Two fellow-passengers were destined to play an important part in my
comedy of Cairo. Just after we had started, a little event afforded us
some amusement. On the bank appeared a short, crummy, pursy kind of
man, whose efforts to board the steamer were notably ridiculous. With
attention divided between the vessel and a carpet-bag carried by his
donkey boy, he ran along the sides of the canal, now stumbling into
hollows, then climbing heights, then standing shouting upon the
projections with the fierce sun upon his back, till everyone thought
his breath was completely gone. But no! game to the backbone, he would
have perished miserably rather than lose his fare: "patience and
perseverance," say the wise, "got a wife for his Reverence." At last he
was taken on board, and presently he lay down to sleep. His sooty
complexion, lank black hair, features in which appeared beaucoup de
finesse, that is to say, abundant rascality, an eternal smile and
treacherous eyes, his gold[FN#6] ring, dress
[p.35]of showy colours, fleshy stomach, fat legs, round back, and a
peculiar manner of frowning and fawning simultaneously, marked him an
Indian. When he awoke he introduced himself to me as Miyan Khudabakhsh
Namdar, a native of Lahore: he had carried on the trade of a shawl
merchant in London and Paris, where he had lived two years, and, after
a pilgrimage intended to purge away the sins of civilised lands, he had
settled at Cairo.
My second friend, Haji Wali, I will introduce to the reader in a future
chapter; and my two expeditions to Midian have brought him once more
into notice.[FN#7]