Not a moment is lost; sauve-qui-peut is the order of the day; and the Arabs disperse, leaving the traveller to make terms as best he can, probably a permission to return on foot and naked to the town. The wild-looking sons of the desert, mounted on rough but high-bred mares, comes down upon him like a whirlwind, with a loud unearthly yell, shaking their lances over their heads; and the interview is soon over, the tourist finding himself again alone on the broad plain, with or without a shirt, as the case may be. If any resistance has been made by him, any man or mare killed or wounded, the traveller’s adventures here terminate for ever in the thrust of a lance.
It is more likely, however, that the horsemen in the distance prove to be friends, for the Bedouins seldom venture to cross a dangerous district unless assured of the absence of all tribes with whom they have feuds. Under the direction of the sheikh the camp is pitched near some lonely spring, disturbing possibly thereby a troop of wild asses, which gallop off to drink at some safer place.
After a few days’ journey of this kind are described in the distance numerous black specks which gradually assume the form of an encampment, the home of your Bedouin guides. As the party approaches it will be joined by scouts, who come careering towards it with intricate feats of horsemanship, spear in rest, to excite the admiration and respect of the unknown visitor.
On arriving, the guest is taken to the largest tent, where he dismounts, and exclaims, ‘Salaam aleikum!’ Its inmates gravely respond, in a sonorous voice, ‘Aleikum salaam!’ When seated on the best carpet he is regaled with a small cup of black unsugared coffee, rendered still more unpalatable by an odious infusion of bitter-herbs. Presently a huge bowl of rice, cooked with butter, probably rancid, and lumps of mutton, certainly tough, is placed on the ground, and every one thrusts his fingers into it and helps himself. Each partaker of the feast retires when his appetite is satisfied, and leaves his place to another until the last remnants of the fare are devoured by a troop of naked and hungry children, and the bones by the lean curs of the encampment.
All idea of privacy must be given up, as the tent of the stranger will be open to all visitors, who would be much offended if he were to say ‘Not at home’ to the least of them. With the exception of this intrusive disposition, the Bedouins will be found gentle, considerate, and anxious to please their guest. In the morning he may ride out on a hawking party.
While the tourist is enjoying this rich treat, some plundering enterprise may perhaps be planned by the sheikh against the Aneyzeh tribe, which is in a state of perpetual foray and reprisals with the Shammar.
If the traveller should wish to push his study of the desert so far as to run this additional risk, he must see that he be well mounted for a forced retreat, and he must equip himself in a Bedouin costume to avoid the danger of being captured with a view to a heavy ransom. Early in the morning the party will be on their mares, and, taking with them a few thin wheaten cakes for food and each a sheepskin cloak to sleep on, they start in a straight line to a point on the horizon at a good pace, that their enemies may be taken by surprise. All those whom they meet on their way, if of friendly tribes, are invited to join the expedition, which they are always ready to do, and the number of the party will probably soon be thus increased to about a hundred horsemen.
When the ground becomes uneven, a scout is sent to every height to reconnoitre, and towards nightfall a concealed position is sought for a bivouac. No fires are lit, no tents are pitched, but each man throws himself on the ground to eat his dry bread and sleep beside his picketed mare, one being, however, on guard.
An hour or two before daylight the word ‘mount’ is passed from mouth to mouth, and the mares are again put to their mettle. The arrival at the doomed encampment is timed so as to meet the flocks and herds just when they are being driven out in the morning to graze, and before they are scattered about on the pastures, that they may thus be swept off in a body.
The war-chant is commenced. The mares prick their ears and snort with excitement. Those who have been told off to drive the captured cattle and carry off the booty separate from the main body, which gradually quickens its pace, the war-song becoming louder and louder, till a full gallop and a yell bring the assailants round some sheltering mound, and they charge in among the tents.
A scene of disorder ensues which baffles description. The men of the plundered tribe spring out of their tents; some hurl their javelins at the horsemen, others fire their long rifles at them and quickly load, while the women shriek and fling stones; the cattle gallop in all directions with their tails in the air, and the hostile parties of drivers and fighters show the greatest activity in getting the herd together on the move, and in dispersing those who attempt to prevent its being taken away.
If the Shammar be worsted, the sooner the traveller gets his mare into a gallop, in the direction whence he came, the better will it be for him; but, if successful, a few minutes will suffice to get the cattle on their way home, covered by a strong force in the rear, the Aneyzeh firing distant shots to harass them for some miles. The wounded are carried off, the dead left on the field, and, if prisoners have been taken, their ransom is transacted by regular embassies, as well as the conditions for the restoration of a part of the booty when the plundered tribe can afford it. Such incidents are of so frequent occurrence that the traveller will find no lack of opportunity for witnessing them, if it be his wish.
If any English traveller was foolish enough to join such an enterprise; and some no doubt were, or it would not have been written about; and if he survived to tell the table, which he obviously did, he would then pursue his lucky and exhilarated way to Baghdad, where he would, we are told, ‘Meet with a little Anglo-Indian society, which will materially enhance the enjoyment of his stay there.’
Such an adventure as the above may have been possible in the Turkish dominions of the 1850s, but by the beginning of the twentieth century a great deal had changed, proved by the fact that there were more guidebooks to the region, though Baedeker was published in German only. A volume was devoted to Constantinople in the Medieval Towns series, and a special edition, already mentioned, of the Blue Guide (in French) commemorated the opening of the Orient Express route. Apart from Black’s, there was Murray’s updated handbook to the Bosphorus and Dardanelles area, and fifty excellent pages in Macmillan’s Eastern Mediterranean, 1905.
The Bradshaw of the day tells us that getting through the customs at Constantinople was less easy than formerly, but that: ‘A bakhsheesh of 5 piastres will expedite matters.’ Murray informs us: ‘Rifles, revolvers, foreign cigars, and tobacco are prohibited. Books, newspapers, and all printed matters are submitted to the censor; if not returned within a day, application should be made for them through the Consulate. Books such as the “Hand-book” and the “Continental Bradshaw” have, on occasion, been seized.’ Should this be the case, the traveller need not despair, because ‘Otto Keil, booksellers to H.I.M. the Sultan stock all books on the East, including Murray’s Handbooks’, according to an advertisement in Black’s guide.
With regard to accommodation Murray says in his preface that ‘great changes have taken place in TURKEY within the last few years. Travellers who intend to make a long stay may sometimes take furnished lodgings, and have their meals at clubs, hotels, or restaurants. All the furnished lodgings are bad, and very few respectable. The sanitary arrangements and the attendance are wretched.’