is a very odd sight to see the masts of the first one gliding
away to the left, nothing else being visible but the flat
sea of sand as far as the eye can reach. Pilots are necessary
for the Canal, and notwithstanding their special
knowledge and skill, vessels frequently get aground.
Coaling over, we get under way and enter the strip of salt
water which connects the Mediterranean with the Gulf
of Suez, passing through the flat desert, a distance of
about eighty-seven miles. The completion of this undertaking,
apart from facilitating European and Eastern
commerce, has also, if local report speaks truly, benefited
the climate of the district as well; a current of cool air is
now attracted along its route, and the precious burden of
the rain-clouds has also been brought to this tract of arid
sands, which previously were almost entirely destitute of
showers. Another benefit to the dwellers on its shores is
the fish which travel along this strip of water-way and so
are caught close to the doors of those who live or who
are employed along its hanks. At five mile intervals
along the hanks are stations for signalling purposes, and
as the strip of seaway is not broad enough for two vessels
to pass each other, the Canal is widened at each “ gare,”
so that one vessel can make fast while the other passes.
The whole thing is regulated by a simple telegraphic and
signalling system. Nearly all these stations have little
gardens, hut the prettiest of them all in this way is that
at the old Arab town and ferry station of Kantara,
through which many caravans pass on their way to and
from Cairo. Here is a tiny hotel, and several little
whitewashed houses with shady verandahs laden with
climbing plants of various kinds. One of the houses is
sheltered by a row of poplars, and the colour and fragrance
of the oleanders were delightful. The Arabs call
this flower the “ Rose of the Desert,” and certainly at
this little oasis it might fairly be said that the desert had
been made “ to blossom as the rose.”
We reached here at sunset, and the air was deliciously
cool and fresh, and a sight of the dark green poplar trees
was most cheering and home-like. Crickets chirped in
the sand, and the splashing of the fish in the Canal was
heard very frequently after we had made fast for the
night. The tints on the vegetation and sand-hills by the
hanks just before sunset are most lovely, and the sunsets
themselves very gorgeous as seen through the clear dry
air. Two of the firemen had to be placed in irons soon
after leaving Port Said, to prevent them from leaping
overboard or injuring themselves. They were literally
maddened by some villanous spirituous drink which had
been smuggled on board during the hurry and bustle of
coaling in the morning. Here and there we passed the
bodies of dead camels, on wdiich wolfish-looking dogs or
vultures regale themselves. Flocks of flamingoes were
seen in the distance. As the air becomes clearer after
sunrise the distant sand-hills resemble islands in a broad
lake or sea, an effect due to mirage; indeed, the semblance
of a flat expanse of water lying in the full sunshine near
the horizon is so perfect as to deceive all but the experienced.
The hills of loose sand close to the banks of
the Canal are swept quite smooth by the winds in some
places, while here and there the surface is rippled like a
snow-ruck, and the foot-prints on these jg sands of time ”
made by the passing Arab are singularly like those made
in frozen snow.
At one of the stations an old Arab offered a basket of very
fine fish for sale which he had caught in the Canal the
night before. We got a view of the Khedive’s Palace and
M. E. de Lessep’s residence at Ismalia just before running
through the “ Bitter Lakes,” and reached Suez before