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

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In a little while we are out of the Red Sea, which at this time of year is really agreeable. All day long we have had a strong head wind, which has rendered the sultry atmosphere quite cool and genial. Provided an invalid is a good sailor, I should say, as far as we have gone, it would be impossible for him to have a more agreeable trip, or one more likely to return him to his native land of fog and frost and rain a better man. Everyone tells me that I am looking wonderfully better for my voyage. I am glad to hear it, as what is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, and I write in the hope that those who can afford it will follow in my steps. I have offered myself as an experiment for the sake of my asthmatic and elderly friends. So far as I have gone the experiment has succeeded beyond my most sanguine expectations.

We made rather a long stay at Aden, where most of the party went ashore; I did not, for of two evils a wise man chooses the least, and it seemed to me a greater evil to be rowed ashore and landed on a sunburnt rock where no water is than to fight with the coal-dust on board and to listen to the perpetual chattering of the natives. We have to be thankful that we are safe out of the Red Sea, which is certainly, with its sunken coral reefs and ragged rocks rising straight out of the water, as difficult a piece of navigation as any of which I ever heard. A captain had need be careful. The sights of Aden are few—a low building or two on the rocks, a native town a few miles off (not worth seeing), and water-tanks more useful than picturesque. Before we had anchored the Somali boys rowed round us in their little cockleshell boats, ready to dive for any coin thrown into the water. Then came the barges, black with coal, with long, dark, lightly-dressed natives, to convey the desirable mineral on board. Their woolly heads seem impervious to the sun’s rays, and if they have dark skins, it but enhances the effect of their glistening teeth. The costume I like best is that of the native policeman, which consists of what looks to me like a nightgown, a turban, and a black necklace. A couple of gentlemen come on board: they wear blue jackets and rich-coloured silk skirts. Their hair is done up in a knot behind, and is kept in good order in front by a tortoise-shell comb. A few salesmen, with ostrich-feathers or wicker baskets, come to do a little business, but overboard the battle rages all day long, as the boys clamour for coins and imploringly stretch their skinny arms to the upper deck. A coin is tossed into the water: in a second they turn heels over head and disappear, in another second they have found it and are ready for another. The boats which take the passengers on shore are large, and manned by four or five men dressed in blue cotton. The charge is a shilling each way. The landing is easy enough, but in this hot climate I question whether a visit repays the trouble. Most of the passengers, however, seem to be of a contrary opinion; nor is that to be wondered at when I state that many of them are ladies—or in other words, true daughters of Eve. They drive out to the tanks, and come back with headache and ears aching as well. In the meanwhile the row on board is incessant, as the wild Arabs of the sea scream for coins and perform all sorts of wonderful tricks in the way of diving. From the deck the scene is interesting and animated. Aden, with its brown rocks, is on our right: and ahead and on the other side of the bay runs the yellow sand, terminating—as everything does, apparently, on this rugged coast—in a peak of rocks. It is only the rock that belongs to us, and what we see are the offices of the company and the residence of the officials. The town is a terrible place to live in. On your way to the old town you meet endless strings of camels with the produce of the country, as in Aden itself not a blade of grass grows. The harbour is alive with ships, and steam-tugs towing the barges laden with coal, and native boats. Over the water seagulls and a bigger bird, apparently a kind of hawk, fly ceaselessly in search of their prey, and beneath sharks abound, as a white man would soon find to his cost were he to attempt a swim. Apparently the shark prefers the white man to the black, and there I and the shark agree. Away from Aden, which looks charming in the warm light of the setting sun, we pass out to the Indian Ocean, and the transition is a relief, as we leave behind the perpetual jabber of the natives of that fortunate district—I write fortunate advisedly, for the English spend a mint of money there, and the natives, to their credit be it written, know how to charge. In one particular case which came under my knowledge £2 was asked for an article for which ultimately the seller was content with 2s. We were to have had an addition to our live cargo in the shape of a smart little lad, whom an Australian had engaged to accompany him. The father was willing, but the brother, a fine-looking darkey, objected, and the boy was taken off again, apparently much against his will. I am told that many of these lads are taken away—they are apprenticed to the white man for a term of three years, the white employer agreeing to pay £12 a year in the shape of wages. As boys, they seem as active as monkeys. Whilst I was watching, one of them had his boat filled with water. In a moment he was out, and, rocking the boat till it was free from water, he paddled away with his one oar as if an upset in the water was an everyday occurrence; and the men seemed as agile as the boys—tall and muscular, with long arms and legs, and without an ounce of spare flesh. I fear by the side of them our Thames watermen would have but a poor chance.