"I don't know whether I can walk as far as the stewardess's cabin, Lady Eldridge," I said, "but I will try. It is terribly rough."
"Oh, nonsense," she said. "Hold on by the wall, and you will be all right. You don't mean to say you are seasick, Miss Lindsay? You ought to get over it. I never believe in seasickness. If people only try, they can keep it off. I feel as well at sea as on land."
I could not help thinking that, this being the case, she might have gone for the stewardess herself instead of insisting that I should go for her. However, I did my best, and managed to stagger down the saloon, though I fell several times, and cut my hand on a broken plate which was being swept across the floor, backwards and forwards, as the vessel rolled from side to side.
I found the stewardess lying on the bed in her cabin, crying. She told me that she was a widow with three little children whom she had left in England. She had been persuaded to try this way of earning her living, and this was her first voyage. She said she did not think she could ever go to sea again, for she had no idea that it would be so dreadful. She told me this as she was getting out the sheets for Lady Eldridge's bed, and she said that, as I came in, she was crying because she was thinking of her little children who might soon be without a mother.
I tried to say a word to comfort her, but the noise of the storm was so great that we could hardly hear each other speak. It was some time before she had collected everything that was necessary, and Lady Eldridge was impatient and cross when we arrived at her cabin. I helped the stewardess arrange the bed, and went back to my own berth, thankful to be able to lie still again.
Morning came, but the storm continued. It raged all Tuesday, all Tuesday night, and all Wednesday, and we were not able to leave our cabin the whole time. Only on Wednesday did the storm begin to abate, and we were able at last to have a quiet sleep. We awoke on Thursday to find the wind gone and the sea much calmer. We were to arrive at Alexandria in the afternoon, and everyone seemed glad that the stormy voyage was drawing to a close.
Lady Eldridge was annoyed when she found that we were not going with her to Cairo. She told Sir William that it was simply madness on his part to take a delicate girl like Evelyn to Jerusalem. But Sir William only smiled, and said it was Evelyn's wish as well as his own.
I had a talk with the stewardess that morning, and I was so glad to find that she knew where to turn for comfort and for help. She was a real Christian, and in simple faith she had trusted her children to God's care. She now felt sure that He would watch over them until she was able to be with them again. She had left them with her brother and his wife, and her thoughts seemed to be constantly with her little absent treasures. I was so glad that I had spoken to her, for she thanked me and told me that the few words I had said to her in the storm had been a great comfort to her, and had made her ashamed of herself for being afraid.
At length we arrived at Alexandria and enjoyed the sight which met our eyes -- the intensely white city, the blue water in the harbour, and the pilot with a dark hood over his head arriving in his little boat and coming on board the steamer. He was followed by countless other boats, filled with clamorous Arabs who were contending with one another to secure the largest number of passengers to row to shore. It was curious to watch them almost fighting each other while looking so picturesque in their various costumes.
After much pushing and quarrelling and scuffling and shouting had been gone through, we found ourselves in the same boat with Mr. Stanley. He had taken us all, Lady Eldridge included, under his care and had bargained on our behalf in Arabic, and made, after much difficulty, a fair agreement with the boatman as to the price he would charge for his boat.
"We stayed one night in Alexandria at the hotel, but did not see much of the city for we were too tired from the voyage to go out. We were glad to rest quietly until it was time to go on board the ship which was to take us to Jaffa, and which started early the next day. We left Lady Eldridge in the hotel, and were not sorry to say goodbye to her.
It was a small old-fashioned vessel which was to take us the rest of the way, very dirty and forlorn, and very different from the comfortable steamer of the Peninsular and Oriental Company which we had just left. But the sea was calm, so we felt we could thankfully bear any amount of discomfort.
We were the only first-class passengers on board, but a large party of travellers was to join us at Port Said, and they had already engaged their cabins.
We stayed on deck until late that evening, walking up and down, looking at the sun setting over the sea, and talking of all that was before us. Sir William had numberless questions to ask about Jerusalem, and Mr. Stanley was well able to answer them all, for only two years earlier he had spent a whole winter in Jerusalem to sketch some of the many places of interest in the city and its neighbourhood. He promised, at Sir William's request, to let us see his sketches some day.
Chapter Thirteen
EARLY on Saturday morning we arrived at Port Said, and Sir William proposed that we should go on shore and escape from our uncomfortable quarters in the dirty little steamer.
We had no difficulty in obtaining a boat rowed by Arabs, but immediately we touched land we were marched off to the Custom House so that our passports could be examined. Sir William had been told in London that passports were not necessary for British travellers, so we had not provided ourselves with any. He was rather at a loss what to do. However, Mr. Stanley came to the rescue, and after he had harangued the Turkish officers in Arabic, and had given them a suitable amount of baksheesh, we were politely bowed out of the office and allowed to enter the town. Here Mr. Stanley left us, and we found our way to the one hotel of the place where we had breakfast amidst a crowd of English and American travellers who we found were to be our companions into Syria.
The hotel was uncomfortably small and noisy, so after breakfast we took a walk to discover what was to be seen in Port Said.
It was such a curious town. It looked as if it had sprung up in a single night like a mushroom. Nearly all the houses were made of wood, and looked like large booths put up hastily for a pleasure fair, to be taken down again as soon as the fair was over.
The streets -- or rather the empty spaces between the rows of houses, for they did not deserve the name of streets -- were covered with orange-peel, oyster shells, dead dogs and cats, decaying vegetables, and all manner of filth. The whole place looked, Sir William said, like pictures he had seen of the wooden towns set up near the gold-diggings in America.
We met people of almost every nationality in the streets of Port Said. Many of them were unprepossessing in appearance, and we were told that a number of the worst men of all nations found their way there, for they knew that there was little law or order in the town, and that they would therefore be free from observation and allowed to do as they liked.
The week before we arrived at Port Said there had been a great many murders there. We saw a notice in the hotel advising Europeans not to go out after dark, as the authorities would not answer for the consequences if they did so. An open square in front of the hotel had been turned into a garden. There were not many flowers in it, but there were a few trees and shrubs, and a small stone fountain in the centre. There was a seat in this garden, and Sir William, Evelyn and I sat here for some time watching the tourists coming in and out of the hotel, consulting their guidebooks, asking countless questions of their interpreter and guide, and apparently impatient to be once more on the move.
There were several French shops in a block of buildings which formed one side of the square. Evelyn caught sight of these and asked me if I thought she would be able to buy one or two little things which she was anxious to get before going to Jerusalem, where she was convinced we would find no shops at all.
"Go and see, my dear," said Sir William, "and I will wait here until you come back. I shall be close by if you want me for anything, and I can see which shops you are in as I sit here."
So Evelyn and I opened the gate of the hotel garden and c
rossed the road to the shops. They were curious shops. A great variety of articles seemed to be sold in them: all kinds of French goods, fancy articles of every description, and a few useful things such as travelling bags, knapsacks, sunshades, and hats with wide brims to provide protection from the sun.
We selected the shop which appeared most likely to contain all we wished to buy. Evelyn went in first, and I followed her. The shop keeper was at the other end of the shop attending to some customers, and Evelyn and I examined the articles which were exposed for sale until he was ready to serve us. Then he came up to us, and asked in French what we wanted. Evelyn looked up from the box of ornaments over which she was bending, and was about to answer him when I saw her suddenly start back in astonishment.
I looked up to see what had taken her so much by surprise, and I saw in a moment that the young man in the shop was no French tradesman, as we had taken him to be. He was her cousin, Donald Trafford. Evelyn had not looked at him when we first came into the shop, but as soon as their eyes met she recognized him in spite of his foreign dress and appearance, and he at the same moment recognized her.
Before we had time to recover from our surprise he disappeared through a door into an inner room, and sent a young Frenchwoman to wait on us.
"Oh, May," Evelyn whispered, "never mind about the things. Let's go back to papa."
I made some excuse to the French girl, telling her that we could not wait longer, and we left the shop at once. But when we were outside, Evelyn turned so white and faint that I did not know how to get her back to the garden. I made signs to Sir William to come, but he was reading the newspaper and did not look up. I did not like to leave Evelyn alone while I went to call him.
At this moment, to my great joy, Mr. Stanley came up. Seeing how ill Evelyn looked, he at once offered her his arm and walked with her back to her father.
As I followed them into the hotel garden I could not help contrasting Mr. Stanley's open face with that of Donald Trafford, who had by no means improved in appearance since I saw him last. I wondered whether Evelyn was struck by the difference. I almost thought that she was, for she thanked Mr. Stanley pleasantly for his kind help, and explained that she had suddenly turned faint when she was in the shop, but said she would feel better in a few moments.
Sir William was alarmed when he saw his daughter come up to him looking as pale as death and leaning on Mr. Stanley's arm. But she tried to laugh him out of his fears, and told him that she was rather tired and it was nothing of consequence. Mr. Stanley, however, hurried up to the hotel to get a glass of water, and as soon as he was gone Evelyn burst into tears.
"What is the matter, my darling?" said Sir William, in a distressed voice. "I am afraid the journey has been too much for you. Perhaps I was foolish not to follow Lady Eldridge's advice and go on with her to Cairo. You are not strong enough to rough it yet. I almost think we had better turn back."
"Oh no, papa, it is not that," said Evelyn. "It is not that at all. Tell him, May, what it was."
"Evelyn had a great surprise when she went into that shop, Sir William," I said. "There, dressed like a foreigner, and selling behind the counter, was her cousin, Mr. Trafford."
"Donald?" said Sir William, jumping from his seat. "Donald in that shop? Surely not! Surely you must have been mistaken. I cannot think that he would dare to come to a place like Port Said where so many English people are continually passing through. Oh no, Evelyn, child, you must be wrong."
"No, Sir William," I said, "we certainly saw Mr. Trafford. I am absolutely sure we were not mistaken."
At this moment Mr. Stanley returned, and we could not talk any more about it. But Sir William seemed lost in thought, and did not enter into the conversation which Evelyn and I tried to keep up.
"Miss Lindsay" he said, at last, "would you show me in which of those shops you were looking just now? Evelyn dear, you sit still here until we come back. Mr. Stanley, may I leave my daughter in your care for a few minutes?"
I thought Mr. Stanley was not sorry to be left in charge; but Evelyn had turned as pale as she was before, and was trembling from head to foot.
Sir William and I left them on the seat near the fountain, and walked towards the row of shops.
"I really think you must have been mistaken, Miss Lindsay," he repeated.
But I told him that I was sure that Mr. Trafford had recognized us, for he had suddenly disappeared and sent a Frenchwoman to serve us.
I waited outside, while Sir William went into the shop. He came out in a few minutes, looking much relieved.
"It is quite a mistake, Miss Lindsay," he said. "Donald Trafford is not here. I have made full inquiries."
Then he told me that there was no one but the Frenchwoman in the shop when he went in, but he had asked to see the young Englishman who was serving in the shop a few minutes earlier. The Frenchwoman, however, had assured him that there was no Englishman there, nor was there anyone who could speak English. It must have been her husband whom the ladies had seen. He was in the shop a few minutes ago, but he was an Italian. His name was Signor Rialti. Sir William had asked to speak to her husband, but she told him he had been unexpectedly called away on business, and would not return until Monday.
"Then Signor Rialti is evidently the name Mr. Trafford has taken," I said.
"Oh, I think not, Miss Lindsay," said Sir William, decidedly. "You and Evelyn have been mistaken. I have no doubt that the young Italian bears a strong resemblance to Donald Trafford, and that circumstance has led you both to imagine that it must be he."
But though I was silenced by Sir William's firm manner, I was far from being convinced. I was persuaded in my own mind that it was indeed Evelyn's cousin whom we had seen that morning.
Mr. Stanley seemed to notice, with the ready perception which he always showed, that something had happened to disturb us, and that we would like to be left alone. In a few minutes he made an excuse about having to call on someone at the other end of Port Said, and took leave of us.
"Well, Evelyn," said Sir William, as soon as we were alone, "you were quite wrong. You need not have been so agitated, dear. It was nothing more than a mistake." And he told her what he had heard in the shop.
"It is all a lie, papa," she said, when he had finished. "Donald is afraid of being found out, and he has put her up to telling that story in case any inquiries should be made about him. He will not be back until Monday, did she say? Of course not. He knows quite well that our steamer will start late Sunday evening!"
I saw Evelyn glancing several times at the French shop as we sat there talking of other things, and I was glad for her sake when Sir William proposed that we should return to the ship.
We spent a comfortless Sunday on board the wretched little steamer. It was impossible to find any quiet place below, for the saloon was filled by the large party which we had seen at the hotel at Port Said, and most of them spent the day in playing cards and chess, and talking over their journey in loud voices. They made so much noise that we found it was utterly useless to attempt to read or be quiet in there.
So we went on deck and found a shady corner where we were at least in comparative silence, for even the lower deck was the scene of great confusion and noise as a number of pilgrims, who were on their way to Jerusalem, were coming on board. There were Greek pilgrims, Latin pilgrims, and Muslim pilgrims, all of them dressed in what seemed to us the most extraordinary manner. They seemed to be shouting their various languages at the top of their voices. Mr. Stanley told us that at times the steamers were crammed with these pilgrims on their way to the different shrines and holy places. They came from great distances, and went through a great ordeal, and spent large sums of money to obtain, as they vainly hoped, forgiveness of sin.
"I often think," Mr. Stanley said, "that their earnestness puts us to shame."
"Yes," said Evelyn, as she watched a fresh detachment come on board, "and do you not long to tell all of them how sin can really be forgiven?"
"I do indeed
," said Mr. Stanley, "but, Miss Trafford, have you any idea what a difficult matter that would be? How many different languages do you think I would have to learn before I could speak to all these pilgrims?"
We thought perhaps five or six would be necessary, but Mr. Stanley told us to our astonishment that he had just had a conversation with a gentleman who had taken the trouble to go round the vessel in order to find out what were the different nationalities of the people on board. He had made the discovery that there were no fewer than thirty different nations represented in that one steamer.
* * *
We sailed from Port Said on Sunday evening, and came in sight of Jaffa at six o'clock the next morning. We were up early, for we were longing to get our first view of Palestine. It was a lovely morning. The sea was as smooth as a millpond, and the view was exceedingly beautiful as the sun rose behind the Judean hills.
Jaffa looked a pretty place as we saw it from the deck of the steamer, with its white houses overlooking the blue Mediterranean, a green circle of orange trees round it, and the quiet hills beyond.
But we had little time to take in the fact that we were now gazing at the ancient port that was once called Joppa, the very spot from which Jonah boarded a ship for Tarshish, and where Peter lodged and saw the wondrous vision where God told him that Jesus had come to save the Gentiles as well as the Jews, and where Dorcas lived and made garments for the poor, in those far-off Bible days. We had little time for thought of any kind, for as soon as we came in sight of Jaffa a whole fleet of small boats came out to meet us, as they had done at Alexandria.
After the usual tumult we secured a boat, and were rowed to the shore which was a mile and a half away. This would not be at all a safe undertaking in stormy weather, for the only entrance to the harbour was a narrow opening between dangerous rocks. The harbour of Jaffa was a natural one, and had never been improved since the time of Solomon when the timber which Hiram cut down in the Lebanon for the Temple must have been brought to land through this very passage between the rocks.