Chapter 4: A Line in the Sand

“The British Museum Expedition to Egypt is finally on site, on the east bank of Lake Timsah and opposite the settlement of Timsah. Where do you intend to start your first investigative excavation, Professor?”
Crudwright gave me a world-weary look. “We do not just dig willy-nilly on arrival at our intended site of operations, Sir Elijah. First, I must have a detailed topographical map made of the area. All and any anomalies in the terrain must be investigated, and trenches dug in those areas most likely to have some structures buried beneath. I hope Captain Guest will be able to start his mapping first thing in the morning.”

“Captain Guest has a military project to complete before being available to the expedition, Professor.”

The scrubby, sandy, arid, land stretched away to the east in a slight gradient. I was mounted and had a good view of the surrounding area, and could see that about three hundred yards away to the east was a jumble of rocks.

“There are some rocks, or possibly even building rubble, about three hundred yards to the east, Professor. You could investigate there until Captain Guest completes his primary task.”
Crudwright was on foot and could not see the rocks, and he sneered in contempt. “Whatever you see could not possibly be the structure we seek, which will be buried under centuries of soil and wind blown sand.”

“Quite so. But perhaps the structure you seek has been built over many times during those same centuries? I understand there are several older incarnations of the city buried beneath present day London.” I dismounted. “Whatever; you know your business best, but no mapping can take place until Captain Guest completes his orders.”

Five days had elapsed since we returned to Damietta after our visit to Giza. Three of those days were spent travelling from Damietta, via Mansoura, to Timsah and then to the east bank of Lake Timsah. The travel party consisted of me, Captain Guest, and Yusuf El Mekky mounted on horses supplied by Sayeed, and Hassan, a young lad who was a nephew of El Mekky’s late wife, mounted on a donkey. Crudwright and the ladies were conveyed in a two horse- drawn carriage. Six Provincial Guards, mounted on camels, brought up the rear of the party.
It appears horses and camels are like oil and water, and do not mix.

Before we left Damietta Rollo and I were invited to ride camels on the journey to Lake Timsah. He wisely declined the offer and took a horse for his mount. I wished I had done the same.
My camel was more intractable than any horse I have ever ridden, and even getting into the saddle was a strain. To mount onto the saddle of a camel the beast must be seated. One then places a foot in the stirrup preparatory to hoisting oneself into, or rather onto, the saddle. In order to get over the beast’s hump the other leg must be flung far higher and further than when mounting a horse.
Once the rider is ensconced on the high perch the camel will rise from its seated position back legs first, which pitches the rider forward. There are handles situated on the saddle to hold onto, one in front to stop being thrown backward and one behind to stop being thrown forward. After standing the camel will plod forward at its own speed, which because of its long legs covers the ground much more rapidly than its rather slow gait would indicate.
As the camel walks, the rider rocks from side to side, a most uncomfortable feeling compared to the motion of a horse. A tug on the reins to the left will send the camel to the left; tugging on the right will send the animal to its right. However, a camel has a mean streak and can, and does, sometimes swing around its long neck and bite the leg of its rider or spit in the rider’s face. Both are unpleasant, but the former is also painful.
After an hour of riding the camel my tail-bone was as sore as if riding a horse without a saddle for a day.

According to Arabs, the camel bears the haughty, arrogant, disdainful, expression on its face because it alone among animals, including humans, knows all the hundred names of God. The camel I rode I christened ‘Rossiter’, as it bore a striking resemblance to the director of the British Museum, with the same sneering and supercilious set of the face, besides which both man and beast gave me a right royal pain in the buttocks.
Next morning I swapped ‘Rossiter’ for a wiry Arab horse, and both the camel and I felt better for the new arrangement.

We had stayed the night in Mansoura at a house belonging to the governor of the town, a relative of Sayeed’s. There was much mirth generated when the ladies were accommodated in the harem and Crudwright was shown to the eunuchs’ quarters. The fact he had travelled in the carriage with the females, and was as fat as most of the eunuchs employed by Sayeed, was ample reason for the steward of the house to make the assumption.

Hassan, Yusuf El Mekky’s nephew, spoke a reasonable amount of English, and according to El Mekky, or Mackay as I will refer to him from now on, the boy was an asset as his father was a bedu, that is a Bedouin, a desert dweller. The Bedouin are nomadic, camel riding herdsmen, and can live in places where even Egyptians would perish.

“Hassan speaks Bedu, which is a dialect of Arabic, and can track animals and persons across desert terrain. He is also a first rate cook. When you and Captain Guest go off to map the way of a canal...” MacKay grinned when he saw my look of amazement. “Do not worry, Colonel, Sayeed knows what you and Captain Guest are about, and you have his blessing. No one in Egypt thinks there will ever be a canal built linking the Mediterranean to the Red Sea, and are quite amused to see Europeans spending money and time on the project.”

He continued with his original conversation. “Hassan will accompany you when you go into the desert; he knows how to survive in that harsh environment and will assist you to do the same. I will keep an eye on the Professor and make sure he does not squirrel away any artefacts that should be handed over to Sayeed.”

“You think Crudwright will discover the building he seeks?” I said.
Mackay shook his head. “Sayeed believes Crudwright is searching for a pharaoh’s grave, and the riches buried with him. Akhenaten having a temple constructed in the area is a tale to put the Egyptians off the scent. Surely you do not believe the fanciful story?”

“I know nothing of archeology or the ancient Egyptians, but I believe Captain Guest has translated a text which points to some sort of building being constructed on the east bank of Lake Timsah. Rollo is not a liar.”

“Captain Guest may not be a liar, Colonel, but do not be fooled by the somewhat naïve and unsophisticated air he maintains.”

Before I could ask what he meant by the remark the party started for Timsah, MacKay, Rollo and I on horseback, Hassan on his donkey, with Crudwright and the three females in a carriage, with the half dozen Provincial Guards on camels bringing up the rear. We arrived at Timsah two days later, where the contractors and workers from Cairo had already arrived, ready to accompany us to the east bank of the lake.

“Sayeed knows that you and I are making a survey for a likely canal route from the Mediterranean to the Red Sea,” I said to Rollo. “And he believes Crudwight has no intention of looking for Akhenaten’s building but rather is searching for a pharaoh’s buried tomb to make off with the riches inside.”

“Professor Crudwright is many things but he is no grave robber, Colonel. He believes, rightly or wrongly, that Akhenaten had a building constructed somewhere in the area, and he will do his damndest to find it.”

We were about to set off on the mapping project. I tightened the cinches of my mount and swung into the saddle. I smiled at Mimi who although dressed in Moslem clothing had managed to mount her horse without too much difficulty. Hassan, astride his donkey, grinned at me as I pointed to the north and cried ‘Forwards!’
Rollo, Mimi, Hassan, and two camel mounted Provincial Guards followed me towards the northern edge of Lake Timsah. The guards each led a camel, one bearing cooking and camping equipment and the other theodolites and marker poles.

Lake Timsah was roughly triangular in shape, with the apex pointing south. It measured approximately half a mile at its widest part and was just over a mile long. There was a luxuriant growth of reeds and rushes along the shoreline, most of the species unknown to me but I recognised bull rushes.
Mackay had wanted to send more than two guards with us but I assured him we were well armed enough to see off any trouble.I had a brace of cap lock pistols, as did Mimi, who was as good a marksman as any man. Rollo had his flintlock pistol, Hassan had a blunderbuss, and the two guards had old but still reliable French Charleville muskets left over from the French invasion of 1798. I had not brought my broadsword but had acquired a scimitar, which I carried across my back in a baldric. I found the weapon useful for chopping firewood, and was confident it would do just as well at chopping flesh.

I thought Rollo would start his mapping from the location where the French believed the Pharaoh Canal entered Lake Timsah, but he explained any new canal would enter the lake from the north rather than from the west, as did, had, the Pharaoh Canal.

“When Sir Sidney Smith put a survey party ashore at El Said in eighteen hundred the person in charge was Lieutenant Remus Pare, an expert in topographical mapping.” Rollo said. “Lieutenant Pare noted that to the west of his intended route were irrigation ditches and channels, while to the east were many sand dunes. He set a compass bearing due south, traversing over slightly undulating land, terrain through which a canal would be the more easily constructed. In fact the land is so flat he considered no locks would be required between El Said and Lake Timsah.”

Rollo consulted the sheet of paper he held in his hand. He drove a measuring pole into the thin soil at the edge of the lake and then took a bearing due north. “If one continued Pare’s line of sight from El Said it would terminate here, on the northern shore of the lake. We will start mapping from this base line up to Al-Sharqîya, Colonel. Shall we begin?”

We made good progress, with Rollo and I using the theodolites and Hassan and the two Provincial Guards placing the measuring and siting poles. Mimi noted down all our measurements and calculations. I estimate we mapped a viable route of a proposed canal of some three miles when the sun finally set in a golden blaze in the west and we made camp.
Next day we made at least another six miles. As we made camp for the night I saw what appeared to be a tower about three miles away to the north east.

“Is that Al-Sharqîya?” I asked Hassan.

“No, Effendi Colonel, that is Bir el Findan. We go tomorrow, fill goatskins. Bir el Findan is place of victory over the French by Mehmet Ali Pasha, and has the oldest mosque in Egypt.”
Incidently Effendi is an Arabic honorific form of address, and means ‘master’. I had the impression Hassan, who was a cheeky little beggar, was using it in a mocking sense.

“Did you know of this place, Rollo? Any mention on the French maps, or in Lieutenant Pare’s notes?”

“There is nothing on the maps made by the French, and Sir Sidney Smith’s mapping party did not proceed further south than Al-Sharqîya,” he said.

Later that evening, before turning in for the night, Hassan dropped a pile of cotton clothing at my feet.

“We dress like Bedouins tomorrow, Effendi Colonel,” he said with a grin on his face. “You also, Missus Effendi Colonel. This is their country, and Egyptian females do not ride horses or camels.”
He handed me a long cotton garment, the thoab, which replaced my kaftan and silk shirt, but I retained my linen trousers. Hassan then demonstrated how to keep the shemagh, the head covering, fixed by the agal, a cord made from goat hair. Mimi kept her jilbaab, but exchanged her hijab for a usaba, a black hair band that is wrapped around the head and tied at the back, or the side, of the head.

Next morning Mimi, Hassan, and I, wearing our Bedouin clothing, made our way to Bir el Findan. Hassan led two camels carrying the many empty goatskins that would be filled at the well. Rollo and the two Provincial Guards, Omar and Amal – I never did know which one was which – continued with the mapping in our absence.
Rollo was surprised that Mimi and I were accompanying Hassan rather than assisting him, and I gave him an explanation.

“There is no record of Mehmet Ali ever defeating a French force, unless the French hushed up the event. I shall endeavour to get to the bottom of this tale, and at the same time Mimi will sketch the mosque reputed to be the first built in Egypt. Crudwright might find that fact illuminating.”

I was soon glad we had worn Bedouin garb, as the cotton thoab and shemagh were much cooler to wear than turban and kaftan.
Although it was late October the days were far warmer than any hot summer day in England. The weather had been bearable in Damietta and Cairo due to cooling breezes being wafted from the River Nile. On the journey to Timsah the effect of the Nile lessened and I had sweated under my turban and kaftan.

Out in the desert the sun seemed to burn with a greater intensity than when we were in the Delta area of Egypt. However, the nights were surprisingly cold. Mimi and I were glad to snuggle together in our tent, although we never needed an excuse to cuddle and make the beast with two backs. The warmth generated during our energetic couplings was an added delight to the sensuous pleasure derived. Mimi was in her more fervid mood, and I called on Doctor Potter’s assistance more than once. Mimi’s rapturous cries were part stifled on my neck, but Hassan remarked one morning, with a knowing and cheeky look on his face.