The Lands of the Saracen | Page 4

the Moors--Haunts of Robbers--A Stormy
Ride--The Inn at Gaucin--Bad News--A Boyish Auxiliary--Descent
from the Mountains--The Ford of the Guadiaro--Our Fears
Relieved--The Cork Woods--Ride from San Roque to
Gibraltar--Parting with José--Travelling in Spain--Conclusion

The Lands of the Saracen

Chapter I.
Life in a Syrian Quarantine.
Voyage from Alexandria to Beyrout--Landing at Quarantine--The
Guardiano--Our Quarters--Our Companions--Famine and
Feasting--The Morning--The Holy Man of Timbuctoo--Sunday in
Quarantine--Islamism--We are Registered--Love through a
Grating--Trumpets--The Mystery Explained--Delights of
Quarantine--Oriental vs. American Exaggeration--A Discussion of
Politics--Our Release--Beyrout--Preparations for the Pilgrimage.
"The mountains look on Quarantine, And Quarantine looks on the sea."
Quarantine MS.
In Quarantine, Beyrout, _Saturday, April_ 17, 1852.
Everybody has heard of Quarantine, but in our favored country there
are many untravelled persons who do not precisely know what it is, and
who no doubt wonder why it should be such a bugbear to travellers in
the Orient. I confess I am still somewhat in the same predicament
myself, although I have already been twenty-four hours in Quarantine.
But, as a peculiarity of the place is, that one can do nothing, however
good a will he has, I propose to set down my experiences each day,
hoping that I and my readers may obtain some insight into the nature of
Quarantine, before the term of my probation is over.
I left Alexandria on the afternoon of the 14th inst., in company with Mr.
Carter Harrison, a fellow-countryman, who had joined me in Cairo, for
the tour through Palestine. We had a head wind, and rough sea, and I
remained in a torpid state during most of the voyage. There was rain
the second night; but, when the clouds cleared away yesterday morning,
we were gladdened by the sight of Lebanon, whose summits glittered
with streaks of snow. The lower slopes of the mountains were green
with fields and forests, and Beyrout, when we ran up to it, seemed

buried almost out of sight, in the foliage of its mulberry groves. The
town is built along the northern side of a peninsula, which projects
about two miles from the main line of the coast, forming a road for
vessels. In half an hour after our arrival, several large boats came
alongside, and we were told to get our baggage in order and embark for
Quarantine. The time necessary to purify a traveller arriving from
Egypt from suspicion of the plague, is five days, but the days of arrival
and departure are counted, so that the durance amounts to but three full
days. The captain of the Osiris mustered the passengers together, and
informed them that each one would be obliged to pay six piastres for
the transportation of himself and his baggage. Two heavy lighters are
now drawn up to the foot of the gangway, but as soon as the first box
tumbles into them, the men tumble out. They attach the craft by cables
to two smaller boats, in which they sit, to tow the infected loads. We
are all sent down together, Jews, Turks, and Christians--a confused pile
of men, women, children, and goods. A little boat from the city, in
which there are representatives from the two hotels, hovers around us,
and cards are thrown to us. The zealous agents wish to supply us
immediately with tables, beds, and all other household appliances; but
we decline their help until we arrive at the mysterious spot. At last we
float off--two lighters full of infected, though respectable, material,
towed by oarsmen of most scurvy appearance, but free from every
suspicion of taint.
The sea is still rough, the sun is hot, and a fat Jewess becomes sea-sick.
An Italian Jew rails at the boatmen ahead, in the Neapolitan patois, for
the distance is long, the Quarantine being on the land-side of Beyrout.
We see the rows of little yellow houses on the cliff, and with great
apparent risk of being swept upon the breakers, are tugged into a small
cove, where there is a landing-place. Nobody is there to receive us; the
boatmen jump into the water and push the lighters against the stone
stairs, while we unload our own baggage. A tin cup filled with
sea-water is placed before us, and we each drop six piastres into it--for
money, strange as it may seem, is infectious. By this time, the
guardianos have had notice of our arrival, and we go up with them to
choose our habitations. There are several rows of one-story houses
overlooking the sea, each containing two empty rooms, to be had for a

hundred piastres; but a square two-story dwelling stands apart from
them, and the whole of it may be had for thrice that sum. There are
seven Frank prisoners, and we take it for ourselves. But the rooms are
bare, the kitchen empty, and we learn the important fact, that