It Happened in Egypt — 28 - Chapter XXV, part 1

MAROONED

Had any human fly ever buzzed himself so fatally into the spider-webs of other people's love affairs?

I asked myself sternly.

As soon as Providence plucked me out of one web, back I would bumble into another, though I had no time for a love affair of my own.

When the _Enchantress Isis_ had slipped past many miles of desert shore, black-striped and tawny as a leopard's skin, and other desert shores so fiercely yellow as to create an effect of sunshine under gray skies, we arrived at Assuan.

I had not yet kept my promise to Rachel, though whether from lack of opportunity or courage I was not sure.

Here we were at historic Assuan; and nothing had happened, nothing which could be written down in black and white, since the excitements at Luxor.

Nevertheless, some of us were different within, and the differences were due, directly or indirectly, to those excitements.

Now we were nearing Ethiopia, alias the Land of Cush, though Monny said she could not bear to have it called by that name, except, of course, in the Bible, where it couldn't be helped.

How would any of us like to "register" at an hotel as Mr. or Miss So-and-So, of Cush?

Oshkosh sounded more romantic.

No land, however, could look more romantic than Assuan, City of the Cataracts, Greek Syene, that granite quarry whose red syenite made obelisks and sarcophagi for kings of countless dynasties.

"Suan," as the Copts renamed it (a frontier town of Egypt since the days of Ezekiel the prophet), now appeared a gay place, made for pleasure-pilgrims.

Sky and river were dazzling blue, and the sea of sand was a sea of gold, the dark rocks lying like tamed monsters at the feet of Khnum, god of the Cataract, glittered bright as jet, over which a libation of red wine had gushed.

The river-front of the town, with its hotels and shops, was brightly coloured as a row of shining shells from a southern sea; tints of pink and blue and amber, translucently clear in contrast with the dark green of lebbek trees and palms, in whose shadow flowers burned, like rainbow-tinted flames of driftwood.

Between our eyes and the brilliant picture, a network of thin dark lines was tangled, as if an artist had defaced his canvas with scratches of a drying brush.

These scratches were in reality the masts of moored feluccas, bristling close to the shore like a high hedge of flower stems, stripped of blossoms and bent by driving wind.

On the opposite side of the river, the desert crouched like a lion who flings back his head with a shake of yellow mane, before he stoops to drink.

And in the midst of the stream rose Elephantine Island, with its crown of feathery palms, its breastwork of Roman ruins (a medal of fame for the kings it gave to Egypt) and its undying lullaby sung by the cataract, among surrounding rocks.

Very strange rocks they were, black as wet onyx, though for thousands of years they had been painted rose by sunrise and sunset; shapes of animal gods, shapes of negro slaves, shapes of broken obelisks and fallen temples; shapes of elephants like those seen first by Egyptians on this island; shapes which one felt could never have taken form except in Egypt.

Over our heads armies of migrating birds made a network like a great floating scarf of beads, each bead a bird: and the blue water round the slow-gliding _Enchantress_ was crowded with boats of so many hitherto unknown sorts, that they might have been visiting craft from another world: feluccas with sails red or white, or painted in strange patterns, or awninged; some with rails like open trellis work of many colours, over which dark faces shone like copper in the sunshine;

rowing boats, "galleys" with fluttering flags, and old soap-boxes roughly lined with tin, in which naked imps of boys perilously paddled.

Out from the boats rushed music in clouds like incense; wild, African music of chanting voices, beating tom-toms, or clapping hands that clacked together like castanets.

Very old men and very young youths thumped furiously on earthen drums shaped like the jars of Elephantine, once so famous that they travelled the length of Egypt filled with wine.

The breeze that fanned to us from beyond the palms and lebbeks, the roses and azaleas, was soft and flower-laden.

There was a scent in it, too, as of ripe grapes, as if a fragrance lingered from vanished days when wine for the gods was made from Elephantine vineyards, and fig-trees never lost their leaves.

We ourselves, and our big three-decked boat were alone in our modernity, if one forgot the line of gay buildings on the shore.

Everything else might have been of the time when the world supposed Elephantine to be placed directly on the Tropic of Cancer, and believed in the magic lamp which lit the unfathomable well; the time when quarries of red and yellow clay gave riches to the island, and all Egypt thanked its gods when Elephantine's Nilemeter showed that the Two Lands would be plentifully watered.

Most of us were going to live on board the _Enchantress_ for our three days at Assuan; but, hearing that lords and ladies of high degrees swarmed at the Cataract Hotel with its wild, watery view of tumbled rocks, and at the Savoy in its flowery gardens, some went where they might hope to cross the path of dukes and duchesses.

The Monny-ites were not "wild" about the aristocracy, nor would royalty (of later date than the Ptolemies) have lured Cleopatra from her suite on the boat.

But the whole party was eager for shore, and no sooner had the _Enchantress_ put her foot on the yellow sands than she was deserted by her passengers.

The bazaars were the first attractions, for "everybody said" that they were as fine in their way as the bazaars of Cairo; so very soon we were all buying silver, ivory, stuffed crocodiles and ostrich feathers from the Sudan, which now opened its gates not far ahead: the Sudan, mysterious, unknown, and vast.

Cleopatra clung to me, with a certain wistfulness, as if in this incarnation she were not so intimately at home in Upper Egypt as she had hoped to be.

Perhaps this loneliness of her soul was due to the fact that instead of seeking her society, "Anthony with an H" seldom came near her now.

Something had warned him off.

He would never tell me or any one on earth: but, unused to the ways of women as he was, I felt sure that he had been uncomfortably enlightened as to Cleopatra's feelings.

The cure, according to his prescription, was evidently to be "absent treatment."

But there was another which I fancied might be efficacious; the sudden arrival on the scene of Marcus Antonius Lark.

I happened to know that he proposed a dash from Cairo to Assuan by train, for I had received two telegrams at the moment of walking off the boat.

The first message announced his almost immediate advent; the second regretted unavoidable delay, but expressed an intention not to let us steam away for Wady Halfa without seeing him.

The excuse alleged was business, but I thought I saw through it, and sympathized; for he whom I had once cursed as a brutal tyrant of money-bags now loomed large as a pathetic figure.

Despite the lesson of the lotuses, I believed that his motive was to try his chance with Mrs. East; that life had become intolerable, unless "Lark's Luck" might hold again; and that he could not wait till the cruel lady returned to Cairo.

It was a toss-up, as we walked side by side to the incense-laden bazaar, whether I told her the news or left her to be surprised by the unexpected visitor.

Eventually I decided that silence would help the cause; and in thus making up my mind I was far from guessing that my own fate and Monny's and Anthony's and Brigit's hung also on that insignificant decision.

I was thankful that Mrs. East said no more of bringing her niece and me together, and that, on the contrary, she dropped dark hints about "everything in life which she had wanted" being now "too late, and useless to hope for" in this incarnation.

Why she had changed her plans for Monny I could not be sure; enough for me that she apparently had changed them.

Sir Marcus did not appear the next day or the next, and I heard no more.

Indeed, between dread of breaking the truth to Bill Bailey, and self-reproach at letting time pass without breaking it, I almost forgot Lark's love affair.

I salved my conscience by working unnecessarily hard, and even helping Kruger with his accounts, when Anthony too generously relieved me of other duties.

How I envied Fenton at this time, because no girls asked him what men they ought to marry; or implored him to prevent men from jilting them;

or urged him to enlighten handsome sculptors with wavy, soft hair, and hard eyes resembling the crystal orbs which were to become fashionable in Society!

Anthony loved Assuan, and apparently enjoyed displaying its beauties.

Not knowing that I hid a fox under my mantle, he meant to be kind in "taking people off my hands," giving them tea on the Cataract Hotel veranda; escorting them to the ruined Saracen Castle which, with Elephantine opposite, barred the river and made a noble gateway;

leading them at sunset to the Arab cemetery in the desert, and to the Bisharin village where wild, dark creatures (whose hair was pinned with arrows and whose ancestors were mentioned in the Bible) sold baskets and bracelets and what not.

There were really, as Sir John Biddell remarked, a "plethora of sights," not counting the magnificent Rock Tombs, since the Set had definitely "struck" against tombs of all descriptions.

But even with an excursion to the ancient quarries, for a look at half-finished obelisks, for once I had not enough to do.

And Fenton had snatched Biddy from me as well as Monny.

Mercilessly he had them sightseeing every moment.

And I could no longer scold Rachel for "letting things slide."

To blame her would be for the pot to call the kettle black.

It was on the day of the Great Dam that I screwed my courage to the sticking-place, and made Bailey understand that his fiancée was nobody but Rachel Guest; that she would be Rachel Guest all her life until she became Mrs. Some One-or-Other: preferably Mrs. Willis Bailey.

Somehow it seemed appropriate to do the deed at the Dam.

And always in future, when people ask what impression the eighth wonder of the world made upon me, I shall doubt for an instant whether they refer to the American sculptor, or to the Barrage.

The way in which we went was so impressive that it was comparatively easy to be keyed up to anything.

Most travellers make the trip on donkey back; or else, as far as Shellal, in a white, blue-eyed desert train, where violet window-glass soothes their eyes and prepares their minds for a future journey to Khartum.

After Shellal they go on in small boats to the wide, still lake which the Great Dam has stored up for the supply of Egypt.

But we of the _Enchantress Isis_ were super-travellers.

Our boat being of less bulk than her new rivals, she was able to reach the Barrage by passing up through its many locks and proceed calmly along the Upper Nile, between the golden shores of Nubia, to Wady Haifa.

We remained on board for the experience; and though I had the task of telling Bailey, still before me, I would not have changed places with a king, as standing on deck, with Biddy by my side, I felt myself ascending the once impassable Cataracts of the god Khnum.

If Biddy had been the only person by my side, I should have risked telling her the secret she ought always to have known.

But there were as many others as could crowd along the rail.

For once they were reflective, not inclined to chatter.

Perhaps the same thought took different forms, according as it fitted itself into different heads;

the thought of that marvellous campaign of the boats which fought their way past these cataracts to relieve Gordon.

The ascent was a pageant for us.

For them it had meant strife and disaster and death.

We admired the glimpses of yellow desert: we exclaimed joyously at the mad turmoil of green water, the blood-red and jet-black rocks, below the Dam.

For us it was a scene of unforgettable majesty.

For those others, the waste of stone-choked river must have yawned like a wicked mouth, full of water and jagged black teeth, which opened to gulp down boats and men.

It was on the brink of the Barrage itself that I spoke to Bailey.

And there, looking down over the immense granite parapet, upon line after line of tamed cataracts breathing rainbows, we were so small, so insignificant, that surely it could not matter to a man whether the girl of his heart were an heiress or a beggar maid!

There was room in the world only for the mighty organ-music of these waters, and the ever underlying song of love.

I saw by the look in Bailey's eyes, however, as he gazed away from me to the long-necked dragon form of a huge derrick, that it _did_ matter.

I had been tactful.

I had mentioned the mistake in identity as if it were a silly game played by children, a game which neither he nor I nor any one could ever have regarded seriously.

He controlled himself, and took it well, so far as outward appearance went: but soon he made an excuse to escape: and presently I saw him strolling off alone, head down, hands in pockets.

Luncheon was being prepared on the veranda of a house belonging to the chief engineer of the Dam.

Its owner was a friend of Sir Marcus Lark, and, being away, had agreed to lend his place to our party, Kruger having done no end of writing and telegraphing to secure it.

Many of our people had got off the _Enchantress Isis_ in one of the locks, and had walked up the steps to the summit-level of the Barrage, Brigit and I among others.

And as we assembled for lunch it was an odd sight to see our white, floating home rising higher and higher, until at last she rode out on the surface of the broad sea of Nile which is held up by the granite wall of the Barrage.

She was to be moored by the Dam, and to wait for us there until evening, when we should have exhausted the Barrage and ourselves;

and have visited Philae.

By and by luncheon was ready, served by our white-robed, red-sashed waiters from the _Isis_, but Bailey did not return.

Rachel begged that our table might wait for a few minutes.

Perhaps he had gone the length of the Dam in one of those handcars, on which some of our people had dashed up and down the famous granite mile, their little vehicles pushed by Arabs.

He might be back in a few minutes.

But the minutes passed and he did not come.

The dragon-derrick stretched its neck from far away, as if to peer curiously at Rachel.

The black and red and purple monsters disguised as rocks for this wild, masquerade ball of the Nile, foamed at the mouth with watery mirth at the trouble these silly things called girls had always been bringing on themselves, since Earth and Egypt were young together.

The look of the forsaken, the jilted, was already stamped upon Rachel's face.

She tried to eat: when the picnic meal could be put off no longer, but could scarcely swallow.

Monny glanced at her anxiously from time to time, perhaps suspecting something of the truth.

And the eyes of both, girls turned to me now and then with an appeal which made unpalatable my well-earned hard-boiled eggs, and drumsticks.

Bother the whole blamed business!

thought I. Hadn't I done all I could?

Wasn't I practically running the lives of these tiresome tourists, as well as their tour?

What did that adventuress out of a New England schoolroom want of me now, when I'd washed my hands of her and her affairs?

But all through, there was no real use in asking myself these questions.

I knew what Rachel wanted, and that I should have to do it, if only to please Biddy, who would be broken-hearted if Monny's indiscretions should wreck the happiness of even the most undeserving young female.

Darling Monny must be saved from remorse at all costs!

One of the costs to me was luncheon as well as peace of mind.

I excused myself from the table.

I pretended to have forgotten some business of importance.

I whispered to the _Enchantress_ dining-room steward, who had come to look after the waiters, that the meal must be served as slowly as possible.

"Drag out the courses," said I. "Make 'em eat salad by itself, and everything separate, except bread and butter."

Having given these last instructions, I was off like an arrow shot from the bow, a reluctant arrow sulking at its own impetus.

Instinct was the hand that aimed me; the _Enchantress Isis_ was the target; and deck cabin No. 36 was the bull's-eye.

As I expected, Bailey was in his stateroom.

I had not far to go; only to hurry from the engineer's house, along the riverbank to the landing place, where a number of native boats were lying; jump into one, and row out a few yards.

But the heat of noon, after the cool shade of the veranda, was terrific.

I

arrived out of breath, my brow richly embroidered with crystal beads, just in time to find Bailey squeezing his bath sponge preparatory to packing it, in a yawning kitbag already full.

At such a moment he could squeeze a sponge!

I hated him for this, as though the sponge had been Rachel's heart.

On his berth lay a letter addressed to her, and another to me.

No doubt he told us both that he had received an urgent telegram.

He was so taken aback at sight of the task master that he let me withdraw the sponge from his pulseless fingers.

I laid it reverently on the washhand-stand, as a heart should be laid on an altar.