’Hastily they raised anchor and ran up the sail, for the camels were rapidly coming nearer. In their hurry they forgot to undo the reef point that held the sail furled on the lateen yard. The boy, agile as a monkey, swarmed up to repair the oversight. At this moment a shot rang out and the child fell into the sea. One of the coastguards had just fired and was gesticulating to order the ship to put in again. Moussa threw himself into the sea to save his child. His brother, terror-stricken, crouched in the bottom of the boat. Then the guards opened fire on this miserable drifting boutre, trying to cut the halyard so as to bring down the half-furled sail. Moussa swam along, carrying the unconscious boy in his arms. He came close to the boat on the side furthest from land, and his brother leaned over to help him in. He seized the child and laid him in the bottom of the boutre. Then, just as he was stretching out a hand to help his brother, he fell, his head shattered by a bullet.
’Moussa, mad with terror and rage, stood upright in the stern, despite the bullets that whistled round him. He raised his arms in token of submission, and guided the ship towards the shore. The guards stopped firing. Moussa did not act in this way out of obedience to their orders, but his son was still breathing, and he only thought of getting help.
As soon as he touched land the two brutes threw themselves upon him and bound his hands. They flung him on the sand along with the still unconscious child. The noise of the shots had been heard by the other coastguards, who werenow galloping up at full speed. One of them was an officer, and he immediately assumed direction of the whole affair, as if he had been responsible for it. They told him that the occupants had been seen burying a suspicious-looking packet in the sand. They had tried to flee, so that the guards had been forced to fire, as the law permitted in such cases. The four soldiers agreed to adopt this version.
’The sack buried there some days before by the two guards was dug up, it was recognizable as hashish, and though Moussa protested his innocence, pointing out in what a state the hashish was, it was no use. The law didn’t say anything about the quality of the hashish. The evidence was there beside their boat, the corpse and the wounded child testified that there had been opposition to authority, it was a splendid and watertight affair.
’The unhappy Moussa begged that at least they would save his child; that was all he cared about. The bullet had gone right through his chest and was under the right shoulder-blade; he was gasping for air, a blood-stained foam on his lips. The soldiers threw him brutally beside his uncle, who was unmistakably dead. Half his brains had been blown away, and his eyes were starting from their sockets. They threw a coat over the two forms and a messenger was sent off post-haste to fetch the officer of the post, that he might give a legal aspect to this atrocious crime. The camels knelt down and the three guards drew out their water pipes and began smoking as if nothing had happened. Little by little the child’s moans ceased. There was a rattle in his throat as the last vestiges of life fled, then silence. Moussa, kneeling there with bound hands, let his head fall on his knees and was still. He was not weeping; he gave himself up to his fate. He was condemned to two years’ imprisonment; his boutre and everything he had were taken from him. The newspapers were loud in praise of the valiant coastguards, and the vigilance and initiative of their officers who, at the peril of their lives, had upheld the law, and got the better of two dangerous criminals.
‘When Moussa got out of prison he sought me out. All this happened ten years ago. I got him a job as fireman on a ship bound for America; as his trial was still fresh in people’s minds, the police kept an eye on him and he couldn’t find work. Four years later he was forgotten. He reappeared among the coolies working at widening the canal. Nobody recognized him, and he had taken the name of Djebeli. Even I had to think before I could place him when one evening he knocked at my door, saying he would like to work for me. I realized that the two graves on the coast between Cape Zafrana and the Ras Abu Diraj bound him for ever to this country until God avenged them.’
‘And has God avenged them?’ I asked.
‘Who knows? Djebeli never speaks of them. Perhaps he is waiting to find those who assassinated his brother and son? Perhaps he has found them? There is no use asking him, he will not say a word on this subject.’
‘That is because he comes from the mountains of Antar,’ said Omar, who knew the story and had followed it in thought. ‘It is a country where forgiveness is unknown, and where an injury is never forgotten. Djebeli, one night when I asked him about the death of his son, told me this story instead of replying. There is a legend that an old king of his country was taken prisoner by Antar’s soldiers. One of them put out his eyes and took him for a slave. He accepted his destiny, as all the Faithful must accept the will of God, and did his menial tasks without complaint.
‘When Antar came back from the war and learnt of this cruelty, he ordered the soldier’s hands to be cut off, and he was driven forth to die in the desert. He delivered the captive king, and took him into his own household, where he was treated with every consideration. But the blind man did not know this, he thought that Antar was the author of all his sufferings. For twenty years he practised shooting with a bow and arrows; guided only by his keen sense of hearing, the slightest sound indicated to him where his target was. When at last he reached the point where he could silence the murmuring song in the turtle-dove’s throat by a swift and silent arrow, he knew his hour had come and waited his chance.
’One night Antar was watching over his tribe and their flocks which were encamped in the middle of the mountains. The enemy was near, but dared not approach, so great was the prestige of the warrior chief. Then the blind old man heard him whom he considered as his assassin singing softly in the perfumed darkness. Guided by this song, a poisoned arrow flew through the still air, and found its mark.
“’You can take my life now, you who took the light from my eyes, for I am avenged. But hasten, for the subtle poison in this arrow, which I have saved for you for twenty years, will kill you in a quarter of an hour, and the enemy will be upon you, for they know I am to take vengeance this night,” said the blind man.
“’May God forgive you, poor old man, twice blind. If I have still by God’s grace fifteen minutes to live, I can employ them better than by punishing the mistake that has made you a criminal,” replied Antar.
‘So saying he sprang on his horse, and galloped off down the ravine, stopping at the entrance to the pass. He stood up straight in his stirrups with his back to the mountain, his lance thrust into the ground, and death surprised him in this warrier’s attitude. The enemy, coming to take the camp by surprise, fled in confusion when they saw the grim figure of this motionless horseman rising into the night, and the dogs howled with terror.’
The afternoon was waning when we set out on our return journey. This time we took a path which led directly to the station, and the little train, crammed with Arabs, took us back to Cairo. We finished the evening, until the very late dinner hour, in a café, which might almost be called a restaurant, for one could eat a sufficient variety of hors-d’oeuvre to constitute a veritable meal. Gorgis, of course, knew the landlord, who hovered round him with marked deference. With his usual lavishness when he was in public, he ordered a pound of caviare, a very special caviare, it appeared, reserved solely for his consumption. I looked at the people sitting near; not one of them reminded me of the faces I had seen at Port Said.
‘Here,’ explained Gorgis, ‘you won’t see that horde of down-and-outs, living by their wits, which can be found in every seaport in the Orient. There, these shady creatures batten on the sailors who come ashore. They buy from the stewards or firemen of the liners slim cakes of hashish in the form of soles, which are hidden in their shoes, or some such shape.’
And Gorgis told me a lot of amusing stories, like the one about the wandering minstrel who went and played in the dining-saloons of the big liners, to excite the pity of the passengers by his wooden leg and sightless eyes. His wooden leg was most useful for
hiding hashish in, and his eyes were covered artificially by a whitish film which could be removed at pleasure. He overdid it in the end, by trying to use his violin too. He dropped it one day when he was going down the companion-way. Someone charitably picked it up for him, and found it strangely heavy. He looked inside it; it was full of hashish. This poor devil went and fetched off the hashish for the lazy brutes lounging in the cafés.
‘There is nothing like that in Cairo. From all the towns in the interior serious business men who act as warehousemen for hashish come and buy wholesale quantities, fifty or a hundred okes. The smaller fry buy in their turn from them and furnish the fellahs in the villages.’
‘Is so much hashish smoked in Egypt as all that?’
‘At least twenty to twenty-five tons a year, I should say.’
‘But who smokes these enormous quantities?’
‘The peasants and the workmen the lower classes. The young gentlemen with the fez think it is too vulgar a drug and prefer cocaine, a poison which is making great strides in this country.’
‘But how do you explain how all these fellahs and workmen look so healthy? It doesn’t seem as if the drug hurt them at all.’
Well, that depends. The workers, the men who work in the fields, and the coolies, for example, only use it to stimulate themselves and overcome their hereditary laziness. They are accustomed to it, like their ancestors for centuries before them, and it doesn’t affect them.
But those who lead an idle life, and use it to procure new sensations, quickly ruin their brains, and as often as not go mad.
‘This pleasing result generally comes from the aphrodisiac action, helped along by the fact that Mohammedans are polygamous. A strong dose of hashish will prolong for hours an act which is naturally short, with the maximum expenditure of nervous energy. You can imagine the dire results. But these creatures are the exception, and I don’t really think it matters if such seekers after unnatural pleasures destroy themselves.’
‘Probably it was because of them that philanthropists took up the question and the Government banned hashish in Egypt?’
‘If it was, then these contemptible degenerates have been of some use, for its prohibition is what sent up the price. Perhaps right at the start a few old ladies or clergymen protested in the name of morality, but once hashish was prohibited, the prices soared to such an extent that the Government saw what profits could be indirectly made by them.’
‘But how can you struggle against this army of spies, customs officers and police, without greasing their palms?’ I asked.
‘Because they are imbeciles, cowards and incompetents. Among the chiefs there are a few clever men, but they are not Egyptians, they are English. They are rare, I grant you, but they do exist; but what can they do with all those boobs who come and enlist because they are unable to earn their bread unassisted? The majority of them are cowards, and might well have finished at the business end of a noose if the Government hadn’t employed them for this low police work.’
‘All the same, all policemen and customs officers aren’t fools.’
‘Oh, you, with your European ideas! Perhaps that is so in your country, but here the police are the most corrupt body imaginable. I’m not fond of the English any more than you are, but if they didn’t rule Egypt with a firm hand, it would be the most barbarous and cut-throat country that ever pretended to be civilized. All the people who are diseased, suspected, under a cloud, more or less kicked out of their own country, come and settle here. First they live as best they can by nameless occupations; for this is a country where all the vices flourish open and unashamed, and such people can always make a livelihood. And once they have a really ignoble reputation in their particular line of filth, they can always get into the secret police. Most of them are Italians, Greeks, Turks or Maltese, generally expelled from their own countries, or deserters. They accept very small wages, counting on their practical common sense to augment their earnings. These men are ready for anything. Then one fine day they appear in the official world, in a smart uniform and glittering tarboosh, and their brilliant career begins. You can imagine that one would have to be insane to trust these beauties. If you are not betrayed, and you never are when you work alone, you take no risks. This fine police force that you see parading when the big liners come in is good for nothing but tormenting the unlucky tourists arriving in Egypt about their passports.’
I thought privately that Gorgis was exaggerating. I still had some illusions. I was to learn some years later that the picture he painted was only part of the reality. I shall recount that stupefying story another time.
Stavro said good-bye to us. I realized that he did not like going to Gorgis’ house, the luxury of which upset him, and Gorgis on his side did not try to persuade him to stay.
‘Really,’ he said to me, ‘Stavro is too picturesque-looking. Everybody turns and stares at this brigand who looks as if he had escaped from the screen of a picture-house.’
That’s true, ‘I admitted; lie is a bit conspicuous, but he must be most useful to you in Suez.’
‘Of course he’s useful to me, but his presence often weighs on me. He never risks a cent in any deal either; I have to stand all the racket, including his share. So if anything goes wrong, he does not lose anything. Watch him taking money out of his purse, he never fails to make an involuntary motion to hide what he is doing.’
‘Yes’ I replied, ‘I had noticed that and it amused me. I’ve seen the peasants at home make the same gesture on the fair grounds. It’s very atavistic, this fear of pick-pockets.’
‘And another thing,’ went on Gorgis, ‘he simply can’t resist having little deals on the side, to make a few pounds unknown to me. I had a most violent argument with him about those two okes that you lost. In the hope of finding them without saying anything to you, he had the whole coast searched, risking drawing attention to it just when it was so important not to. Don’t ever confide anything in him, and never do business with him without telling me. What else can you expect? He is a peasant, as you say, cunning and suspicious. You must just accept him as he is. Apart from those little manias, he is a very good fellow, and I can rely on him absolutely. All the Arabs of Suez are in his power. Thanks to this, he always knows what is going on in the customs offices, and every movement of the police.’
‘You say he searched for the two okes I had lost, but did he tell you he hunted for my hiding-place as well?’
‘What makes you think he did that?’
So I told him what Abdi had seen, the night he was coming back along the shore on foot.
‘You are right to tell me about this. Every detail has its importance. We must walk warily; I shall warn Omar this very evening.’
At last I was on the platform of Cairo station, waiting for a train to take me back to Suez. I was impatient to get back to my boutre, first to see that everything was all right, for one never knows what may happen, and secondly, to get out of this business atmosphere, where I had to act all the time in order to appear at ease, in which I could never be natural for one second. I met Stavro in the train, and he immediately began to talk about Gorgis. I praised him warmly, saying I had found him a very fine fellow, and he couldn’t resist running him down a little.
‘It’s a blessing I am there to arrange everything,’ he said, ‘for I am the one who discusses business with the Bedouins. I know how to manage them; and when somebody has to go out and be tossed about in the Gulf, it’s always me. And yet, though I’m the one to take the risks, Gorgis puts most of the profits in his pocket. He is the big business man, established and respected, while I am looked on as a low smuggler. And when we are in the street together, I have to walk ten yards behind so as not to compromise him.’
‘But after all,’ I objected, ‘it is he who advances all the money.’
‘Oh, he told you that, too, did he? Don’t you believe it; you can bet your bottom dollar that not one sou comes out of his little pile. The money he gave you came out of the sum pai
d on account by his customers in view of the arrival of your merchandise. If anything went wrong, which God forbid, he would tell these people that all was lost, that it was a misfortune for which he was in no way responsible, and he wouldn’t refund their money for a long time, perhaps never.’
What Stavro had just told me made me see how skilfully these men managed to protect themselves against the risks of their trade, and how very badly protected I was against the risks of mine.
Stavro went on grumbling about his partner. To listen to them you would have thought that they endured each other with great difficulty, each one weighed down by a debt of gratitude, each one claiming to act generously by the other who was very mean. And yet they could not move a step without each other. At the first sign of trouble, they rushed to each other’s houses in order to calm their fears, and Stavro and Gorgis would have died rather than betray each other. Yet as soon as they were separated, neither could resist running the other down. It was just their little way, and really meant nothing.
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