Soudanese. On his head was the usual red fez; his clothing was of trim
khaki; his knees and feet were bare, with blue puttees between; and
around his middle was drawn close and smooth a blood-red sash at least a
foot and a half in breadth. He made a fine upstanding Egyptian figure,
and was armed with pride, a short sheathed club, and a great scorn. No
word spoke he, nor command; but merely jerked a thumb towards the
darkness, and into the darkness our many-hued horde melted away. We were
left feeling rather lonesome!

Near midnight we sauntered down the street to the quay, whence we were
rowed to the ship by another turbaned, long-robed figure, who sweetly
begged just a copper or so "for poor boatman."

We found the ship in the process of coaling, every porthole and doorway
closed, and heavy canvas hung to protect as far as possible the clean
decks. Two barges were moored alongside. Two blazing braziers lighted
them with weird red and flickering flames. In their depths, cast in
black and red shadows, toiled half-guessed figures; from their depths,
mounting a single steep plank, came an unbroken procession of natives,
naked save for a wisp of cloth around the loins. They trod closely on
each other's heels, carrying each his basket atop his head or on one
shoulder, mounted a gang-plank, discharged their loads into the side of
the ship, and descended again to the depths by way of another plank. The
lights flickered across their dark faces, their gleaming teeth and eyes.
Somehow the work demanded a heap of screeching, shouting, and
gesticulation; but somehow also it went forward rapidly. Dozens of
unattached natives lounged about the gunwales with apparently nothing to
do but to look picturesque. Shore boats moved into the narrow circle of
light, drifted to our gangway, and discharged huge crates of vegetables,
sacks of unknown stuffs, and returning passengers. A vigilant police