the fire.

After wandering through the island, which contained not a human being save
a party of Somal boatmen, cutting firewood for Aden, and having massacred
a number of large fishing hawks and small sea-birds, to astonish the
natives, our companions, we returned to the landing-place. Here an awning
had been spread; the goat destined for our dinner--I have long since
conquered all dislike, dear L., to seeing dinner perambulating--had been
boiled and disposed in hunches upon small mountains of rice, and jars of
sweet water stood in the air to cool. After feeding, regardless of
Quartana and her weird sisterhood, we all lay down for siesta in the light
sea-breeze. Our slumbers were heavy, as the Zayla people say is ever the
case at Saad el Din, and the sun had declined low ere we awoke. The tide
was out, and we waded a quarter of a mile to the boat, amongst giant crabs
who showed grisly claws, sharp coralline, and sea-weed so thick as to
become almost a mat. You must believe me when I tell you that in the
shallower parts the sun was painfully hot, even to my well tried feet. We
picked up a few specimens of fine sponge, and coral, white and red, which,
if collected, might be valuable to Zayla, and, our pic-nic concluded, we
returned home.

On the 14th November we left the town to meet a caravan of the Danakil
[14], and to visit the tomb of the great saint Abu Zarbay. The former
approached in a straggling line of asses, and about fifty camels laiden
with cows' hides, ivories and one Abyssinian slave-girl. The men were wild
as ourang-outangs, and the women fit only to flog cattle: their animals
were small, meagre-looking, and loosely made; the asses of the Bedouins,
however, are far superior to those of Zayla, and the camels are,
comparatively speaking, well bred. [15] In a few minutes the beasts were
unloaded, the Gurgis or wigwams pitched, and all was prepared for repose.