the shore. As theycrossed the broad gangway to reach the deck, she had not noticed theyhad left the pier; indeed, she had supposed that the steamer was one shesaw out in the offing, and that they would be obliged to take a boat toreach it. She hurried from the group of travellers whom she had followedto find Mr. Peterkin reading from his guide-book to the little boys anexplanation that they were passing the Chateau d'If, from which thecelebrated historical character the Count of Monte Cristo had escaped byflinging himself into the sea.
"Where is Elizabeth Eliza? Where is Solomon John?" Mrs. Peterkinexclaimed, seizing Mr. Peterkin's arm. Where indeed? There was a pileof the hand-baggage of the family, but not that of Elizabeth Eliza, noteven the bird-cage. "It was on the top of the other omnibus," exclaimedMrs. Peterkin. Yes, one of the little boys had seen it on
the pavementof the court-yard of the hotel, and had carried it to the omnibus inwhich Elizabeth Eliza was sitting. He had seen her through the window.
"Where is that other omnibus?" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, looking vaguelyover the deck, as they were fast retreating from the shore. "Asksomebody what became of that other omnibus!" she exclaimed. "Perhapsthey have gone with the English people," suggested Mr. Peterkin; but hewent to the officers of the boat, and attempted to explain in Frenchthat one half of his family had been left behind. He was relieved tofind that the officers could understand his French, though they did nottalk English. They declared, however, it was utterly impossible to turnback. They were already two minutes and a half behind time on account ofwaiting for a party who had been very long in crossing the gangway.
Mr. Peterkin returned gloomily with the little boys to Mrs. Peterkin."We cannot go back," he said, "we must content ourselves with going on;but I conclude we can telegraph from Malta. We can send a message toElizabeth Eliza and Solomon John, telling them that they can take thenext Marseilles P. & O. steamer in ten days, or that they can go backto Southampton for the next boat, which leaves at the end of this week.And Elizabeth Eliza may decide upon this," Mr. Peterkin concluded, "onaccount of passing so near the Canary Isles."
"She will be glad to be rid of the birds," said Mrs. Peterkin, calmingherself.
These anxieties, however, were swallowed up in new trials. Mrs. Peterkinfound that she must share her cabin (she found it was called "cabin,"and not "stateroom," which bothered her and made her feel like RobinsonCrusoe),--her cabin she must share with some strange ladies, while Mr.Peterkin and the little boys were carried to another part of the ship.Mrs. Peterkin remonstrated, delighted to find that her English wasunderstood, though it was not listened to. It was explained to herthat every family was divided in this way, and that she would meet Mr.Peterkin and the little boys at meal-times in the large _salon_--onwhich all the cabins opened--and on deck; and she was obliged to contentherself with this. Whenever they met their time was spent in concoctinga form of telegram to send from Malta. It would be difficult to bring itinto the required number of words, as it would be necessary to suggestthree different plans to Elizabeth Eliza and Solomon John. Besidesthe two they had already discussed, there was to be considered thepossibility of their having joined the English party. But Mrs. Peterkinwas sure they must have gone back first to the Hotel de Noailles, towhich they could address their telegram.
She found, meanwhile, the ladies in her cabin very kind and agreeable.They were mothers returning to India, who had been home to England toleave their children, as they were afraid to expose them longer to theclimate of India. Mrs. Peterkin could have sympathetic talks with themover their family photographs. Mrs. Peterkin's family-book was, alas!in Elizabeth Eliza's hand-bag. It contained the family photographs,from early childhood upward, and was a large volume, representing thechildren at every age.
At Malta, as he supposed, Mr. Peterkin and the little boys landed, inorder to send their telegram. Indeed, all of the gentlemen among thepassengers, and some of the ladies, gladly went on shore to visit thepoints of interest that could be seen in the time allotted. The steamerwas to take in coal, and would not leave till early the next morning.
Mrs. Peterkin did not accompany them. She still had her fears aboutleaving the ship and returning to it, although it had been so quietlyaccomplished at Marseilles.
The party returned late at night, after Mrs. Peterkin had gone to hercabin. The next morning, she found the ship was in motion, but she didnot find Mr. Peterkin and the little boys at the breakfast-table asusual. She was told that the party who went on shore had all been tothe opera, and had returned at a late hour to the steamer, and wouldnaturally be late at breakfast. Mrs. Peterkin went on deck to awaitthem, and look for Malta as it seemed to retreat in the distance. Butthe day passed on, and neither Mr. Peterkin nor either of the littleboys appeared! She tried to calm herself with the thought that they mustneed sleep; but all the rest of the passengers appeared, relating theirdifferent adventures. At last she sent the steward to inquire for them.He came back with one of the officers of the boat, much disturbed, tosay that they could not be found; they must have been left behind. Therewas great excitement, and deep interest expressed for Mrs. Peterkin. Oneof the officers was very surly, and declared he could not be responsiblefor the inanity of passengers. Another was more courteous. Mrs. Peterkinasked if they could not go back,--if, at least, she could not be putback. He explained how this would be impossible, but that the companywould telegraph when they reached Alexandria.
Mrs. Peterkin calmed herself as well as she could, though indeed she wasbewildered by her position. She was to land in Alexandria alone, and thelanding she was told would be especially difficult. The steamer wouldnot be able to approach the shore; the passengers would go down thesides of the ship, and be lifted off the steps, by Arabs, into a felucca(whatever that was) below. She shuddered at the prospect. It was darkerthan her gloomiest fancies had pictured. Would it not be better toremain in the ship, go back to Southampton, perhaps meet Elizabeth Elizathere, picking up Mr. Peterkin at Malta on the way? But at this momentshe discovered that she was not on a "P. & O." steamer,--it was a Frenchsteamer of the "Messagerie" line; they had stopped at Messina, and notat Malta. She could not go back to Southampton, so she was told by anEnglish colonel on his way to India. He indeed was very courteous, andadvised her to "go to an hotel" at Alexandria with some of the ladies,and send her telegrams from there. To whom, however, would she wish tosend a telegram?
"Who is Mr. Peterkin's banker?" asked the Colonel. Alas! Mrs. Peterkindid not know. He had at first selected a banker in London, but hadafterward changed his mind and talked of a banker in Paris; and she wasnot sure what was his final decision. She had known the name of theLondon banker, but had forgotten it, because she had written it down,and she never did remember the things she wrote down in her book. Thatwas her old memorandum-book, and she had left it at home because she hadbrought a new one for her travels. She was sorry now she had not keptthe old book. This, however, was not of so much importance, as it didnot contain the name of the Paris banker; and this she had never heard."Elizabeth Eliza would know;" but how could she reach Elizabeth Eliza?
Some one asked if there were not some friend in America to whom shecould appeal, if she did not object to using the ocean telegraph.
"There is a friend in America," said Mrs. Peterkin, "to whom we all ofus do go for advice, and who always does help us. She lives inPhiladelphia."
"Why not telegraph to her for advice?" asked her friends.
Mrs. Peterkin gladly agreed that it would be the best plan. The expenseof the cablegram would be nothing in comparison with the assistance theanswer would bring.
Her new friends then invited her to accompany them to their hotelin Alexandria, from which she could send her despatch. The thoughtof thus being able to reach her hand across the sea to the lady fromPhiladelphia gave Mrs. Peterkin fresh courage,--courage even to make thelanding. As she descended the side of the ship and was guided down thesteps, she closed her eyes that she might not see herself lifted intothe many-oared boat by the wild-looking Arabs, of whom she had caughta glimpse from above. But she could not close her ears; and as theyapproached the shore, strange sounds almost deafened her. She closed hereyes again, as she was lifted from the boat and heard the wild yells andshrieks around her. There was a clashing of brass, a jingling of bells,and the screams grew more and more terrific. If she did open her eyes,she saw wild figures gesticulating, dark faces, gay costumes, crowds ofmen and boys, donkeys, horses, even camels, in the distance. She closedher eyes once more as she was again lifted. Should she now find herselfon the back of one of those high camels? Perhaps for this she came toEgypt. But when she looked round again, she found she was leaning backin a comfortable open carriage, with a bottle of salts at her nose. Shewas in the midst of a strange whirl of excitement; but all the partywere bewildered, and she had scarcely recovered her composure when t
heyreached the hotel.
Here a comfortable meal and rest somewhat restored them. By the next daya messenger from the boat brought her the return telegram from Messina.Mr. Peterkin and family, left behind by the "Messagerie" steamer, hadembarked the next day by steamer, probably for Naples.
More anxious than ever was Mrs. Peterkin to send her despatch. It wastoo late the day of their arrival; but at an early hour next day it wassent, and after a day had elapsed, the answer came:--
"All meet at the Sphinx."
Everything now seemed plain. The words were few but clear. Her Englishfriends were going directly to Cairo, and she accompanied them.
After reaching Cairo, the whole party were obliged to rest awhile. Theywould indeed go with Mrs. Peterkin on her first visit to the Sphinx, asto see the Sphinx and ascend the pyramid formed part of their programme.But many delays occurred to detain them, and Mrs. Peterkin had resolvedto carry out completely the advice of the telegram. She would sit everyday before the Sphinx. She found that as yet there was no hotel exactlyin front of the Sphinx, nor indeed on that side of the river, and shewould be obliged to make the excursion of nine miles there and ninemiles back, each day. But there would always be a party of travellerswhom she could accompany. Each day she grew more and more accustomed tothe bewildering sights and sounds about her, and more and more willingto intrust herself to the dark-colored guides. At last, chafing at somany delays, she decided to make the expedition without her new friends.She had made some experiments in riding upon a donkey, and found she wasseldom thrown, and could not be hurt by the slight fall.
And so, one day, Mrs. Peterkin sat alone in front of the Sphinx,--alone,as far as her own family and friends were concerned, and yet not aloneindeed. A large crowd of guides sat around this strange lady whoproposed to spend the day in front of the Sphinx. Clad in long whiterobes, with white turbans crowning their dark faces, they gazed into hereyes with something of the questioning expression with which she herselfwas looking into the eyes of the Sphinx.
There were other travellers wandering about. Just now her own party hadcollected to eat their lunch together; but they were scattered again,and she sat with a circle of Arabs about her, the watchful dragomanlingering near.
Somehow the Eastern languor must have stolen upon her, or she could nothave sat so calmly, not knowing where a single member of her family wasat that moment. And she had dreaded Egypt so; had feared separation; hadeven been a little afraid of the Sphinx, upon which she was now lookingas at a protecting angel. But they all were to meet at the Sphinx!
If only she could have seen where the different members of the familywere at that moment, she could not have sat so quietly. She little knewthat a tall form, not far away (following some guides down into thelower halls of a lately excavated temple), with a blue veil wrappedabout a face shielded with smoke-colored spectacles, was that ofElizabeth Eliza herself, from whom she had been separated two weeksbefore.
She little knew that at this moment Solomon John was standing lookingover the edge of the Matterhorn, wishing he had not come up so high. Butsuch a gay young party had set off that morning from the hotel that hehad supposed it an easy thing to join them; and now he would fain goback, but was tied to the rest of his party with their guide precedingthem, and he must keep on and crawl up behind them, still farther, onhands and knees.
Agamemnon was at Mycenae, looking down into an open pit.
Two of the little boys were roasting eggs in the crater of MountVesuvius.
And she would have seen Mr. Peterkin comfortably reclining in a gondola,with one of the little boys, in front of the palaces of Venice.
But none of this she saw; she only looked into the eyes of the Sphinx.