Читать книгу An Australian Ramble; Or, A Summer in Australia онлайн

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On leaving Port Said, in a few minutes you are in the Canal, which has been here protected from the shifting sand by a breakwater a mile and a half long. On Lake Menzaleh, to the westward, are to be seen wonderful flights and flocks of birds, including pelicans and flamingoes, to detect which, however, requires an uncommonly strong glass. Ships are piloted on the block system, under the control of the head official at Port Said, who telegraphs the movements of each ship as it slowly makes its way. At each of the stations, or ‘gares,’ there are signal-posts, and a ball above a flag says ‘Go into the siding,’ while a flag above a ball says ‘Go into the Canal.’ You see a good deal of the country, an utter, miserable desert at first, but soon hidden by the sand-banks. As you get nearer to Suez, wandering Arabs and droves of camels may be seen making their way along the burning waste, under the burning sun. All day and all night the heavens are wonderful. Now and then you meet a ship, and there is not much room to spare; now and then one is run aground, and it is often weary waiting, as it is inexpedient to go on shore and take a donkey-ride, in compliance with the request of the donkey-drivers, who seem to scent a stoppage from afar, and come to the bank, clamouring vociferously all the while. As you proceed you find the boys and girls on each side keeping you company, in hopes of the copper the kind-hearted visitor may feel inclined to throw them. It is needless to add that they are loosely clad, and are brown and sunburnt to look at. By night the electric light on the sandy bank has a singularly strange effect, which is more particularly apparent as another ship approaches, making the sand where it catches the light seem as if there were drifts of snow all round. As you enter the lakes the waters widen, and the speed is greater; the scenery is also a little more attractive. Away on your right is the land of Goshen, and Ismailia clusters prettily around the summer palace of the Khedive. Here you drop the passengers for Cairo, who are increasing in number every year—that part of Egypt becoming increasingly a winter resort, essential to the comfort and well-being of those who do not care for English cold and fog and rain. It is a wonderful change and a great relief for the asthmatic to spend a winter in Egypt. It is a pity that more cannot do so, but, alas! few of us can spare the time, and many of us have not the cash, and so a man must live where his bread is buttered, though to do so prolongs his pains at the same time that it shortens his life. As you look at Ismailia it seems a charming spot; however, the condition of the place is by no means sanitary, and danger lurks there under those green trees, beside those still waters. It has, however, been the scene of high life, as when the Canal was opened in 1869, when the Empress Eugenie, the Crown Prince of Prussia and the Empress of Austria took part in the ceremony. At a later date there was also exciting work in Ismailia when it became the basis of ‘our only general’s’ brilliant campaign. The Canal and lakes were filled with transports and men-of-war, and to the town an army of 20,000 men looked for supplies. It was from thence they marched to fight the battle of Tel-el-Kebir, and to send poor Arabia prisoner for life to Ceylon, where, perhaps, after all, he is better off than he would have been had he stopped at home. His life would have been sacrificed had he remained.