African and European Addresses | Page 4

to it with a haste eloquent of the horrible Marseillaise poverty-stricken
alleys, picked it up joyously, turned--and with a delightful grace kissed
her finger-tips towards the ship.
Apparently we all of us had a few remaining French coins; and
certainly we were all grateful to the young Englishman for his happy

thought. The sous descended as fast as the woman could get to where
they fell. So numerous were they that she had no time to express her
gratitude except in broken snatches or gesture, in interrupted attitudes
of the most complete thanksgiving. The day of miracles for her had
come; and from the humble poverty that valued tiny and infrequent
splinters of wood she had suddenly come into great wealth. Everybody
was laughing, but in a very kindly sort of way it seemed to me; and the
very wharf rats and gamins, wolfish and fierce in their everyday life of
the water-front, seemed to take a genuine pleasure in pointing out to her
the resting-place of those her dim old eyes had not seen. Silver pieces
followed. These were too wonderful. She grew more and more excited,
until several of the passengers leaning over the rail began to murmur
warningly, fearing harm. After picking up each of these silver pieces,
she bowed and gestured very gracefully, waving both hands outward,
lifting eyes and hands to heaven, kissing her fingers, trying by every
means in her power to express the dazzling wonder and joy that this
unexpected marvel was bringing her. When she had done all these
things many times, she hugged herself ecstatically. A very well-dressed
and prosperous-looking Frenchman standing near seemed to be a little
afraid she might hug him. His fear had, perhaps, some grounds, for she
shook hands with everybody all around, and showed them her wealth in
her kerchief, explaining eagerly, the tears running down her face.
Now the gang-plank was drawn aboard, and the band struck up the
usual lively air. At the first notes the old woman executed a few feeble
little jig steps in sheer exuberance. Then the solemnity of the situation
sobered her. Her great, wealthy, powerful, kind friends were departing
on their long voyage over mysterious seas. Again and again, very
earnestly, she repeated the graceful, slow pantomime--the wave of the
arms outward, the eyes raised to heaven, the hands clasped finally over
her head. As the brown strip of water silently widened between us it
was strangely like a stage scene--the roofed sheds of the quay, the
motionless groups, the central figure of the old woman depicting
emotion.
Suddenly she dropped her hands and hobbled away at a great rate,
disappearing finally into the maze of the street beyond. Concluding that

she had decided to get quickly home with her great treasure, we
commended her discretion and gave our attention to other things.
The drizzle fell uninterruptedly. We had edged sidewise the requisite
distance, and were now gathering headway in our long voyage. The
quail was beginning to recede and to diminish. Back from the street
hastened the figure of the little old woman. She carried a large white
cloth, of which she had evidently been in quest. This she unfolded and
waved vigorously with both hands. Until we had passed quite from
sight she stood there signalling her farewell. Long after we were
beyond distinguishing her figure we could catch the flutter of white.
Thus that ship's company, embarking each on his Great Adventure, far
from home and friends, received their farewell, a very genuine farewell,
from one poor old woman. B. ventured the opinion that it was the best
thing we had bought with our French money.

III.
PORT SAID.
The time of times to approach Port Said is just at the fall of dusk. Then
the sea lies in opalescent patches, and the low shores fade away into the
gathering night. The slanting masts and yards of the dhows silhouette
against a sky of the deepest translucent green; and the heroic statue of
De Lesseps, standing for ever at the Gateway he opened, points always
to the mysterious East.
The rhythmical, accustomed chug of the engines had fallen to quarter
speed, leaving an uncanny stillness throughout the ship. Silently we
slipped between the long piers, drew up on the waterside town, seized
the buoy, and came to rest. All around us lay other ships of all sizes,
motionless on the inky water. The reflections from their lights seemed
to be thrust into the depths, like stilts; and the few lights from the town
reflected shiveringly across. Along the water-front all was dark and
silent. We caught the loom of buildings; and behind them a dull glow
as from a fire, and guessed tall minarets, and heard the rising and

falling of chanting. Numerous small boats hovered near, floating