1920-22 Draft of the Seven Pillars of Wisdom – Page 49

X Stors and Akheller. On our last voyage to Ras al-Khaimah, we had the misfortune to be captured by the Turks and sent prisoners to the Porte. Of our proceedings on that occasion I need not give you a detailed account; but shall merely remark, that my Rais, seeing in what a hopeless situation he was placed, resorted to the desperate expedient of running his vessel upon the main land near Cape Gata, preferring the chance of being plundered by the country people to becoming a slave of the Turks. We were all made prisoners however, and after suffering almost every species of ill-treatment at the hands of our captors, were at last ransomed; those from Ragusa paying about 1500 dollars each for their liberty. We returned to Algiers about the latter end of August, where we separated – the poor Rais and his crew going one way, and myself and my remaining companions another; the latter making the best of our way to rejoin our ships at Mahon: but though we had obtained the means of paying our passage from that island to Gibraltar, so poor was our plight owing to the robberies and accumulated losses we had sustained in Turkey, that we could not even muster up cash sufficient to satisfy the exorbitant demands of the Spaniards, who refused to let us embark, although we had the Queen's Admiralty protection and were actually dismissed with due form as Prisoners of War. Rather, therefore, than submit to such bare faced extortion, we were not unwillingly thrown into the horrible prison of Mahon, from which, after a confinement of nearly six months, I was relieved by the kindness of Captain Shortland of the royal navy, who supplied me with necessities until I could arrange for my return to England. He said the usual farewell then to Jidda, in the delightful sea-climate of the Red Sea, where his heart was still with his ship or hareem: and in company with some Arabs of the noman tribe, bent his steps once more for Mascat. By the last accounts of them, they were all well, and the wet dhies Laalh, Alen, and Ainnah were pursuing a prosperous voyage in the Black hills, and Frankincense country; but when at last we ascured in the rain-beaten line, not far within the mountain range in sight as it showed glimpses betwixt the shady ravines, all the petty sheikhs, to whom the poor men had hitherto trusted, and from whom we were in hopes of receiving some little aid and succor, joined in the common feeling of the land, abandoned us in despite of the earnest remonstrances of old Zeyd, the most respectable of their confederacy, and hurried onwards to the east, all in desperate quest of the same grand object of attraction, which had thrown its irresistible spell upon the whole Beduein race. There was now no other alternative but to force our way further inland, in whatever direction the desert current might sweep us; and, like the hard swarthy companies of Sinaitic Arabs that annually arrive on the Syrian plains to follow the streaks of verdant life, we were soon involved in the great flow of the restless wanderers. Scattered bodies of Turkish cavalry hung forever upon our flanks, and kept us drifting, like the Jews of old across the desert from before the face of the destroying Angel; while the lost sons of the cities went pouring down behind in wild disorderly array, famishing and desperate as ourselves, and swelling the chaotic mass of the rearward fugi- tives. In such guise we were hurried breathlessly on until the far off line of the distant sea-coast burst again upon our view, and announced the termination of our wretched journey.