L^visiea DS 20 7 SrcttoD * 13 7 § THE LAND OF UZ s- MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited LONDON BOMBAY • CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd TORONTO THE AUTHOR. THE AUTHOR IN NATIVE DRESS Frontispiece \ THE LAND OF UZ BY ABDULLAH MANSUR (G. WYMAN BURY) WITH ILLUSTRATIONS MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED ST. MARTIN’S STREET, LONDON 1911 TO MY CHIEF AND ALL WHO HAVE SUPPORTED A FIRM HINTERLAND POLICY FOREWORD The Author is under obligations to Dr. J. Scott Keltie of the Royal Geographical Society for his painstaking scrutiny of this work, and to Mr. W. Morris Colles, for much valuable advice concerning its literary arrangement. He is also greatly indebted to its chief sponsor, Major-General Maitland, C.B. (formerly Political Resident at Aden), for his able and scholarly preface which may induce the attention of savants to such information as the book contains despite its anecdotal flippancy. PREFACE There are few regions still so little known to Europeans as Southern Arabia, ‘ the Land of Uz. 5 Yet it is a country of considerable geographical and historical interest. Once the seat of important kingdoms and possessing a great trade, it is still much more thickly inhabited than most people are aware. When the British Government agreed in 1901 to demarcate the boundary between the Aden hinterland and the Turkish possessions, it was a surprise to both the Home and Indian Foreign Offices to discover that the boundary line, instead of traversing a desert and almost uninhabited region, lay in fact across mountainous districts, containing many more or less fertile valleys, and at least as well populated as were the highlands of Scotland in the middle of the 18th century. The interior of the country is an elevated plateau, rising at the south-west corner to a height of 6000 feet, and sloping gradually to the east and north. The low-lying coastal plains do not usually extend to the foot of the scarp. There are intervening rocky ranges, running more or less parallel to the coast and the plateau, while the main scarp itself appears to be broken in places into one or two successive steps. The geography of the country is, how¬ ever, dealt with in greater detail, and with fuller knowledge in the following pages. Only it is permissible to mention X PREFACE that the western portion of the plateau, broken by hills and valleys is fertile for a width of perhaps ioo miles. This tract merges into the Dahna, or desert of red sand, the ‘ empty region, 5 which is of course the southern part of the great desert of Arabia, the northern extension of which (known as the Nefud) was traversed by Palgrave in 1862, and again by Mr. and Lady Anne Blunt on their journey to Hail in 1878-79. 1 It is well described in Lady Anne’s book, A Pilgrimage to Nejd. Mr. Bury was fortunate enough to be able to reach and cross the extreme S.W. corner of the Dahna where he met with a sufficiently exciting adventure. Travellers in this desert have often, it would seem, good reason to wish that it was actually as ‘empty 5 as it is called. Further, in reading Mr. Bury’s lively pages it should be remembered that the Dahna is an elevated tract. Mr. Bury does not give us any heights, but the southern edge of the desert is probably about 4000 feet above sea level. It is possible to suffer from cold in the Dahna as well as from heat. Yemen , the country ‘ on the right hand,’ (i.e. on the right of an observer at Mecca, looking eastward) is under¬ stood by Arabs as meaning the whole south-western portion of Arabia; where, strange as it may now appear, Arabian learning and Arabian arts had their early home. Here was the ancient and famous Kingdom of the Sabeans, whose queen Balkis visited Solomon, in order, tradition asserts, that she might have a son by that sovereign. The capital was Mareb, the great dam of which was reckoned one of the wonders of the world. Its ruins still exist, and 1 The journeys of Palgrave and the Blunts are best known, and their works most easily accessible, to English readers. But the Nefud has been traversed by other venturesome explorers ; Wallin in 1845, Guarmini in 1864, Huber in 1878. No European has yet crossed the Dahna. PREFACE xi were seen by a French traveller, Louis Arnaud, in 1843, and again by the Austrian Glazer in 1889, as well as by Halevy in 1870. The Sabeans were great traders. They furnished the civilised world, as it then existed, with frank¬ incense and myrrh, of much value in those days, and their richly woven stuffs were renowned. They also exported gold and ivory, ebony and precious stones, all of which they doubtless obtained from Africa. The Sabeans were in time supplanted by the Himyarites, who are apparently the same as the Mineans, and whose original country was almost certainly Hadramaut. The Himyarite kings ruled the greater part of Southern Arabia until well into the sixth century, by which time a large part of the inhabitants had become Christians. The oppression of the latter, apparently at the instigation of the Jews (Judaism was very prevalent in Arabia up to the time of Mahomed), provoked the interposition of the powerful Emperor of Abyssinia, and for a couple of generations (522 a.d. to 589) Yemen and Hadramaut were an Abyssinian province. The Abyssinians were then expelled with the aid of the Persians, and the latter seem to have been paramount until obliged to retire before the rising tide of Mahomedan conquests. But the glory of the country had then entirely departed, and for the last 1200 years there has been little or no change. Hadramaut has been rather loosely called a dependency of Yemen. In the maps of our day the name sprawls along the south-eastern coast of Arabia nearly all the way from Aden to Oman, covering a distance of six to eight hundred miles. And this may well indicate, in a general way, the extent of the country, from west to east, comprised in the Himyarite Kingdom at the time of the early geographers. XI1 PREFACE The real Hadramaut, however, that is the original state of the Himyarite kings, which succeeded Saba in the hege¬ mony of Southern Arabia, was probably a much smaller area. At the present time the name seems to be confined to the Hadramaut valley (Wadi Hadramaut) which was visited by Von Wrede in 1843, and has been as it were rediscovered for us by Hirsch the archseologist in 18 9 3 > and by the late Mr. J. Theodore Bent and his wife in the same year . 1 The ruins of the ancient capital Sabota (Shibwat) lie somewhere in or near the main valley, north¬ west of, and apparently not very far from the town of Shibam, which is in the territory of the Sultan of Mokalla. This district is, however, outside the region of ‘ Abdullah Mansur’s’ travels, though immediately adjacent to it on the east. Although the interior of South-western Arabia, as far as the desert, is in many places much more fertile than a view of the grim and desolate coast would lead one to suppose, there is reason for believing that 2000 to 3000 years ago, when the Sabean and Himyarite Kingdoms were flourishing, it was considerably more fertile than at present. The demon of dessication who has laid his desolating grip on so much of Central Asia, has also been at work in Arabia. More than one cause has probably contributed to the diminution of the rainfall, and consequent decrease of fertility. The subject is not one for discussion here, but a single fact may be adduced to show the strong probability that the precipitation of moisture was once much larger than at present. The well-known tanks at Aden are hewn to a great extent out of the solid rock, and must have been constructed with great labour. They date from early Himyarite if not from Sabean times, and 1 See Southern Jtrabia , Smith, Elder & Co., 1900* PREFACE xiu it can hardly be doubted that they formed the chief water supply of Aden, which has been for ages a town and port of consequence. This presupposes that the tanks would, in ordinary years, be filled with tolerable regularity by the rainfall of the S.W. monsoon. At the present day the tanks are absolutely dry for four years out of five, and the heaviest rainfalls since they were discovered and cleared out have not filled them to an eighth part of their full capacity. It therefore seems in a high degree probable that, at the period when the tanks were constructed, the rainfall at Aden was much greater than it is in our times ; and if greater on the coast it would presumably be greater also in the interior, and would reach further inland. There are ruins now well out in the desert which must, one would think, have been once surrounded by considerable areas of fertile and cultivated land. With regard to the ethnography of the country, it may be well to remind readers that the people of Arabia, though all ‘ Arabs, 5 belong to two distinct and apparently quite different races. The common idea of the Arab type is derived from picture books, and from travellers in Syria and Palestine, who unite in representing Arabs as tall bearded men, with clean cut hawk-like faces, and as Mrs. Bent says, ‘ much clothes. 5 These are the northern Arabs, perhaps the finest of the Semitic races. The Arabs of Southern Arabia are smaller, darker, coarser-featured, and nearly beardless. Their garments are so scanty that when I was Resident at Aden, chiefs coming in from distant parts of the hinterland had sometimes to be provided with clothes before coming up to the Residency for their formal interview. All authorities agree that the Southern Arabs are nearly related by origin, as well as by subsequent inter¬ marriage, to the Abyssinians. Yet, strange to say, it is XIV PREFACE this Egypto-African race who are the original and ‘ pure 5 Arabs, while the stately Semite of the north is ‘ Mustareb, 5 an ‘instituted 5 or ‘ adscititious 5 Arab, one who is Arab by adoption and residence, rather than by descent. Never¬ theless it is maintained by all Arabs that both races are the descendants of Shem; the ‘pure 5 Arabs through the half, or wholly, mythical Kahtan or Joktan, Shem 5 s great-great- grandson, and the northern Arabs as the children of Ismail (Ishmael) Abraham’s son by the slave girl Hagar. Even modern ethnographers apparently consider that there really was a common stock, existing far away back, perhaps long before the Sabean kingdom, from which both races are descended. The Sabeans and Himyarites were ‘pure 5 Arabs, and except that the custom of domestic slavery has given to their descendants a slight admixture of negro blood they probably did not differ much from the present inhabitants. We may be sure that in Sabean times there were, as now, the settled inhabitants—cultivators, townsmen and traders, and the desert dwellers, or ‘ Bedou 5 (Bedouins), roving within certain limits, and predatory. If Job was an Arab, as is generally supposed, he was very possibly a Minean. He was raided by Sabean Bedou from one direction, and by Chaldean freebooters from another. He lived, we are told in the land of Uz, and assuming that this was actually Southern Arabia, his dwelling would seem to have been pretty far to the north, perhaps in the unexplored country about the Wady Yabrin. Southern Arabia is still so little known, and contains so much of real interest, that such travels as those of Mr. Theodore Bent and Mr. Bury only serve to whet the appetite of the geographer and archaeologist. There is no one better qualified than ‘Abdullah Mansur 5 to PREFACE xv undertake an extended exploration, and it is much to be regretted that circumstances have hitherto prevented him from carrying it out. P. J. M. Bournemouth, 6th May , 1911. I' - . . . ■ . ' . . . CONTENTS PART I PAGE Introduction ------- xxi CHAP. I. The Littoral Belt and its Rulers. Some Palace Yarns ------ 3 II. The First Barrier Range. Subaihi Raiders. Turbulent Character of the Maritime Hillsmen - - - - - - - 13 III. The Amir of Dthala and his Subjects. Some Remarks on the Anglo-Turkish Boundary Commission of 1902. The Haushabi - - 17 IV. The Yafa Sultanates 28 V. Reminiscences of Tribal Risings in 1903 - 49 PART II I. Dathinah and its Sub-Tribes. Random Re¬ collections of Peace and War. Some Personal Silhouettes - - - - 107 II. The Great Kaur, the Backbone of South Arabia .137 b xviii CONTENTS CHAP. III. Lower AOlaki. The Ba-Kazim. A Race of Wine-Bibbers. Drunk on Escort Duty. Some Remarks on the Obligations of Convoy and Escort - IV. Upper Aulaki. The House of Maan. Yeshbum Valley. Shepherds’ Lore - V. The Yeshbum Route to the Upper AOlaki Capital. Reminiscences of Nisab. The Sultan ------- VI. The Desert Route to Behan. With the Sharif ------- VII. The Southern Route from Behan to Dahr via Nisab ------- VIII. Girl-Life in a Hill-Fortress. On the Dahr Plateau. The Status of Arab Women. Some Remarks on Marriage. The Nautch IX. The Southern Route from Nis£b to Dathinah X. Tribal Administration and Defence. Arms and the Man. The Social Code XI. Trade and Industries. Climate and Agricul¬ ture. Religious Views. Saints and Shrines. Superstitions ------ XII. Mounts and Men ------ XIII. Shikar (for the Information of Naturalists and Sportsmen) ------ Appendix A. History and Administration PAGE I56 I76 208 231 259 266 280 293 3°4 32 1 335 343 B. Outfit 349 ILLUSTRATIONS A The Author. The Author in Native Dress - Frontispiece FACING PAGE The Saluting Battery - - - - - - - io In the Heat of the Day - - - - - - n On the Palace Roof - - - - - - - n A Mixed Mounted Escort - - - - - - 17 t ' Camp of the Boundary Commission on Dthala Plateau 17 The Amir- - - • - - - - - 18 Members of the Local Jew Community - - - 18 Dthala (from the North) - - - - - - 20 Dthala (from the Amir’s Castle on top of the ridge) - 20 Ali Mehsin Askar and his Henchman 29 An excellent Shooting Pony - - - - - 57 Fort Salaik - - - - - - - - 71 Camel Sowar, Aden Troop - - - - - 71 Dthala Girls and Jew Attendant - - 109 Market-Day at an Up-Country Town - - 109 Told Off! - -.- 140 Hill-Girls - - - - - - - - 155 Aulaki Types - - - - - - - -188 Mosque of Sidi Mohamed, Nisab - - - - 213 Hillsmen (Marauding Types).233 b 2 XX ILLUSTRATIONS PACING PAGE A Noon-Day Bivouac-—between Nisab and Hauta A Quiet Wedding—Homeward Bound - A Descriptive Passage in the Nautch - A Nautch Troupe in Camp at an Upland Village Tribesman with Le Gras Rifle - Carpenters Sawing a Tree-Trunk into Planks A well-earned Smoke ------- On the Outskirts of a Merchant Settlement A fine Torso - -- -- -- - A Hill-Village with Millet Crops in foreground - ‘ Drilling ’. Plateau—with elevation 7000 feet above sea-level An Adenium Obesum, or ‘Ubub* - An Arab Horseman ------- The Undertaker (Vultur Gryphon) - The Ruins of a Hamyarite Fort, with Cement-lined Tanks for Storing Water - Young White Oryx from ‘The Empty Quarter’ (in charge of an Askari) - 263 277 278 278 296 30 1 3 01 302 3°2 3°4 3 11 3 11 3*3 3*3 335 335 339 Map at the end of Volume INTRODUCTION The literature of travel has now attained so formidable a bulk—due perhaps to the facilities of modern transport and the hand-camera—as to compel a certain diffidence in adding thereto. My justification for this work is based on the fact that the region dealt with, is still beyond the tide-mark of exploration, and since my researches there have been cut short by the precautions of a maternal Government, I choose this opportunity of making public some ten years’ intimate experiences of a people whose country will ever exercise a great fascination for me as the gateway of an unknown land. There one may step straight from this modem age of bustle and chicanery into an era of elemental conditions; where faithful friendship is jostled by the blackest treachery, and the crude facts of a semi-barbaric life are encountered at every turn ; while the glamour of an early civilization and a mighty creed gives one the impression of having stepped back in the pages of history to mediaeval times. This illusion is further enhanced by ancestral castles and a working feudal system. The book itself describes various districts of Southern Arabia from two distinct points of view. Part I. contains a brief description of tribes and sultanates in the Aden ‘ Protectorate ’—viewed from an official standpoint—and gives some account of our relations INTRODUCTION xxii with them through the Political Resident at Aden, who is also G.O.C. the troops at that station. The British Government has always endeavoured to establish and maintain friendly relations with the neigh¬ bouring tribes of the Aden hinterland, who are under certain treaty obligations with Government and receive subsidies, in return for which they undertake not to yield or grant any portion of their territory to another power, and to keep their trade-routes open for caravans. Some tribes outside the limits of the Protectorate have similar relations with Aden. Paramount chiefs of these tribes receive official entertainment when visiting the Resident, and may write letters of introduction entitling the bearers to official hospitality in accordance with their rank, provided, of course, that the chief in question is not under Government’s displeasure for disregarding his treaty obligations, as some¬ times happens. Official influence at Aden is always on the side of internal peace, while not interfering in tribal and inter-tribal politics unless compelled by force of circumstances. The causes which led up to the Anglo-Turkish Boundary Commission are briefly narrated in Chapter III., as also the paramount necessity of securing the safety of that Commission by means of a strong escort and a supporting column. (The Ottoman Government adopted similar measures for the safety of its own Commission.) The Arab attitude—as narrated in these pages—rendered cer¬ tain operations inevitable, and these attained such import¬ ance as to require the presence up country of the Resident in his dual capacity as chief Political Officer and G.O.C . 1 with a considerable force, in order that our Boundary Commission might continue its work. 1 Both ranks are included under the Arabic title of Willi. INTRODUCTION xxm Part II. deals with the remoter tribes of the Aden hinterland from the point of view of an explorer living among them and sharing—so far as an alien may— their interests and daily life. As to the title I have chosen—Arabian tradition places the ancient Kingdom of Uz between the districts of Oman and Yaman, that is the south-west corner of the peninsula where the exploits and magnificence of Shedad, grandson of Uz (their early king) and the overthrow of his idolatrous people by an overwhelming sand-storm, are still the theme of local bards who point to the ruins of regal palaces far out in the trackless wastes of the Great Red Desert in support of the legend. This mysterious region known invariably among the Arabs as Ruba A1 Khali or the Empty Quarter, separates Southern Arabia from the independent province of Nejd, and Oman from the Hejaz and Yaman. When Hud (Heber the prophet) failed in his mission to convert the idolatrous people of Uz, this tract is said to have been fertile and prosperous, dotted here and there with garden-cities and magnificent palaces. Across it lay a direct and convenient route to Mecca which even in those early days was the religious centre of Arabia ; but the raging simoom which is said to have annihilated that obdurate race also obliterated the caravan-route and rendered the country impassable. The one feat that it has long been my ambition to attempt is to cross this desert and for this purpose the most practicable entry is through Aden. Travellers on the great ocean high-road to the East are apt to regard Aden as a necessary infliction of their voyage, and—if in Government service—connected with the pious hope that their lot may never be cast there. Turning from its XXIV INTRODUCTION inhospitable peaks to gaze across the harbour at a low sandy coast-line sparsely covered with scrub and quivering with mirage, they observe the low ranges of black sterile hills beyond, and decide that they have seen a fair sample of Arabia Felix, an epithet they attribute to the irony of ancient geographers. Beyond these low barren hills extends a series of plateaux broken up by scattered spurs, and intersected by wadis or dry river-beds—most of which run in a southerly direction and rise in the great main range beyond. These watercourses come down in violent spate when heavy rains have fallen in the hills; then some of the larger ones reach the sea. Of these the most important are the Tiban which bifurcates north of Lahej and waters that oasis with its two branches—Wadi El Kabir and Wadi-Es-Saghir (the Big and Little Wadis), and the Bana which in time of flood cuts its way through the sand-bar at its mouth, to the sea, some forty miles east of Aden. Then fishermen frequently take in their nets fresh-water cray-fish from the highlands of Turkish Arabia. Both streams rise on the Yaman plateau, but the Bana is far the larger of the two and holds some good fish in its upper reaches. The Hadramaut, which name is sometimes vaguely given to the whole of this region north and east of Aden, cannot be called a river, but is a huge valley running down from the borders of the Great Red Desert to the sea-coast, some two hundred miles east of Aden in a general south¬ easterly direction. Its name signifies ‘the Presence of Death, 5 owing to a report fostered by wily merchants— who drove a prosperous trade there in ancient times—that its very air was poisonous. It enjoys an excellent climate as does most of the Hinterland, and still grows a large quantity of frankincense and myrrh. INTRODUCTION XXV The rainfall on the coast-line is, except for a few cold- weather showers, non-existent; and even as far inland as the system of plateaux alluded to above, is very scanty. The herds, which consist almost entirely of goats— frequently go without water for many weeks and have learnt to pull up and chew the fleshy roots of a species of cactus in order to quench their thirst. I accepted this statement with reserve when I first heard it from an up- country shepherd, but I afterwards found it to be a fact. Moreover there is definite proof that the fat camels which the Somalis turn out to graze on their waterless Haud (or up-country plateau), and keep for meat and not as beasts of burden, are only brought to the wells once every six months or so. They appear to thrive in that region on the fresh green mimosa whose deep-striking roots reach moisture quite unattainable to man. In these plateaux, irrigation is unknown, the few wells there are, being of great depth and only supplying sufficient water for human needs and to keep alive the small stock of cows and sheep, in time of drought. Agriculture is therefore at a discount, but torrential thunder-storms fall at irregular intervals in the summer and permit the cultivation of ‘ heimar 5 or red millet. Beyond these plateaux, which vary considerably in extent and are some 3000 feet above sea-level, lies the main mountain system, the back-bone of South Arabia. In the districts north-east of Aden this range is known as the Kaur—a sheer wall-like rampart, varying between 7000 and 9000 feet above sea-level. Continuations of it run eastwards towards Ras Fartak at the mouth of the Persian Gulf, and merge westwards in the highlands of Yaman ; the system is said to extend up the coast as far north as Mecca. XXVI INTRODUCTION The range, wherever I have crossed it, has always presented certain characteristics. It is metamorphic, being chiefly granite, its southern slope is always abrupt, while northwards it descends gradually by a series of terraces and foot-hills towards the broad open plains which merge into the Great Red Desert. The main range, and a broad belt of country north and south of it are marvellously fertile, and—except in the more inaccessible mountain districts—in a high state of cultivation. There is a regular and adequate rainfall in the summer, while in the cold weather a dense wet fog comes up at dusk and lies till nearly 9 a.m., supplying sufficient moisture to avoid any break in agriculture. Coffee, indigo, cotton, maize, bearded wheat and barley and millet, are grown in abundance, also peaches, roses and vegetables of all sorts—except potatoes, and a fair quantity of tobacco. Dates are grown, but not enough for home consumption, grapes do well in sheltered valleys, at an altitude of about 5000 feet. They are a small black variety and the vines grow like gooseberry bushes, no attempt being made to train them. There are several rock-salt quarries on the southern margin of the Great Red Desert, but transport is hazardous owing to the number of marauding bands of nomads that patrol that region. The Kaur mountaineers too have a bad name for raiding among their lowland neighbours to the southwards; the speedy retribution dealt out by the more energetic sultanates north of the main range, tending to make incursions in that direction unpopular. Now I think that enough has been said to give a general bird’s-eye view of the country. Let us first consider the low-lying coast-line, with its hot, almost rainless, littoral belt of sand, scrub and saline plain, known as the INTRODUCTION XXVll Tihama or ‘place of heat. 5 There are a few crudely worked bay-salt pans along the coast, and a little desultory pearling, while several valuable guano deposits exist, but the local tribes are there so cantankerous, treacherous and weakly governed that blackmail prohibits all enterprise. Even in the fiery Tihama however, the climate is not unhealthy for those who can stand the fierce heat of the day, and the nights are always cool and bracing. Then however, the cultivated oases and river-beds which afford grateful shade by day, should be avoided as fever-traps. The Tiban valley and in fact the Lahej oasis in general, has an ill name for malaria of a malignant type which is very apt to recur long after convalescence, on return to a temperate climate. The littoral belt varies in width from some thirty miles to less than three. It is backed by maritime ranges of black metamorphic hills,—barren, on their southern slopes save along the wadis which intersect them. This region is very thinly populated by semi-nomadic pastoral tribes, each ranging within its own limits as the scanty grazing and water supply dictate. There are very few fixed settlements—until we reach the more open plateaux beyond where agriculture finds a footing, and there are a few villages, for whose protection (or coercion) a certain number of hill- fortresses are perched among the intersecting ranges. As we approach the Kaur, the country becomes more heavily timbered and larger villages occur with a few important townships, while the. main range, though possessing no towns of any size, is thickly dotted with strong fighting-towers, which dominate flourishing settle¬ ments and well-farmed land. On the northern slopes and plateaux the settlements are on a larger scale and there are wider tracts of cultivation, XXV111 INTRODUCTION larger markets and industries, stronger government, and flourishing towns. Hitherto Lahej alone in the Tihama (except a few ports further east such as Shehr and Makalla) is worthy of the name of town, and it owes its security and perhaps its continued existence to the aegis of British rule, as the population is unwarlike and has in the past been at the mercy of any organised raid from up-country. Still further north, settlements become smaller and more scattered as we approach the Empty Quarter until we come upon the typical homes of the desert nomads—the black tents of woven goat-hair. Beyond these is a nightmare region of rolling sand, isolated scarps and the jinn-haunted ruins of eld, from which the present generation occasionally pilfers building material—if within convenient distance and of portable size—but stands in superstitious awe of these relics of a mighty past. Here and there ruined palaces, and temples to Baal or Astaroth, peep up across the desert, or crowning some slight eminence defy alike the obliterating pall or the insidious erosion of the driving sand. Their massive beauty is still eloquent of former grandeur. Sand-silted and weathered black by the fervent sun they crouch on guard facing the void throughout the arid centuries, their silent halls that once rang with the tramp of mail-clad guards or echoed to princely revelry, now the home of the puff-adder and an occasional desert fox. Concerning this lonely region, an eminent geographer 1 has said: “It may hide anything you like to imagine within its secret area, three times the size of these islands of ours. We know just as much or as little of it as the Moslem geographers knew in the Middle Ages—and that is all! 55 G. WYMAN BURY. 1 Hogarth—before the Royal Geographical Society (November, 1908). PART I BEING A DESCRIPTION OF THE ADEN PROTECTORATE AND CERTAIN OPERATIONS THEREIN / CHAPTER 1 THE LITTORAL BELT AND ITS RULERS SOME PALACE YARNS Allusion has already been made to the oasis of Lahej. Its ruler is by far the wealthiest of our neighbouring chiefs. His people—the Abdali—are more agricultural than warlike, but his wealth enables him to command the military services of the more virile population in the mari¬ time ranges, when engaged in the coercion of his refractory vassals. He exercises suzerainty over certain sections of the Subaihi, who also come under Turkish influence along their north-western border. The Sultans of Lahej formerly held the peninsula of Aden, but an outrage perpetrated by the Abdali on a ship¬ wrecked crew and the absence of any satisfaction compelled us to bombard and afterwards occupy the town of Aden in 1839. Once a fine commercial port (in the days of Sulei¬ man the Magnificent), it had degenerated to a squalid native township whose chief industry was fishing, although vestiges of its former mercantile prosperity still remained. During the earlier days of the British occupation the Abdali made several abortive attempts to retake Aden. In one of these they were persuaded by a smooth-tongued mullah that if they put aside all sinful thoughts and adopted white raiment, emblematic of inward purity— 4 THE LAND OF UZ they would carry all before them, and be invulnerable to the unhallowed weapons of the infidel. In simple faith and spotless white they tried to rush the Barrier Gate of the fortress, armed merely with sticks and staves. The officer in charge of the defensive works which then commanded the gate—having once grasped the serious nature of the attempt—directed on them a fire before which they wavered, broke, and fled precipitately. On rebuking their spiritual guide he roundly abused them, attributing their disastrous failure to having secretly harboured in their sinful hearts unrighteous thoughts anent the women of the infidel garrison. The Sultanate has long since abandoned all idea of the reconquest of Aden—in fact receives a yearly subsidy for our occupation of the town of Sheikh-Othman—across the harbour. We also lease a large area of land in the neck of the isthmus which we in turn have let on a long lease to an Italian company who make a good revenue out of an extensive system of salt-pans. But little need be said of the other littoral potentates under discussion. East of the Abdali lies the Fadli Sultanate whose capital—Shukra—is a mere fishing village compared to Lahej, although its position on the conver¬ gence of several caravan routes from the northern and eastern districts enables its ruler to collect somewhat onerous transit dues, and hamper traffic generally. This obstruction is aggravated by the fact that cadets of the ruling house are settled further in on the road to Aden in the oasis of Abyan, which owes its fertility to Wadi Bana and other streams. Here the luckless coasting trader finds himself bled a second time before he can resume his journey. Another drawback to the littoral route east of Aden, is that the water supply is scanty—except in Abyan THE LITTORAL BELT and many of the wells are liable to afflict unseasoned travellers with varied and acute internal symptoms. The Arab lays great stress on the strength and virtues of water in certain districts but is not very particular about the purity of its source. There is a very deep well just outside Asala—a large half-ruined village in Abyan (bombarded by us many years ago). I and my party watered there once at sunrise after a night’s march, previous to forming our noonday bivouac among the ruins, and a girl brought me coffee, as I sat smoking under the shadow of a crumbling wall. “I hope the coffee is all right,” she remarked. ‘ ‘ B’la shik—Of course,” I replied politely. “ That’s to say,” she resumed, “Auntie fell down the well yesterday (I felt my scalp tingling under my turban) and we’re waiting for father to come back to try and hook her out—he’s gone to cut two grapple-sticks.” “ When did it happen ? ’’ I asked with unfeigned concern. “Just after sunset.” I felt relieved, and volunteered to fetch the body up. She thanked me courteously but suggested waiting until her father returned from the timber-belt, some time in the afternoon. “ I’d sooner try at once,” was my rejoinder, “ I would really,” and I departed to collect reliable rope from my camel-men, as the well-rope was old and frayed. I have been down several wells in the littoral desert and have never known well-gas to occur, and there is seldom more than a yard of water. The only risk is of the bight slipping and return¬ ing the victim to you with emphasis, which happened once when sending a girl up out of a well at my own village. (Dar Mansur.) She was alive and kicking, and slipped through the bight just after she left my arms, giving me a. fearful blow on the nose with her heel. THE LAND OF UZ In the present case the shaft was nearly twice the depth of the Mansuri well and I knew I should not find the poor old soul alive. The sound portion of the local well-rope with all the camel-halters, the pony’s reins and my turban, reached all right, and the slight wasted body arrived at the surface without mishap. I followed, and made a more careful examination than was possible below—knee-deep in water. Her neck was broken as I had surmised from the position in which she lay. There were no other obvious injuries. This is not a very nice story, yet— like the water—it might have been worse. About twenty miles east of Shukra, away inland, some four miles from the coast, is Sunah—the country quarters of the Fadli Sultan. I can’t call it a shooting-box, as there is nothing to shoot except a few stray chinkara (or ravine gazelle). On the contrary, its primary object seems to have been a refuge from shooting, according to the late Sultan. He sometimes fell back on this strong¬ hold when he was in more than usually hot water with an outraged but long-suffering Government for a particularly flagrant case of blackmailing caravans, or light-hearted acts of similar purport which involved the boarding of occasional dhows off Shukra. These were regarded by an unbending officialdom—ignoring their real humour—as piracy. His Highness admitted his error in this latter case. I ought of course to have tackled those dhows on their way back from Aden, but then they’ve nothing on board worth taking. Why, some of those merchants actually bank the proceeds of their sales, at Aden! You know how strictly the Koran forbids such transactions.” He was a very religious man, and strictly orthodox_ fanatically so in fact for he would neither smoke, nor allow others to smoke in his presence. Otherwise he THE LITTORAL BELT 7 was good company, being an excellent conversationalist, possessed of a charming personality, and a truly regal bearing. He always levied heavy blackmail on me when¬ ever I passed Shukra outward-bound, but was so nice about it that one felt he had conferred a personal favour. I only ‘ did 5 him once, and that was when I made a flying rush up-country on the occasion when I struck trouble in Maran. 1 Unkind people pointed the finger of surmise at Shukra for its source, inasmuch as I had, for once, bluffed the local patrols whom rumours of my approach had made specially alert. I dispensed with a caravan and indued my pony with native saddlery (she nearly kicked herself into a fit in her early efforts to get rid of it). Then, donning the guise of a travelling ‘ seyid,’ and making my orderly reassume tribal kit, we waited outside Shukra, off the road, till the moon was veiled, and slipped past. It was no use going wide of Shukra; we should only have blundered into their vedettes, and would have had to explain why we were off the road; so we followed the usual track between town and palace, beneath whose very walls an inlying picquet challenged us, escorted us on to our route, and invoked my blessing! I hadn’t anticipated this, which was carrying my assumed identity rather too far, but I couldn’t back out then, and gave it with aplomb—for they probably needed one— most palace asakir do. Anyhow, they required it later —about 2 a.m.—when they reported to the Sultan. As soon as they mentioned the colour of the pony, he grasped the situation, and sent mounted asakir after us; but ‘ the Missis ’ was above the ordinary palace pony, and my orderly’s bahri 2 was also a good beast, so, as we expected pursuit, we were over the Arkub pass by dawn; 1 March 1903 (Part II. chap. I.). 2 Trotting-camel. 8 THE LAND OF UZ nor did we halt until we reached Mishal. On my return, wounded, there was a satirical twinkle in H.H.’s eye as he condoled on my misfortune, but that is no evidence; and, anyhow, to instigate murder is much less annoying than to circulate slander, and far more sporting. Of course there is a certain amount of Fadli influence up on Maran, but even if the incident were connected at all with the palace, which is doubtful, I am quite sure that the original intention was to have me stopped, not killed. East of the Fadli some thirty miles beyond Shukra is the lower Aulaki border. Very little traffic comes through this way the Ba-Kazim not being a productive race, while the Upper Aulaki prefer the Shukra route—from the north. The Abdul Wahid Sultanate is too remote to carry on a caravan trade through two intervening tribeships, and such trade as it has, is usually sea-borne, there being several good harbours, though all are open to the monsoon. All these sultanates are hampered to a certain extent by the turbulence of rebellious vassal-tribes. The Abdul Wahid Sultan is frequently a prisoner at his walled capital of Izzan for months, owing to the local hillsmen being out of hand. The Fadli Sultan, from the maritime position of his capital, is in better case, but the littoral range just beyond Shukra is barely five miles off -too close to the palace to be pleasant when the moun¬ taineers have got a grievance. Lahej is better situated, within the fork of the Tiban in the middle of a broad fertile plain thickly dotted with villages, but the outskirts of the oasis are frequently raided by the Subaihi, and it is only the presence of British troops at Aden which ensures the town from the onslaught of an organised expedition by the warlike THE LITTORAL BELT 9 tribes of the North-East. Before the establishment of British rule at Aden the Upper Aulaki actually launched such an expedition which stormed the town, and, investing" the palace, was only bought off in time to avoid what would probably have been a successful assault. The caravan traffic of the eastern littoral consists chiefly of trade between the big inland towns and such markets as Lahej and Aden. This has fallen off consider- ably of late years, owing to the disturbed nature of the country. Nor have the littoral tribes any industries of note, and they consume their own produce. Lahej, however, besides being an important agricultural centre, forms an advanced market for fabrics and manufactured articles from Aden, which she supplies with fodder, vegetables and firewood, and also levies transit dues on the Yaman trade. This consists principally of coffee and the young shoots and leaves of the Kat (Katha edulis)^ which flourishes on the Yaman plateau and along the main range of the Kaur, and is regarded as a great luxury by civilised Arabs at Aden and Lahej. They chew the leaves which contain exhilarant properties analogous to theine and caffeine. There is an important community of native blacksmiths at Lahej, who turn out large numbers of dagger and sword blades as well as match-locks and domestic hardware, but her commercial importance is due chiefly to her situation as a market between Aden and the Hinterland. Lahej palace (known as the Hautah) is one of the most imposing buildings anywhere on the littoral belt. It might almost be termed a series of buildings, and is of very mixed architecture. The earliest portion is of Italian design, in cement and masonry, but building operations are always going on, and the present Sultan has erected a 10 THE LAND OF UZ stone palace; the work of his predecessors—ambitious soaring structures of mud and sun-baked brick—having become unsafe. Their life rarely exceeds half a century even in that dry climate, for occasional showers do a lot of damage by causing unequal strains which produce perilous cracks and fissures in all directions. The palace lies on the southern edge of the town, overlooking a large square where the Sultan’s troops are reviewed on state occasions. They are intended chiefly for display, being retainers of non-fighting strain, held together by a sort of feudal system—(in real emergencies tribal levies are generally used)—but they make a brave show on gala days with gaudy turbans and coloured kilts. All have breech-loaders of some pattern, generally sporting Martinis. Their most hazardous occupation consists in assisting the Turkish renegade gunner at the saluting battery, which faces southward off the square, and holds two muzzle-loading guns of Crimean pattern. These are served with native-made powder and old sacking, and are ‘ touched off ’ by the cautious application of a match-lock fuse at the end of a long bamboo. They manage to get off a royal salute of 121 guns during the hours of daylight. Some years ago the Sultan erected a grisly-looking gallows in a corner of this square to over-awe evil-doers, but he could never bring himself to hang anyone on it, not for lack of candidates, but for fear of showing invidious distinction. When I last saw it, small boys were taking advantage of its eminence to obtain a good view of a ceremonial parade. There is a fair number of well-bred horses at Lahej from up-country, but the fierce heat of the lowlands and their confined life enervate them. The elite of the stud are picketed fore and aft like battleships in a tide-way THE SALUTING BATTERY. To face page 10. IN THE HEAT OF THE DAY ON THE PALACE ROOF. To face page n THE LITTORAL BELT ii and, rendered morose by seclusion and the constant attacks of mosquitoes and sand-flies, prove troublesome to their attendants. Lahej has a charm all its own for those who can stand its malarious climate. There are miles of date-groves and heavily-scented gardens of lime, orange, banana and coco¬ nut, among which one may linger in the heat of the day, with an occasional dip into an irrigation channel, listening to the liquid, nightingale tones of the bush-cuckoo ; or, standing on the palace-roof at sunset, while the muezzin’s call comes faintly down the wind, see the lamps twinkle forth from the casements of the town. The evening breeze whispering across the tall plumes of the twelve- foot jowari-crops, though bringing fever in its wake, is grateful and refreshing, and disposes one to linger up there till dusk brings the sound of female laughter and the tinkling music of the zither from the open windows of the harem, where the palace-ladies, under cover of darkness, are observing the Ferenghi and criticising his appearance. A few hours may be well spent in the private audience- room from which the Sultan hurls admonitions and sentences through the window to clients and prisoners below, avoiding the casement itself, as involving the risk of a vengeful shot from some unknown quarter. I once saw the ancient ordeal of the red-hot knife administered below this window. The case was one of theft from a caravan; two men were implicated, one a palace slave, the other a young Arab, a native of the oasis. Each accused the other, and there was a good deal of cross-swearing. Finally, both invoked the ordeal of the knife. In due course a venerable Arab appeared, bringing the instrument with him, which had been in his family 12 THE LAND OF UZ for generations and conferred the hereditary right to administer the ordeal. It seemed a very ordinary piece of hoop-iron in the rough semblance of a knife-blade some eighteen inches long with the name and attributes of Allah engraved thereon—and fitted with a plain wooden haft. An attendant brought a bowl of water, and a brazier of live charcoal in which the knife-blade was inserted. The Arab youth, as the challenging party, received the ordeal first. He repeated his asseverations of innocence, and rinsing out his mouth with water put out his tongue, which was seized at the tip by the owner of the knife, who drew the instrument glowing dull red from the brazier and with it smote three light blows across the victim’s tongue, which was then projected for scrutiny. It merely showed slight white marks where the hot iron had fallen. The slave’s turn then came, and whether he flinched at the contact of the hot iron or had failed to keep his tongue sufficiently moist I cannot say, but the heat of the blade picked a small patch of skin off and showed a bleeding surface, which, according to the rules of the ordeal, pronounced his guilt, and he was led away to durance vile. I had nearly omitted to mention our next door neigh¬ bours—the Akrabi, a small tribe adjoining British territory west of Sheikh Othman. They are ruled by a sultan who resides at Bir Ahmed. His ‘ palace ’ may be seen from Aden harbour. The fact that I know very little about him is a compli¬ ment to the even tenor of his sway. CHAPTER II THE FIRST BARRIER RANGE. SUBAIHI RAIDERS TURBULENT CHARACTER OF THE MARITIME HILLSMEN In view of the wide difference in type, character, environ¬ ment and actual terrain, the term ‘ barrier 5 may not inaptly be applied to the black sinister chain of sterile hills that divides the lowland or littoral plain from the inland plateau. Its broken series of distorted ranges, coupled with the ill-repute of its denizens, conveys the impression of wolves crouched at gaze with furtive vigilance towards the oases and caravan-routes below. This suggestion is strengthened by their weird low-lying contour, and occasional up-lifting of twin triangular peaks—erect as ears a’cock; and though the metaphor may seem far¬ fetched, I think a trip with a few camel-loads of valuable merchandise unescorted by the usual tribal guard, would perhaps furnish an illustration. There is, it is said, honour among thieves, and no doubt this virtue characterizes the members of that ancient craft in varying degree. If so, the tribes of the first maritime range foot the list, their moral standard being marked by so small a quantity as to be barely appreciable—a mere trace in fact, for they are the scourge of the lowlands and the pariahs of the better THE LAND OF UZ 14 organised races further north. Treacherous, dishonest and covetous, yet without the pluck and cohesion for open raids driven home by force of arms, they waylay and murder the defenceless traveller, and betray the guest whom they have undertaken to protect. They steal cattle and other stock by night only, preferring speedy beasts such as saddle-camels; ponies they avoid, lacking the expert horsemanship of the Desert raiders, and dreading their noisy movements, for they rely on stealth and cunning of design rather than dash and boldness of execution. To give them their due, how¬ ever, they are stubborn fighters when the day is going against them—fighting desperately and with judgment when cornered, quick to press home any temporary advantage. They are skilful skirmishers, possessing re- markable mobility and the intuitive instinct of self- preservation. Such men can carry on guerilla warfare with effect and vim, harassing troops by incessant sniping, and declining an engagement except on their own terms, when they usually strike at the line of communications, or ambuscade isolated patrols. If trained and led by European officers who studied their character and learned how to mould it, they should prove useful as scouts and observation-patrols, for they have a wonderful eye for country, and their minds are both observant and retentive. Unfortunately, their fierce intractable disposition makes them difficult for the average European to handle, and there is no doubt that the higher ideals of honour and fidelity possessed by the more pros- sperous tribesmen further inland would furnish a far more reliable type for alien service. The most notorious of these covert free-booters are members of the Subaihi tribe, which is separated by a THE FIRST BARRIER RANGE 15 convenient tract of desert from Lahej, its eastern border being some twenty miles west of the oasis, enough to prevent the sudden pounce of retributive justice and to shake off importunate pursuit after a successful foray. Nor should the reader imagine that these wily brigands are incapable of bold offensive tactics—they have attacked a British post during our maintenance of troops at Dthala on more than one occasion, for the sheer excitement of the escapade. It is well within the memory of most adults how they lured a punitive force—launched from Lahej by the late Sultan—into a labyrinth of foot-hills, and held up the dispensers of retributive justice so effectually, that only the weight of Aden diplomacy extricated the expedition at the price of surrendering all claims to control the administration of the refractory tribesmen. They now manage their own affairs, although the present Sultan of Lahej maintains some slight influence over the adjacent clans, more especially the principal village of Um-Riga, which, being accessible from Lahej, admits his suzerainty. But the bulk of the tribe is pastoral and nomadic, possessing few accessible villages through which effective chastisement might be administered. Once, the present Sultan sent a force equipped with a real and not entirely obsolete field-piece against a refractory clan just across the Subaihi border. They found the family at home and were defied from the loop-holes and parapet of a most substantial tower. This emerged unscathed from a pro¬ longed bombardment, having only been hit twice (once by the lucky fluke of an amateur ‘ layer’), while, the range being only 800 yards, the malcontents scored several casualties among the gun’s crew. They were eventually left to their evil courses as irreclaimable reprobates, so hopelessly abandoned as to receive unmoved, nay, even 1 6 THE LAND OF UZ with symptoms of graceless ribaldry, the announcement of the Sultan’s displeasure; that dread ban provoking derisive comment. A party from this same clan once planned and carried out a spirited night attack on one of our posts, only withdrawing at dawn, when the harassed officer in charge accelerated their departure by firing percussion shell after them from two antiquated 9 pr. M.L.’s, mounted there chiefly for moral effect. The local tribesman respects any well-served gun even in the open, and the retreat was hurried. On official protest at this aggressive act, the senior chiefs concerned replied jauntily that while regret¬ ting the occurrence, “young men would occasionally have their fun, and that times were dull with but little available excitement,” adding that they failed to realise our grounds for complaint since there were no serious casualties among the garrison of the post, while the surprise party had lost two men and incurred other casualties of a more or less serious nature. A MIXED MOUNTED ESCORT (p. 21). CAMP OF THE BOUNDARY COMMISSION ON DTHALA PLATEAU. To face page 17. CHAPTER III THE AMiR OF DTHALA AND HIS SUBJECTS SOME REMARKS ON THE ANGLO-TURKISH BOUNDARY COMMISSION OF 1902. THE HAUSHABI It is doubtful whether even Arabia with all her intrigues, plots and coups d' hat can produce a more striking example than the Amir of Dthala to illustrate the harried victim of destiny with greatness thrust upon him. The Amir, a kindly and (to outward semblance only) simple old man, of slight build with a gentle voice and a sweet pensive smile, appeared obviously fitted to lead the life of a patriarchal chief in a peaceful district.—Yet when I first knew him, the web of his destiny had become a very tangled skein, the unravelling of which moved him to dismal forecasts and lamentations. In his own inner soul I believe the wily old strategist enjoyed the process. He occasionally aroused the just indignation of some zealous ‘ political 5 against an erring tribe which the Amir had long wished to chasten but always considered the undertaking too formidable. I have then caught a fleeting look of pious satisfaction on the old diplomat’s face, while he expressed a hope that they would not resist the wishes and ultimatum of the ‘ excellent Government,’ all the time knowing for the best of reasons that his refractory vassals would ‘ take it fighting.’ More power to his 18 THE LAND OF UZ elbow! May his declining years be peaceful: he has had more than his share of the troubles and anxieties attached to South Arabian rule. To begin with, his district, a fertile plateau across which runs an important caravan route from Yaman to Aden, invited encroachment, situated as it was at the apex of a wedge thrust into Yaman, unprotected by any natural barrier and within an easy day’s march of Kataba (a strong Turkish post). Previous to the arrival of our Boundary Commission the aggressive attitude of the Turkish Arab levies had driven him off the plateau to take refuge at a village at the foot of its southern slope, where he always kept quarters in readiness as a pied a terre ; for a strong Turkish force lay within gun-shot of Dthala at Jalelah, as escort to their Boundary Commission, which also held a strong tactical position mounting some modern field-pieces, and could have overwhelmed our slender escort at that time if so desirous; this got on his nerves. In addition, he had frequent trouble with his turbulent vassals, as will be shown later; his vicinity to the border of the lawless Upper Yafii was a constant menace, and to crown all, he had domestic worries which need not be fully specified here-—suffice it to say that with reference to his sons he disliked the eldest, who outraged his thrifty instincts by living occasionally beyond his allowance (which, to do him justice, was slender enough) and running up bills with members of the local Jew community, one of whom he artistically shot through the leg for persistent dunning. The old man had to square matters, for there the Jews possess wealth and influence, and are, in fact, a strong, well-organised community, with a finger in most commercial enterprises. The second son was actually THE AMIR (SEATED). His eldest son is on his left, a vassal-chief on his right, between these is an Aden Government interpreter. MEMBERS OF THE LOCAL JEW COMMUNITY. To face page 18 19 THE AMIR OF DTHALA estranged and kept aloof in an isolated village, while the youngest, his father’s favourite—a young rascal of some ten summers—already had an establishment of his own where he entertained nautch girls and other undesirable characters, while causing constant anxiety by his escapades. He had been spoiled from infancy, and was quite beyond parental advice or control, albeit a dashing little fellow and with good stuff in him, apart from his self-will. An attempt was made to send the boy to a school for native princelings in India, but the old man would adroitly shelve the scheme-—labelled with his abstract approval—unable to face the actual separation. The juvenile autocrat himself, though lured by the prospect of change and travel, did not relish the idea of discipline. He afterwards accompanied his father to the Delhi Durbar and received much attention from various ladies —no doubt attracted by his childish dignity and romantic appearance, for he looked like a cherub in raw sienna— the precocious deeps of depravity beneath that ingenuous surface being mercifully unrevealed to his admirers. Unimpressed by this homage, or the magnificence around him, he denied India the cachet of his blase approval, and frankly expressed himself to me as bored by the whole excursion. He thus demolished a prospect of systematic education which might have given an able and enlightened ruler to that little district, for he had no real vice, judged by the standard of his race and class, while possessing both courage and resolution. He was no harem-nurtured milksop, but a daring little horseman of steadfast nerve, for on one occasion, having commandeered his eldest brother’s new sporting .303 carbine—made more for show than for use—he was indulging in a little surreptitious target practice when a blast of back-gas 20 THE LAND OF UZ from a faulty ‘case 5 sent the rotten bolt flying from the locking-lug over his shoulder, grazing his face, which was laid open by a nasty gash. Half-stunned by the shock, he merely emitted a contemptuous negative to reassure the agonised enquiries of his retainers, and rode off to our camp in the hopes of getting the jim-crack weapon sufficiently patched up to avoid detection, cheerfully dis¬ regarding his own injuries and narrow escape. On the arrival of our Boundary Commission at Dthala, further troubles were added to the Amir’s existence. The local riff-raff exhibited that surly ill-conditioned spite which so often marks the demeanour of a non-combatant population rescued from previous oppression, becoming more and more outrageous in proportion to the forbear¬ ance and generosity with which it it regarded, until acts of serious aggression occur. From village-eyries on pinnacles above their route, first vituperation and then stones would be hurled on our escort when out on route-march, and this caused the Amir much anxiety, while beyond his power to prevent. The district was thoroughly out of hand, for the populace expected to see us driven off the plateau any night by an overwhelming attack from the Turkish camp. Finding that our conciliatory attitude forbade reprisals, their insolence passed all bounds, until a strong supporting column came up from Aden in the autumn. This secured our military position and prestige, and—little influenced by Commission policy—treated unprovoked aggression with drastic emphasis, which discouraged these gentle villagers. I do not, however, intend to serve a rechauffe of Commission affairs, which would form a book in them¬ selves and have little to do with our present subject. DTHALA—FROM THE NORTH. (The Amir’s castle is on the sky-line.) DTHALA (FROM THE AMIR’S CASTLE ON TOP OF THE RIDGE). To face page 20, THE AMIR OF DTHALA 21 Allusion has been made to the Amir’s eastern neighbour —Upper Yafa. West of the Amiri, an intricate series of lofty hills culminates in the Jihaf ridge, which overlooks Dthala, and acts as a natural barrier against the Haushabi. This is a large and somewhat turbulent tribe under the nominal rule of a Sultan residing at Musemir in a fortified stronghold which, with a few huts and private dwellings, compose the settlement. Musemir stands on a small plateau overlooking the left bank of the Tiban barely 12 miles from the Yaman border, across which, within a few days’ easy march, lie two large towns Taiz and Mawia, each the centre of a Turkish brigade district and connected with Musemir by converging caravan tracks—the main southern route for Yaman trade. Early in 1901 the Haushabi Sultan, then a confirmed invalid, complained that a neighbouring sheikh, who held local office under the Turks, was building a fortified post in Haushabi borders, where he was also collecting transit dues on caravan traffic. I went to investigate the case, unofficially of course, and unassisted by the Aden authorities, who warned me frankly that I should probably get into trouble, for Turkish Arab levies were known to be strongly patrolling the neighbourhood, having driven in the Haushabi outposts who made a half-hearted demon¬ stration. I rode to Musemir—some 60 miles from Aden, two relays of ponies covering the distance between sunrise and sunset—ostensibly the bearer of a letter to the Sultan. Late that night I got him to put together a mixed mounted escort of about a dozen cavalry and camelry, with which I left for the Turkish border before dawn, pushing along to prevent news getting ahead of me, and so avoid the 22 THE LAND OF UZ risk of an ambuscade among the beetling heights of the Tiban gorge. One curious incident occurred on the way. As we splashed through one of the numerous bends of the stream, scaring quite sizeable fish under our ponies’ hoofs, the chief of the escort who rode at my bridle hand pointed up to an overhanging pinnacle on the left bank and remarked that it was the home and observation post of a very powerful Jinni or genie whose territory we were now entering. He added that as we were on a mission of some hazard it would be wise to secure his favour, or at least neutrality, by cutting the throat of a goat. I always make a point of humouring these ideas when on a delicate enterprise—it puts the men in a better temper, for they of course get the meat—but being in a hurry to push on, and seeing no herds about, I refused, and promised them a goat on return. They all looked rather uneasy, and one old sheikh, on a fine up-standing camel, murmured : “ God bring us back in safety. 5 ' On approaching the Turkish frontier, our route followed the dry stony bed of a tributary ravine, which entered the main gorge from our left, and further up swung sharply to our right. It skirted an open plain at the foot of the Am-Amma range, a soaring craggy ridge some 7,000 feet above sea-level, marking the southern limit of the Yaman highlands. Across this plain, from south-west to north¬ east, lies the imaginary line of the Turkish border, and here was situated the bone of contention. I had to verify the position of the tower and the existence of a Turkish garrison. Leaving the escort in the ravine with a caution not to off-saddle, and if they made coffee to see that their fire did not smoke, the senior chief and myself dismounted 23 THE AMIR OF DTHALA and climbed the right bank of the ravine, where a slight eminence gave us a good view of the plain. Mounting my prismatic compass just clear of the ridge under the friendly shade of a wild fig, I took the necessary obser¬ vations, helped out by the chief’s information, who knew every village by name and its position as regards the line. There was no doubt that the new tower was well within Haushabi limits. It was known as Darega, which in the local patois is a colloquial distortion of the Arabic Daragah a step; and a step in the right direction from the Turkish point of view apparently, for a group of mannikins clad in the sombre garb and vivid scarlet fez of Ottoman regulars loitered round the tower, suggesting official countenance and support. 1 My companion drew my attention to several lonely figures whose vigilant pose on salient peaks might have proclaimed them shepherds, but for the occasional glint of a rifle-barrel. I was just checking my last series of bearings when a man in the gaudy dress of a well-to-do Arab trader emerged from the ravine some five hundred yards abovQ the bend which hid my escort, and ran hard for Darega. Such energy in the heat of the day on the part of one whose tastes and calling are not usually associated with feats of physical activity, attracted my attention, and I sent the chief down to ask if any stranger had approached the escort. He returned with the account of an affable visitor who had dropped in at their bivouac while passing with a mule-load of silks and woven fabrics intended for one of the border villages. He had obligingly placed at their disposal his cups and coffee-pot (an antique flagon of 1 The Ottoman Government was in no way responsible for the Darega situation, which probably arose from a geographical error among local officials. 24 THE LAND OF UZ wrought brass and copper) which, with a nested series of tiny blue and white china bowls, forms the indispensable traveller’s outfit. He was taking on the mule to his destination and would return shortly with some powdered ginger—an almost indispensable adjunct to a South- Arabian coffee-drinker. I indicated to my companion the distant figure now toiling up the knoll on which stood Darega tower. We eyed each other with simultaneous inspiration. “This is a suitable time for departure,” I remarked. “Truly,” he affirmed, and turning towards the ravine shouted to the guileless escort, “Girth up! ye witless offspring of hill-apes—the ginger ye await may be too hot to swallow.” Even as he spoke two shots were fired in quick succession from the top of the tower, followed by the long shrill yell of the tribal alarm as the signal was repeated from observation posts on the adjacent peaks. While several mounted levies moved out from Darega across the plain towards us, along the ridges on either hand ant-like figures scrambled with eager zest to cut us off in the lower reaches of the ravine. In spite of the urgent need for haste, I was amused to notice the thorough and efficient manner in which one of the younger troopers put the informer’s coffee-pot out of action, by hammering it with a heavy stone after smashing the cups in fragments. At first I thought I should have to commit the pony detachment to a slight brush with our pursuers in order to extricate the camelry, which, though well-mounted, could not be expected to move with any pace over the rough stony bed of the wadi, but I had underestimated their cross-country prowess. On swing¬ ing off the track at the first bend, which I proposed to hold with the dismounted cavalry, the camel section sailed past THE AMIR OF DTHALA 25 at a pace which relieved any anxiety on that score, taking boulders and fallen tree-trunks in their stride like trained hurdlers. Leaving the escorting chief with half the ponies to bring up the rear, I pushed on with the others at a hand- gallop to tackle any lodgment which the hill-picquets might have effected against us further down, trusting to keep their fire sufficiently under to prevent the infliction of serious casualties among my retreating cavalcade. Luckily, our retirement had been too early and speedy to permit of any hostile riflemen attaining an effective position to check it, and after one long range abortive protest from a few out-distanced snipers on the ridge, we entered the main gorge of the Tiban. Here occurred a curious sequel to the morning’s incident previously given as an example of local superstition Pursuit being no longer imminent, we had slackened our pace to allow the escorting chief and his party to rejoin us. I began to notice a feeling of, distinct malaise, at first merely suggesting a slight touch of malaria, but speedily growing in intensity, accompanied by over¬ whelming vertigo and faintness, only too familiar as the symptoms of a rapidly rising temperature, well above the usual fever-mark. Finally I drew rein and literally rolled out of the saddle, an instinctive clutch of the pony’s mane alone saving me from a nasty tumble on the stony river-bed. I was completely knocked out for the time, and in response to the chief’s anxious enquiries, and a reminder that pursuit was still possible, I ordered the party to proceed, the chief and two of the best mounted troopers to remain with me until able to remount. The attack abated in less than five minutes, and, dipping my head into a pool, I clambered into the saddle assisted by my three retainers, and took the trail again at a canter. 2 6 THE LAND OF UZ The rush of air revived me considerably, and gazing about me I recognised the lofty peak which the chief had pointed out to me that morning as the home of the local Jinni. I must have collapsed almost at the foot of it! Strangely enough, by the time we reached Musemir, I had practi¬ cally recovered so far as any acute symptoms were concerned, and was able to make a good supper, of which the sacrificial goat I had promised formed the piece de resistance, I need hardly dwell on the firm establishment of the local legend by such unimpeachable evidence. The chief pointed out over the membra disjecta of the sacrifice —using a leg-bone to emphasise his remarks—that here was a clear case of the Jinni’s power, and that I owed my recovery to his clemency in making allowance for my good intentions. I may add that the Tiban valley has since proved itself notorious for sudden fierce attacks of ague. A detachment of the 2nd Battalion of the Hampshire regiment, on outpost duty near that spot, presented one or two similar cases and were terribly scourged by malaria before they left the neighbourhood. But to return to the political situation. A refusal to dismantle Darega led to the launching of a column from Aden in the summer of 1901, which, after a smart brush, took the position and blew up the tower which appeared to have been built with an eye to possible bombardment, for it had double walls with rubble in between, rendering it proof against the small mountain- guns which alone could be brought against it. This incident, in turn, gave rise to the Boundary Commission which reached Dthala in January, 1902, but Turkish complications were not the only obstacles encoun¬ tered. The local tribes were extremely antagonistic, and it is with their attitude that this work has to do. THE AMIR OF DTHALA 27 The Commission proposed to survey a line drawn N.N.E. from the neighbourhood of Dthala—as far as possible towards the Desert—before turning their attention towards the Red Sea Coast. I surmised, from previous personal experience, that big well-organised tribeships like the Upper Aulaki would never brook the presence of an armed alien force within or near their borders, but serious difficulties were encountered, long before reaching those regions, as will be shown in the next chapter. CHAPTER IV THE YAFA SULTANATES Yafa is peopled by a warlike strain of hardy mountaineer ever ready for military service, which they seek in various parts of the Islamic world, under alien banners, at Haider- abad, Zanzibar, etc. Lacking cohesion and uniform policy, it falls short of the political importance due to so powerful a confederation. Lower Yafa alone may be termed a sultanate, and with this division we have little to do, its Sultan being at that time impenetrably wrapped in a fit of the sulks almost amounting to monomania. In fact, many believed that he was actually insane, a supposition warranted by the extraordinary accounts of his eccentric vagaries, while his anchorite habit of seclusion baffled observation, just as his apathy to mundane affairs foiled all attempts to establish political relations. He may have been a shrewd cynical philosopher, laughing in his beard at the general scramble around him for place and power. He once deigned to invite me to his court at A1 Kahira, only three days’ journey from Aden by caravan, but the Aden authorities disapproved, so I lost the only chance of solving the enigma, and a ‘ dark horse ’ he remained. Upper Yafa, on the other hand, possesses an embarrassing number of Sultans—all eager to establish relations with ALI MEHSIN ASKAR AND HIS HENCHMAN. To face page 29, THE YAFA SULTANATES 29 us, or put forward with that object by ambitious chieftains in the hopes of consolidating their own power and influence, tor several competitors urged paramount claims. Among these, the most prominent figure was Ali Mehsin Askar, who wielded considerable influence through his father, an infirm but wily old patriarch, who had attained paramount power over the Mausata, which claimed to be the dominant tribe of Upper Yafa. He maintained his footing on that giddy pinnacle by the exercise of—well,—diplomacy. The Askars were none of them much troubled by unnecessary scruples, but Ali Mehsin was pre-eminent in this line, and devoted such leisure as tribal politics left him, to sowing the seeds of discord between the Aden Government and the Boundary Commission. I nick¬ named him the ‘ King-maker. 5 I am afraid he was not a favourite of mine, owing to a habit he had of bridling up on points of precedence and shivering with feigned indignation in order to impress us with his importance. He always wore a lot of silk in the way of turban, jacket, shawls, etc., which rustled on these occasions and reminded me irresistibly of a shabby-genteel landlady insisting that her apartments are respectable. He was typical of a somewhat degenerate class—alien potentates of hybrid Yaman stock—physically and morally flabby. These remarks, which are, I admit, far from kind, have been made in the interests of cleaner-bred and hardier rulers. I stand by them. His agent at Dthala was a devoted henchman from his own tribe, who kept him posted as to our attitude and movements—playing jackal to his lion. The ‘ King-maker 5 was a slovenly horseman and a heavy weight, but his nerve was strong. On one occasion 30 THE LAND OF UZ he badgered the Boundary Commission to give him a pony which they were kind enough to place at my disposal occasionally when I had ridden my own ponies off their legs between Dthala and Aden. This animal was a chestnut of good stock, but with an ugly white blaze down the near front of his head, and a malformed fetlock which made him sometimes cross his fore-legs like a roller-skater, especially when rounding a curve at a canter. I warned the ‘ King-maker 5 of this idiosyncrasy, and he took offence at the implied slur on his equitation. However, while cantering round a bend in the Hardaba ravine the pony came down like a shot rabbit, and poor Ali, riding with loose rein and looser seat, continued his career until he met the shingle of the wadi. Of course he was somewhat shaken, and was confined to his quarters for some time—the object of much solicitude and kind enquiries. When convalescent he announced his intention of dunning the Commission for compensation! Naturally the Askars hoped to use us as a cat’s paw to pluck for them those twin-chestnuts of Power and Prestige from the fire of inter-tribal politics, wherein an active part was forced upon us under the following conditions. Another Richmond was in the field—one Saleh bin Umr —whose counter-claim and genealogy I refrain from inflict¬ ing on the reader. We happened at the time to have a survey-party out under a strong escort up the Bana valley among the vassal clans of the Shaibi (the most northerly tribe-ship of Upper Yafa), with whom Saleh bin Umr had considerable influence as their paramount chief. He did not see why he should be left out in the cold while all these things were going on, and, Arab-like, in order to attract our attention and win our respect, took the field THE YAFA SULTANATES 31 against us, if I may dignify his little move by such a description. I was staying in the General’s camp at Dthala as his personal Assistant in connection with certain treaties and policy concerning the more remote tribes north-east of us towards the Great Red Desert. I was also ‘ running 5 the Dthala district, the ‘ political 5 in actual charge being away with the survey column beyond the Shaibi border, which lay along the crest of the main range, a westerly continuation of the great Kaur System. Here on a lofty plateau much intersected with small hills the fortified hamlet of Awabil had been occupied by a party of the Hampshires with a Maxim, as a connecting post. From them we got news of the survey column at irregular intervals by helio, a signalling party moving out from Awabil post to sit on the crest all day and flash the latest intelligence across some sixteen miles of jumbled hills and deep ravines. On September 10th 1 they flashed us tidings of a Shaibi attack on the survey-party, and the bombardment of Hadarah (the village implicated). We sent them our blessing and 300 lbs. of gun-cotton wherewith to make a clean job of Hadarah. On the twelfth, the ‘political’ with the survey column helioed news that Saleh bin Umr was advancing. A double company of the 123rd (Outram’s rifles) and two camel-guns had left for Awabil the previous day, but the Resident at once decided to reinforce with all available strength, and as G.O.C. led the relieving column off next morning—a damp depressing Sunday. None of us had packed until midnight, to deceive native spies, who were ever on the watch. We started the baggage off at dawn in tempestuous rain, 32 THE LAND OF UZ and the column marched later, cheerily anticipating a brush. I was not enthusiastic—the column seemed to be too formidable for the Shaibi to face. Also I had been bitten by a centipede (dislodged by the night’s rain), which made me take a despondent view; this insect’s bite is most depressing. However, on reaching our first halt among the foot-hills the G.O.C. suggested local levies as guides to scout ahead of our advance-guard, as there seemed a likelihood of the Shaibi at least toying with the head of our column among that network of hills and ravines. The aspect became more cheerful and I commenced a miscellaneous collection of local hillsmen and the pick of the Amir’s retainers who had followed us from Dthala; I knew that none of them would stand if pressed, and rather missed the levies I used to employ for such purposes from hardier tribes, but consoled myself with the reflection that I could run as fast as they could, and shoot much straighter. The only qualifications I insisted on were that each man should know the country and possess a carbine which would go off, and appeared unlikely to burst at the first discharge. By taunts and bribery I persuaded three of my newly- acquired recruits to take triplicate messages from the G.O.C. to the officer in charge at Awabil. He replied that a Shaibi attack on that post had just been repulsed, and the messengers reported that the southern crest of the plateau between us and them appeared to be held in force. The evening closed in wet and cold, but neither dripping tents nor sloppy ground could damp the spirits of the column. Until ‘Lights Out’ the cheery songs of the Dublin Fusiliers were answered by the droning antiphon of interminable Indian ballads from the mule-lines of the 33 THE YAFA SULTANATES 6 th Mountain Battery, where the festive ‘ drabis 5 or native muleteers were giving vent to their feelings. The dawn broke fine and chilly. I paraded my shiver¬ ing crew and distributed short lengths of broad surgical bandage, which I had commandeered from the Field Hospital to serve as distinguishing badges, since the Shaibi snipers would probably provide all the excitement that was good for my command, without incurring any risk of the column’s disciplined fire. These badges were tied above the elbow. As we scrambled up the slope past the advance-guard of the Fusiliers, some wag remarked “there goes the Umpire-in-chief an’ ’is bloomin’ stawf —now we shan't be long ! ” A hot toilsome march in and out of steep ravines brought us in sight of the plateau-crest, which was certainly manned, but the business-like aspect of the Dublins toiling doggedly up behind us, nipped any hostile demonstration in the bud. A tower on the sky¬ line fired two shots in quick time, the usual alarm-signal, but maintained a discreet silence when the head of the mountain battery hove in sight. The Shaibi had already learned that guns could wreck a happy home. I left my sportsmen—now full of confidence—on the edge of the plateau to hold the crest until joined by the advance-guard, and, mounting my pony, pushed on to Awabil just in time to attend the funeral of one of the Hampshires. The Shaibi appeared to have approached en masse quite openly until saluted by a round or two from the camel-guns. They then scattered and came on with real science, taking advantage of every bit of cover until they reached a serrated ridge of granite, barely 200 yards north of the position. This consisted of a low perimeter wall, 34 THE LAND OF UZ enclosing an Arab tower which rose at the eastern angle of the position and had the Hampshire Maxim mounted on its roof. The Shaibi had built themselves ideal loopholes among the boulders of the ridge, all thickly splashed with lead and nickel by the fire of the defence. It says much for the Shaibi that, covered by musketry from this ridge, they had made a rush for the post across the open in extended order with a resolute courage that elicited the admiration of the defenders. The attack, however, staggered before the venomous fire of the post, and, true to Arab tactics, the hillsmen, having shot their bolt, retired with neat celerity—keeping to the broken ground east of the position as far as possible, and dribbling craftily across the open in scattered groups. They received most embarrassing attentions from the post, which did not however prevent them carrying off their wounded as tribal etiquette ordains. It was said after¬ wards that some of the Shaibi dead were found to be wearing dresses of honour (Keswat) that had been pre¬ sented by our Boundary Commission. If so, this in no way reflects on the perspicacity of the Commission, but merely serves to show the cast-iron impudence of the petty hill-chieftain. This is also illustrated by the fact that two months later—while down at Aden on duty—I encountered two chiefs from this district bringing in a third for surgical treatment in our Native Hospital. These sportsmen volunteered the statement that their companion had been wounded in the attack on Awabil post, which he confirmed. I read all three a paternal lecture on the evils attending aggression against the illustrious Government, before making the necessary arrangements for their reception. They listened with 35 THE YAFA SULTANATES polite attention, and then asked for a scale of entertainment far higher. than that to which their rank entitled them, urging their wounded comrade as a plea. I may mention that a .303. bullet had drilled the fleshy part of his thigh, severing the sciatic nerve. The wound had healed perfectly, but he had a ‘dropped 5 foot. He got the highest scale. On asking his name, he proved to be a cadet of the house of Askar, and ‘from information received 5 I had reason to believe that the Askars were strongly represented in that venture. Meanwhile I was very busy up at Awabil forming a native Intelligence Corps, as we knew that a lot of wounded hillsmen were somewhere in the neighbourhood, and apart from motives of humanity desired their closer acquaintance in order to get to the bottom of this incident and trace the leaders concerned. Local report pointed towards the villages along the southern edge of the plateau as having sheltered some of the chiefs implicated; and as the retirement had been effected towards that ridge, the theory seemed probable, more especially as we already knew that some Mausata chiefs had joined the attack and these villages lay along the most practical route back to their homes. Further enquiries elicited fairly authentic information that the Mausata contingent had retreated along that ridge, where two of their wounded had succumbed, and been buried at the village of A 1 Kosah ; also that one of the Askars (name given) had been badly hit in the thigh and lay at Dthubiah, another village on that edge of the plateau about five miles from our camp. Two of his cousins were said to be in attendance on him, both were presumably present at Awabil fight. I was ordered to take a column out, round up the village and retrieve any ‘ cripples ’ or lost birds it might THE LAND OF UZ 36 harbour, also, incidentally, to search for breech-loading firearms, and confiscate any found. Unfortunately, our information came from local sources, and it was only reasonable to suppose that those who would betray the whereabouts of their compatriots to us, would probably divulge our movements and intentions to them, so I openly ridiculed the informers before my Arab orderlies, discrediting the news, and stating that true or false it did not interest me. This was not strictly true, for it certainly interested both the Resident and myself officially, but it is a melancholy fact that diplomatic dealings with Arabs do not always convey the whole truth, although one cannot be too straightforward in one’s private relations with them. As it was, I felt convinced that our informants had hedged, by transmitting intelligence in both directions, for the cult of Janus has been reduced to an exact science in the Aden Hinterland. I did what I could ; guides, of course, had to be procured, for the village of Dthubiah lay among a sea of small kopjes, accessible only by a narrow mountain path—in some places a mere goat-track which it would be difficult to follow even by daylight. I selected two guides from Awabil. I told these two worthies in strict confidence that I wanted them to guide me to A 1 Kosah some time to¬ morrow morning, and I would let them know when. The night closed in damp and cold (we were some 6,000 feet above sea-level), and towards midnight a thick Scotch mist condensed into a steady interminable drizzle. The combination of cold and wet has never appealed to me, and desert-life has emphasised my dislike of these meteor¬ ological conditions. Still I was glad to see them on this occasion, as Arabs have a cat-like hatred of such weather, THE YAFA SULTANATES 37 especially at night, and unless runners had been sent to Dthubiah before dusk they would probably await more favourable weather before making a move. Moreover, if only a rumour of our movements reached that village, our birds might decide to keep close in cover, at any rate until broad daylight. It was difficult to imagine anything but a rumour reaching Dthubiah, as, in addition to my own precautions, there was no stir in camp till after midnight and none knew where they were going. The column placed at my disposal was handy, compact, and workmanlike, and performed its share of the enter¬ prise so well that I recount the incident, although by no means exciting in itself. First of all, I had to go across to the village of Awabil and collect our guides by hand (and foot) from their snug stifling quarters. It takes a surgical operation to awaken a hill-Arab quickly and thoroughly when sleeping in a stuffy room with the door shut and all loopholes plugged with turbans, etc. When partially awake he usually jumps up with a yell and a drawn knife. These men were no exception to the general rule, but my orderly and myself managed the job between us in ten minutes— record time. When I returned to camp with these coerced volunteers, the column had fallen in, and was being told off. It con¬ sisted of a company from the Dublin Fusiliers, some fifty sepoys of the 123rd Native Infantry, and two guns from the 6th Mountain Battery. We moved off at 3 a.m., the guides, my orderly and myself leading. The night was as dark as Arab politics and very still. As the column uncoiled its length and wound out of camp along the track the rhythmic clank and creak of mule-equipment THE LAND OF UZ 3 * floated towards us from the gun-train. The guides pricked up their ears. “What are the mules carrying?” asked one. “Burdens,” I replied. “Partly presents 1 for those to whom they are due.” The Arab orderly at our heels suppressed a grim chuckle. “You’ve got guns with you,” suddenly exclaimed the guide. “True, O brother,” I replied soothingly. “ Such is our custom.” There was a portentous silence which lasted until the column checked for its first short halt. A watery crescent moon peered through the wrack overhead, lighting up our faces and the fixed bayonets of the advance-guard. I turned to the guides and remarked casually: “We will first call at Dthubiah, of your courtesy lead on for that village.” They showed, or assumed, great trepidation. “Alas, the road is not known to us, also the villagers will afflict us for bringing an armed host upon them.” “Affliction and wealth,” I moralized, “are Allah’s wages to mankind. Who may avoid the one or compel the other ? Hear my words: I know the road until it diverges towards A 1 Kosah, Decide, before we reach that point, which portion shall be yours, for by the splendour of Allah, your choice shall be fulfilled ere we see His sun again.” I placed the more timid of the two in charge of the advance-guard with instructions to see that he did not break away if his comrade took to the rocks, in which case, as the light was better, I felt sure that my orderly and myself could easily run him down before he got far, and persuade him to listen to reason. 1 An Arabic pun is here involved. Nasibah = a stroke of fortune, and is locally applied to the 4 lucky bags * which are sold for children at a fair or religious festival. Masibah means misfortune. The letters m and n are frequently transposed in Arabic. 39 THE YAFA SULTANATES We resumed our march, the first guide leading with me, followed by my Arab orderly, the second guide and the leading files of the advance-guard. Both guides adopted my point of view before we reached the fork, and I promised to see that they were not identified by any of the villagers. As the false dawn showed, we reached Sharfah—a cluster of towers overlooking Dthubiah, which lay in a hollow. From here I recognised that village from previous description by its general outline and the mosque. As I was not certain of being in a position to carry out my obligations subsequently, I paid off the two guides, expressing regret for the unavoidable discomfort they had incurred. I gave each a substantial tip, patted them on the back, and told them to clear out for Awabil before daylight betrayed them in the vicinity, and spoiled their alibi. They took the back trail at the double. Meanwhile our little force was disposing itself in the most masterly manner and with a silence that was truly remarkable for shod troops on rough ground. Of course, the ghostly glimmer that heralded the dawn enabled them to pick their steps to a certain extent, but even then it was a highly creditable performance. Sharfah had been sur¬ rounded instantly, but remained wrapped in peaceful slumber. The two guns came into action under the shadow of Sharfah towers with hardly a sound. Here they commanded Dthubiah at a range of under 400 yards ; but as they were not very conspicuous I ventured to suggest a position on an open threshing-floor close to, under which lay a semi-subterranean chamber presumably used as a granary. The gunner-officer observed in whispers as he dug his heel into the mud and wattle floor that his pets would probably kick their way through 40 THE LAND OF UZ into the granary after a round or two. I expressed my apol°gies for this predicament in case I was unable to convey them later, but while admitting the probability of such a catastrophe, pointed out that they had not far to fall, and the wattle would let them down easily, while they could be extricated without much difficulty by kicking down the loose stone wall that encircled the chamber. The sight of guns has a great moral effect on the Arab householder, and should the villagers prove cantankerous, as people are apt to do when aroused in the gloaming by strangers not even on their visiting list, an obvious demon¬ stration of force might prove useful. With this object in view, the infantry, while holding excellent tactical positions, were also instructed to show themselves freely on the heights surrounding the village, at peep of day. To assist my search I had applied for a naik and six sepoys from the 123rd, selecting Mussulmans as being less likely to arouse unnecessary antipathy; and shortly after they had paraded, the O.C. came up, to report that his dispositions were made. He added that if I encoun¬ tered hostilities down below he would act as circumstances might dictate, as I might not be in a position to forward further instructions, and concluded by handing me a very workmanlike W.G. revolver with a handful of spare cartridges, remarking that it would give me a better * show 5 among the houses than my single-loading carbine. The spontaneous generosity of the act impressed me, for he must have known that had I occasion to use his revolver he would probably not see it again. I was glad to have it, as, apart from the confidence it engendered, it is not etiquette for a ‘ political 5 to pay a visit ostentati¬ ously armed, even out of calling hours. THE YAFA SULTANATES 41 I thanked him warmly as I slipped the weapon into the capacious pocket of my ‘warm coat British, 5 and acknowledging his good wishes and those of the gunner, picked my way down the slope followed by my escort with magazines charged, and the Arab orderly who had requisitioned my Martini-Metford and bandoleer. Dthubiah preserved an ominous silence and looked rather depressing in the grey spectral light of approaching dawn. The suspected house belonged to a prominent merchant whom my orderly knew by sight, and the tower itself had been pointed out to me from above by the guides, who stated that the regular inhabitants of the village were chiefly non-combatants. They had warned me against the Sheikh of the local clan (the Khlaki), who played the part of ‘squire 5 and exacted taxes from the villagers in return for protection, i.e. the privilege of being bled by him and his vassals only. He lived some little distance from the village, in a sort of feudal castle, with his family and retainers. He was described to me as a ‘ Butran/ viz., a regular dare-devil and firebrand, though an elderly man —over fifty. This chief ought to have paid his respects to the Resident ere this, unless in sympathy with Saleh bin Umr’s gang. I hoped to make him declare himself, and with this object had given instructions that while any one might enter the cordon towards the village, no one should be allowed to pass outwards. Our little party had now halted in the village street at the tower indicated, before a low nail-studded door which afforded the only means of entrance. I strolled quietly round the tower with the orderly to make sure that there were no other bolt-holes, and returning, tried the door gently, to feel on which side the lock was. This is 42 THE LAND OF UZ always the weak point of an Arab door, however solid it may appear, for it consists of a stout wooden bar running through two massive staples of the same material, which are secured to the door by spike-nails well clinched. This engages through another staple similarly attached to the door-post, in a socket built into the wall. However, there is a lot of ‘ play 5 about the whole mechanism, while the nails are far too soft, and will straighten and pull out under repeated and strenuous shocks. I explained this —in the most fluent Hindustani I could command—to the naik and the attentive sepoys, who grinned expectantly and said: “We understand, sir”; then stepping back into the street with my orderly, I told the naik to keep his party close under the wall, as there was no occasion to expend regular troops prematurely. I had arranged that if fire was opened and I became a casualty, the naik was to take charge of the party, burst the door in and gain the top of the tower, at the point of the bayonet if necessary. There they would be reasonably secure until Nemesis struck that village. The wily hillsman, when expecting a hostile visit, sometimes fills the whole of his ground-floor apartment (usually reserved for cattle) with thorny bushes —a terrible death-trap to the unwary; but heavy bovine breathing within had reassured me on this point. “ Bang at the door,” I ordered. “Knock! ” As the door reverberated under the emphatic thumps of a rifle-butt I heard the click of a breech-block at my side, and thrusting both hands in my coat-pockets looked up at the tower, from the summit of which came a sleepy howl. I nodded to the orderly, who threw back his head and intoned, “Oo-aahh! Husein bin Nasir!” “Who’s there ? ” came the query. “The Wali’s assistant and his escort.” THE YAFA SULTANATES 43 “ Welcome, 55 replied the voice, and a touzled, turbanless head was poked over the parapet. “Morning, 55 I remarked. “ It 5 s cold out here; we would enter, O friend. 55 Further injunctions 'were shouted downstairs and we closed in at the door, which was shortly flung open by a sleepy-looking youth, holding a malodorous little hand-lamp. I knew by this that our birds had flown if they had ever been there, but prosecuted a vigorous search for rifles, leaving four sepoys and the naik outside the house. We did not even find a round of ammunition. As I emerged on to the roof of the tower, gasping like a diver after the stifling atmosphere below, I heard in the distance the staccato lilting chant of tribal warriors at the double. I slipped quietly downstairs and rejoined my party just as some twenty armed hillsmen, led by a wiry elderly chief, filed round the corner still chanting, and halted, fronting us at ten paces, unslinging their carbines. I drew my borrowed weapon unostentatiously, while my escort came to the ‘Ready 5 with a simultaneous rattle. I caught the naik’s eye, and signalling to order arms, stepped to the front of the Arab line, revolver at hip. Their chief, whom I recognised instinctively as the Khlaki, came up to me. “Who are you? 55 he fiercely asked. “Iam the Wali’s assistant, 5 ’ 1 I replied quietly. “ My name among Arabs is Abdullah Mansur. O chief, know this, at the first shot fired, I’ll blow a hole through you, whatever else betides. My men await aggression. Lo ! I have come in peace from the Wali, who has a message for you. 55 “Your message? 55 1 “ Wali ” = Governor, i.e. the Resident. 44 THE LAND OF UZ “Not here, O chief—it is not meet that underlings should overhear our speech—be pleased to accompany me,” and pocketing my weapon I took him gently by the arm and piloted him round the corner of the tower towards Sharfah. I halted and pointed up the slope in the rapidly increasing light at the two ten-pounders trained on the village. I waited until he had also grasped the fact that the heights on either hand were crowned with troops, and then said with emphasis, u Climb down, 1 my father— when lion meets panther, who can doubt the issue ? ” The old man turned fiercely on me: “ Son of Mansur! What is this ? Have I at any time declared myself a foe to your Government ? ” “No,” I replied. “Had you done so, the village behind us were now a dusty heap of stones; nay, more, had we not come in friendship, you and your retinue would not be here. Reflect, O chief, what rifles bore on you from those two hills at your approach. I, bringing speech from the Wali, desired to see you ; so you were allowed to enter Dthubiah.” “And the Wali’s message?” he queried. Merely this : he notes with regret that you, an alleged friend of Government, have not yet paid your respects to it through him. He therefore, having heard a rumour that Dthubiah harboured certain people connected with a recent aggression against the illustrious Government, sent me to verify or refute this report, and incidentally to make sure that they had left no rifles and ammunition behind them. He also enjoined me if I saw you to repeat his words ; I inform you of them.” 1 Dun dahrak , lit. 4 bend your back,’ a colloquialism signifying sur¬ render to the will of God or some overwhelming might. THE YAFA SULTANATES 45 The Khlaki frowned thoughtfully. “It is not our custom to visit strangers until they have called on us. Let the Wali come and pay his respects to me first! 55 This was really the last straw. I was cold and hungry and I wanted a smoke. I had dragged a fairly hefty body of troops out of their warm beds at an untimely hour; I had imperilled the lives of six of the King-Emperor’s sepoys and a naik, not to mention my own and the orderly’s, and to crown all I was keeping the entire column waiting, while an elderly ruffian of a petty hill-chief talked insolent rubbish. “Does the lion seek the mountain-fox?” I asked with concentrated rage, then in low tones to spare him the indignity of being overheard : “ O man, decide here and now. Will you call on the Wali as a chief of your house should, with safe conduct and respect, or will you visit him lashed to the back of a gun-mule? If you draw your knife I’ll flick it from your hand with a bullet. Have not five years in this country taught me how to defend myself? and, did I fall, your life would follow mine.” We eyed each other sternly for a few seconds, and then I added: ‘ ‘ Moreover, have I not called already, in the Wali’s name, and (indicating the encircling troops) with the utmost ceremony? Your ideas on etiquette are exacting, O chief, yet they do not prompt you to offer me even a cup of coffee. Is this your tribal hospitality ? ” The tension relaxed at this allusion to a national virtue. “The door of my house is open,” he murmured. “That’s understood,” I replied, “but I am on duty now, and may not avail myself of your entertainment. Also you have yet to call on the Wali.” “I will return with you,” he exclaimed. “Not so,” I objected, “lest men say your visit was 4 6 THE LAND OF UZ not voluntary, and your respect be lessened. But, at your pleasure, visit our camp after the noon-day call to prayer, when you and your shadow are of equal length. I will see that you have a befitting reception and safe conduct. The Wali will see you when convenient, although it is not his custom to grant a personal interview to any but paramount chiefs.” (I scored one there.) “ On my eyes and head be it.” “That’s the talk!” and we rejoined our respective parties. The naik called his men smartly to attention. I addressed him sotto voce — a All’s well.” “Very good, Sahib,” and his air of relief gave me some notion of the strain these men had undergone,— unaccustomed to Arab ways and Arab bluff. My orderly, who had been investigating on his own account, reported that he had found nothing contraband, and could vouch for all the other buildings but the mosque. Now I have heard of rifles being carried on a covered bier before now, attended by a full funeral cortege , so 1 determined to search the mosque to complete the job. I beckoned to the Khlaki. ‘ ‘ As the Wali and myself both hoped, all is correct here, but to stifle the voice of slander I would search the mosque.” “But you’re not a Moslem! ” objected the Khlaki. “ True, O chief, but my men are, and Sunnis too. You are Sunnis ?” (turning to the naik). “Yes, Sahib,” he assented. “Orderly, bring the mullah here.” A sleek little man was hustled forward from the awe-stricken crowd of villagers. “May your morning be prosperous,” I re¬ marked. “My orderly and two of these sepoys will enter the mosque with you and search the place; the THE YAFA SULTANATES 47 orderly will interpret between you—he knows the tongue of Hind.” But this is desecration,” 1 he stammered. Now, don’t make difficulties. The men may not belong to your particular brand of Sunni, but they are quite orthodox and probably far more devout than your average congregation. Obey your chief’s orders.” I looked towards the Khlaki, who said briefly, “ Enter! ” While despatching a brief note to the Column-Com¬ mander, on the turn of events, I took the opportunity of mentioning to the Khlaki that if arms or ammunition were found inside the mosque the mullah would have to return with me to make his explanation before the Resident. “ That’s his look-out,” growled the chief. “ He’s not my mullah.” The search-party emerged in ten minutes and reported all correct. I congratulated the mullah and thanked the Khlaki chief for his assistance. “Till we meet again,” he observed, as his party got on the move. I replied : “Pleased to have made your acquaintance —March off, naik,” and led back up the slope, to make the best apologies I could for not having shown the column a fight for their trouble. The Khlaki got his interview, which need not be dwelt upon here. Suffice it to say that he had to answer some rather embarrassing questions and was told some home- truths, leaving the audience in a chastened and somewhat milder mood than when he entered. On the same principle that indicates chocolate after a dose of quinine, I stood him coffee and ‘mixed’ biscuits in my tent. I noticed that he selected the sugar-topped 1 The word aib — deadly sin of any sort. 48 THE LAND OF UZ ones with accuracy and judgment, so I don’t think his lecture rankled much, but it certainly impressed him, for after a contemplative pull at my ‘ hukah ’ he observed with feeling: “The arm of Government—my word its length! 55 “God lengthen it,” I answered piously. The whole incident, which I have perhaps described at undue length, would seem to convey two lessons, political and military. The first illustrates the Arab’s appreciation of a firm and forward policy (that chief would have been fomenting disturbances on his own account if left alone), and the second shows that good civilized troops and guns can move over rough ground at night with praiseworthy rapidity and silence. CHAPTER V REMINISCENCES OF TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 Hitherto the attitude of the smaller tribeships that lay between us and Aden had been fairly peaceful, but our clemency in connection with Saleh bin Umr’s abortive rising had perhaps been misinterpreted, and it was not long before we had trouble on the line of communications. The Dthanbari—a small hill-tribe lying to the east of the route to Aden on the Haushabi border—had raided a small native caravan within Haushabi limits during the third week in August, killing one camel and lifting two others. We could not afford to overlook the incident, as we depended largely on local traffic for our supplies, so I was ordered to make enquiries on the spot in conjunction with the Road Commandant, who was also in charge of the escort, some 150 camelry and cavalry from Aden Troop and the mounted men of the 123rd N.I. On this occasion we traced the looted camels to the entrance of Nakhlein valley and reconnoitred as far as practicable, for future reference. As the incident had occurred within Haushabi limits, and the Dthanbari were nominally vassals of that Sultanate, we were joined by the Haushabi’s son-in-law, the Sultan himself being an invalid. That chief attended us on our reconnaissance, and THE LAND OF UZ 50 seemed rather in awe of the Dthanbari. Of course, there was no occasion for drastic measures at this stage, as the Mansab or headman of a village on neutral ground between Haushabi and Dthanbari territory had visited Nakhlein and brought back pledges on behalf of the chiefs of the clans implicated. They undertook to pay an indemnity and make restitution in a month’s time. I merely re¬ marked to the Mansab that if we had to come down there again on a similar errand, it would not be in friendly guise. I mistrusted that Mansab ; he was altogether too pliant, and I felt sure that he was not only sitting on the fence, but playing for time on behalf of the Dthanbari, who probably never intended to pay up. This surmise was more or less accurate, for the Dthanbari ignored my subsequent correspondence on the subject, which was couched in the politest Arabic, and brought matters to a climax on October 3rd by looting our mail on its way up from Aden. This was the last straw, and advantage was taken of the fact that the Dthala contingent of the Dublin Fusiliers was about to leave for Aden to form a punitive column by adding thereto two io-pounder guns from the 6th (British) Mountain Battery, and two 7-pounders from the Aden camel-battery, while we picked up 50 sepoys of the 102nd Native Infantry from Salaik post en route . We were also joined by 25 camel-sowars (Aden Troop) from our advanced Supply and Transport base at Nubat-dakim on the littoral plateau, some 20 miles north of Lahej. The whole were under the command of the Commanding Officer of the Fusiliers. On reaching our jumping-off point, near Dar Sheban, I found on riding up in advance of the column, that the inhabitants of this village were busily engaged in emptying TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 51 their well, and having" already stored an excessive quantity of water for their own needs, were spilling the rest on the ground as fast as it was drawn. This was not fair play, and ascertaining by personal observation that the other two villages in the vicinity were at much the same game, I had all wells picketed, for I knew how inadequate the water supply had been on my previous visit, and now we had a much larger force. Also the mules of the 6th Mountain Battery would strain our resources in this direction to the utmost. Of course, that old fraud, the Mansab, turned up, in sup¬ pliant guise, to have the picquets removed, but I pointed out that the district would have to suffer for its slackness in allowing the Dthanbari raiding parties to strike right across their territory at our line of communication. I also reminded him of the reserve water-supply I had found at his own village, and added that when the .column was satisfied I would withdraw the picquets, and not sooner ; also that I should come round and watch the villagers drawing water, and if any waste was detected would picket the wells during the whole of our stay in his neighbour¬ hood. He departed assuring me that no waste should occur if I would only refrain from closing the wells against them altogether. Of course I had not the slightest intention of causing such serious hardship, and, in fact, made sure on my rounds that each village had all it wanted for human needs, as when any shortage occurs, it is the women and children who usually feel the first pinch, and they were probably the only innocent sections of the local population. As it was, the wells ran dry twice while the column was watering, and they had to wait for them to refill, so that we were never through with it. 52 THE LAND OF UZ Meanwhile I had been making enquiries in order to trace the actual perpetrators of the recent outrage. There wasn’t much difficulty. They had made no secret about it, having scattered torn letters all the way across their border like a paper chase, merely keeping certain official files which they recognised as important documents of some sort, and hoped therewith to drive a bargain. All evidence conclusively pointed to the tribal section inhabiting Nakhlein valley, and as my general instructions were to make an example of those concerned in the aggression I decided to 4 go for’ that settlement. It was my invariable custom before inflicting reprisals on inhabited villages to drop a line to the senior chief concerned, drawing his attention to previous warnings and his present attitude, so as to give him a chance to climb down. This also gave the women and children an oppor¬ tunity of making good their escape to the high ground before we commenced business, as no one wants to earn the reputation of a lady-killer in its literal sense. I once heard of a case connected with a decrepit old woman, an apparently deserted tower, and twenty pounds of gun cotton, but that is another story altogether. Of course these astute gentry took advantage of this procedure to send off their flocks and herds with the non- combatants, and make all preparations for our reception, but I doubt if any real tactical point was given away. Their scouts and shepherds would always convey a warning to the villages concerned long before a column could get within striking distance, unless a night-attack were made, and if the reader could only see the terrain he would under¬ stand why such a course is seldom practicable. Such communications are sound politically, and, more¬ over, obviate the chance of picking up a stricken child. TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1908 53 In this particular case there were heavy crops of ‘ bajri 5 up the valley, and I knew by personal observation that the most forward crop of this description would not be ready for harvest for at least another fortnight. This fact convinced me that they would put up a fight, and also indicated the means of conveying a salutary moral lesson which will be described later. The Haushabi’s previous representative failed to appear, but a lesser member of that ruling house called to pay his respects while I was finishing my letter to Nakhlein, conveying our ultimatum, which I intended to follow up before dawn next morning. He burst upon my astonished gaze, a vision of surpassing splendour. His turban—a delicate blend of all the colour bands in the spectrum (and a few intermediate tints)—was stiff with silver embroidery. A crimson velvet jacket with gilt buttons struck a dominant colour-note, which was sustained by a kilt of a bright red and yellow plaid, girt at the waist by a shawl which subtly blended crimson and orange in alternate stripes. In this was thrust an ivory-hilted dagger, with a heavily gilded scabbard. A silver-mounted sporting Martini-Henry rifle and a cartridge belt of red leather completed his equip¬ ment. He salaamed and hailed me as *‘ Sef al Wali—Sword of the Resident.” At first I was too dazzled to return the man’s salute. I felt it impossible to live up to such magnificence. I was wearing a pair of khaki ‘shorts,’ putties and rope-soled boots, with shirt and turban of khaki-coloured cotton. To pursue his metaphor, never was blade in plainer scabbard. Arab pens are very messy, and I found out later that my inky fingers had transferred a black smudge to my heated brow while trying to decide if Arab etiquette justified me THE LAND OF UZ 54 in signing myself as ‘ Praying for the welfare 5 of the Nakhlein chiefs. However, I managed to gasp out a salutation or two, and asked him to be seated while the orderly brought coffee and cigarettes. It was a blazing hot noon—we were barely 2000 feet above sea level—and how my guest could stand it I really don’t know. It made one hot even to look at him, but he seemed cool enough, and made well- bred enquiries concerning the Wali’s health, to which I replied with all the dignity I could muster. He then set himself to pump me with a laboured directness of purpose that, contrasted with the subtler methods of the reigning Haushabi Sultan, was transparency itself. On these occasions it is always advisable to reply with engaging candour, as if there were nothing to conceal; to avoid deliberate untruth, but to screen all points of importance in a labyrinth of side-issues, which your inter¬ rogator should be invited to discuss. The Haushabi acquired two points of information—one was obvious and the other was generally known, but in this case misleading. I had to apply to him for a ‘ mokattib ’ or runner to take my letter to Nakhlein, as none of my people could of course take it, and by using this channel I obtained a guarantee that the letter would be delivered. As—seal or no seal—the contents would probably be got at, I volunteered the information that the letter alluded to the recent outrage, urging the Dthanbari to make restitution for their previous offence and send their chiefs in to meet me in durbar that evening, together with the parties implicated. My guest shook his head. “They won’t come,” he said. “They’re bad people.” TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 55 Let us avoid premature opinions, 55 I observed sententi- ously. “Perhaps their better feelings will be touched—I wrote most politely—it is to be hoped that they will not delay their reply. I can’t keep troops waiting here, and besides the Wali is expecting at Dthala certain prominent chiefs from the edge of the ‘ Empty Quarter, 5 whose acquaintance I made when I was last up that way. He wishes me to be back in time to meet them. 55 All this was nothing but the truth, still not, I fear, the whole truth; however it set the Haushabi off at a tangent, and he offered to forward the Dthanbari’s reply on to me at Dthala in case I had to leave before it arrived. I thanked him cordially, and he went on to say that the Dthanbari were cutting their crops in Nakhlein valley, preparatory to falling back to the high ground if we advanced,— quoting local information. Now if my informant had possessed any knowledge of local agriculture he would have known this to be impracticable, for even if they only harvested the ‘ heads 5 and left the fodder stalks to our tender mercies, these alone would be more than they could carry to the hills, and if they did—in the absence of suitable storage—the grain would sprout and ferment, instead of maturing, for it is very damp among those hills at night, and thunder-storms frequently come up in the afternoon. I feigned considerable interest, and moralized on the toil and trouble which an uneasy conscience entails. On parting with my guest at the door of the tent he glanced round the camp with awakened interest. “You’ve got quite a force. 55 “ Yes,” I admitted. “ They do seem a lot, don’t they ? but the British Infantry are on their way down to the coast 56 THE LAND OF UZ as I told you. Yes, those men with the tufts of green in their hats.” “Why do they wear these ?” “As a mark of distinction.” “For what?” he continued; but I really was not prepared at this juncture to review the history of that gallant regiment, and reminded the Haushabi that it was nearly two o’clock and high time to send my letter to Nakhlein, so he departed to find a messenger. This conversation is not inflicted on the reader with malice prepense, but is given as an example of the tactics employed by chiefs of moderate mental calibre who have received instructions from some more subtle source to acquire information. They seem to think that if they can only get you to answer an interminable series of questions, they may be able to insert a vital one somewhere, and take you off your guard. This theory, though ingenious, is not borne out in actual practice, but the habit is general, and forms one of the many trials of a political officer, who must not lose his temper (except on purpose). Rudeness and petulance invariably lose points in the game, and earn the contempt of a race which prides itself on self-control and courtesy, at least as regards its ruling class. It is better to express disapproval of a man’s conduct by symbolic act such as disregarding his salute or returning it curtly, or even in extreme cases omitting to offer him a seat when in audience. To make this lesson effective one should be careful to leave no practicable seat but the floor when dealing with the less civilized tribal chiefs, for one of this type when so treated cast an embarrassed glance round the tent and flopped down on my camp-bed, leaving a bright indigo smear from his freshly-dyed kilt as a memento of the occasion. AN EXCELLENT SHOOTING PONY. To face page 57 TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 57 It was the hush-time between sunset prayers and dusk. The murmuring intonation from my horse-lines had given place to the subdued note of preparation. Now we were no longer under prying eyes, for the camp was closed at ‘ Retreat 3 against all but the watering parties, which were toiling hard up to midnight. No native could come in or out without a written pass from the political officer, and that —as a Fusilier once observed—was as difficult to get as the keys of St. Peter. The Haushabi reappeared in sober array, as befits a man who comes from the presence of his Maker, and asked leave to visit the village of Dar-Es-S6k, some four hundred yards south of the camp, to enquire for tidings of our messenger who came from that village. “ It may not be, O chief,” I replied, “the man knows our camp, and the sentries have orders to detain him whenever he arrives, and report. I am pleased to see that you have plain attire with you,” I added, “as I fancy I may require you to accompany me towards Nakhlein, and your gala kit is not suitable.” “ But you are not going there unattended ! ” “ I am not. You have my permission to retire. Allah send you sleep.” I changed into active-service kit and dozed until the camp began to stir, when I went across to the horse-lines and roused my folk. As there was some rough ground between us and Nakhlein, I told the sais to saddle my little Somali mare, c the Missis,’ who had once been an excellent shooting pony, but became gun-shy after an incident in the Maran gorge in another district. She was unshod, as all my ponies were for up-country work, and could scramble over rough ground better than any mule, but her colour, a flea-bitten grey, made her rather conspicuous. 58 THE LAND OF UZ I saw that the Haushabi had his coffee and paraded his escort to see that no one was missing, lest news of our approach should precede us. This may seem an absurd thing to say, but I have known it happen in some of my private ventures, and I take no chances when a British column is concerned. I met the C.O. in the Mess, and we made our final arrangements over a cup of cocoa. Our route to Nakhlein lay across a broad sandy plain, skirted on our left by the Dthanbari hills. These trended towards the track as it ran eastwards to a narrow defile between this range and a steep isolated kopje which commanded an open shingly plain beyond the defile, which was the farthest point of my previous reconnaissance. Several valleys radiated from this plain like spokes from a wheel-hub ; and not knowing for certain which led to Nakhlein, I had to requisition the services of the Haushabi and those of his retinue who knew the settlement. I could not rely on the local popu¬ lation, and dared not take the risk of ‘ making hay 5 in the wrong valley, so kidnapped a shepherd-lad as extra guide. The C.O. at once recognised this kopje as his first objective and the key to all subsequent operations. He asked me what force we should be likely to meet if opposition was encountered. I estimated the Dthanbari strength at three hundred men, counting casual fire-brands from neighbouring clans. I had written to the paramount chief of the Dairi—whose border lay along the crest of the main range overlooking Nakhlein—that this matter was between the ‘ Sirkal 5 and the Dthanbari, and if his tribe interfered en masse we would visit him next. However, a certain number of these tribesmen were almost sure to take part unofficially, and if we got into difficulties at Nakhlein, we should have the whole of the Dairi down on TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 59 us like a shot, and we might then have to meet nearly a thousand tribesmen. It was a very delicate military problem, but the C.O. tackled it like a man. The column moved quietly out behind a screen of mounted scouts which extended across the whole width of the plain. Hillsmen never give battle on level ground unless com¬ pelled, but I was glad of that screen, as it prevented the possibility of tidings being conveyed past us from the villages in our rear. From one of these a signal-shot had been fired on the previous day, when the head of our column was first sighted. It was answered on the Dthan- bari heights. I rode alongside the C.O. at the head of the column until dawn revealed the hill-spurs reaching down like tentacles to menace our left. I then pushed forward to that flank with my orderly, the local guide, and the Haushabi, who was attended by those of his retinue who knew Nakhlein valley, I wanted collateral evidence, and —anticipating our first contact in the broken ground between the spurs—thought it only right that some of the men whose slackness had caused the whole incident, should draw the first fire. With this object in view I led my party past the advance-guard and told them to extend, which they did in a fairly workmanlike manner, for most- up-country Arabs are sound skirmishers. As I had a long day before me, I remained in the saddle and kept the Haushabi at my stirrup. If no opposition was offered by the time we reached the mouth of the valley, I intended to send him and the local guide forward, with a letter which I had ready in my pocket, calling on the chiefs of Nakhlein to surrender or take the consequences. As we moved across, we picked up yesterday’s mes¬ senger returning with no answer to my letter, and the 6o THE LAND OF UZ news that he had left the Dthanbari building sungars on the slopes commanding the valley. The Haushabi representative became very nervous as the light grew stronger, and I was just wondering if he could be trusted as a messenger in event of no previous hostilities, when a spluttering fire opened on us as we rounded a spur, from the broken ground some two hundred yards ahead. A man in the dark blue kilt and shawl of a hillsman broke cover a hundred yards to our front and raced for the next ridge. He turned to fire on hearing no shots behind him, and I took a snap-shot from the saddle, but the mare was so unsteady that I know my shot went wide. So did his. I was not long in assuming a prone position while the Missis’ twitched nervously at the bridle on my arm, refusing either to stand still, or lie down, though the spurts of sand that flicked up round her, might have shown a mare of her age and experience the folly of her conduct. I had just jerked out my second empty ‘ shell’ and was exhorting her with point and eloquence when the camel- sowars on the left of the screen’—who must have dis¬ mounted from their ungainly beasts with the speed of a conjuring trick—came up on either hand, and opened a steady fire, whenever they saw a chance. I saw nothing of the Haushabi or his people as I looked round, but my orderly, who was not allowed to carry a carbine when acting ‘ sais,’ ran forward and led the mare to cover. Our opponents, who must have been merely an observation post, and were not in force, beat a hasty and unostentatious retreat, just as the big kopje away to our right front emitted rapid puffs of thin blue haze, like cigarette-smoke, and a heavy long-range fire rattled out on our main attack which had deployed and was advancing TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 61 unconcernedly through the halted screen. A series of rending crashes from the right of the line indicated that the guns had taken up their parable on the matter in hand, and with almost pedantic accuracy, for the shrapnel was bursting along the crest like a succession of giant cotton-pods. On these occasions it is impossible to foretell with certainty whether the column will have a ‘ walk-over 5 or get badly mauled. At the first shot fired the matter leaves the control of the ‘ political 5 who should, however, report to the Commanding Officer for instructions and give infor¬ mation or suggestions if invited to do so. I knew that at this stage in the proceedings the C.O. would be with the guns, so rode across, in rear of the firing-line. On leaving the broken ground for the open, the kopje and neighbouring heights began to crackle and pop like holly on a hot fire and made ‘ The Missis 5 most uneasy. Several resounding whacks among the sand- dunes and an occasional vicious scream as a bullet hit a stone, hinted that her fatal beauty was again attracting attention. She did not like it any better than I did, and on getting her head, laid her ears back and flickered across the plain like a startled rabbit. The guns were in. action on a low metamorphic outcrop of black rock, their muzzles just clearing the crest. From this ridge, the C.O. was watching the effect of their fire through his glasses. I dismounted and went up to him. “You see that hill where the shrapnel’s bursting,” he observed with his usual suavity. “Pm going to take it. Would you mind accompanying the left attack through that defile,—where it will again become the advanced guard—and guiding it to Nakhlein ? ” “Very good, sir.” 62 THE LAND OF UZ “ I don’t suppose I’ll see you again until we meet at the village—should you wish anything to be done before then, you can send me a message. 55 “Thank you, sir—Good morning. 55 Good luck to you. 55 Remounting, I cantered across to my original position, where trouble awaited me. The Haushabi and party had seen enough to satisfy their simple requirements, and when we were again about to advance refused to accompany me. My only excuse for the undignified proceedings which ensued was the vital importance of retaining the services of a responsible native guide—at least until we sighted Nakhlein. I first tried the suaviter in mo do, “ Look here, Hamed, 55 I remonstrated, “ this won’t do at all, you and that lad 55 (I indicated the local guide), “ undertook to show us the way in, and are being liberally paid for your services.” “ I don’t want your pay—of what use cash, without life to enjoy it ? 55 I gazed at him critically. ‘ ‘ Hamed—you’ve eaten something that has disagreed with you, and are taking a gloomy view of things. Cheer up.” ‘ ‘ I never thought there would be all this hubbub,” he objected, “ they ought to have run away when they saw us.” ‘ c You said they would last night—I reserved my opinion but felt sure they would not.” “Then why did you not tell me? 55 “ I did not want to spoil your sleep,” I said, soothingly. Besides, you ought to know your own countrymen better than I do.” “What do I know of these hill-baboons ?—You’ve lived among them.” TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 63 This was distinctly rude, the velvet glove dropped. Orderly,” I said in my best ‘ regimental 5 manner. “You will take charge of the local guide and move forward slowly with the pony, just keeping me in sight. Don’t come too close—I don’t want the mare hit. If the guide hangs back, tie him to the stirrup-leather. Keep your eye on me. If the Haushabi is hit (poor Hamed squirmed) I shall raise my arm above my head, you will then hitch the mare up to something and bring the lad on to me at once. If he won’t go on—prick him with your dagger, but don’t kill him, as I may want him. If I’m ‘ down ’ you must hustle the guide forward as fast as you can and make him show the road to the soldiers in front.” I scribbled a hasty note on my despatch book. “Give this to the first ‘ sirkali ’ (officer) that you meet, it vouches for you. There must be no mistake—Repeat your orders.” He was proceeding to do so when a voice cried: “Advance,” and grabbing friend Hamed by the arm I ran him out into the open after the firing line, which was advancing by alternate rushes across a bare belt of shingle (the ‘detritus’ from the kopje). Long picket-bullets ricochetting from hard stony ground have a most un¬ pleasant note, and I had to help poor Hamed along eventually, with both hands on his shoulders, and—I regret to record it—an occasionable gentle application of my knee a tergo. The left of the line had halted and was firing up at the crest of the kopje to cover the advance of the right attack. The Arabs were inclined to be ‘ sticky,’ for the guns had ceased firing—having done their share—but the Fusiliers would not be denied, and—covered by the left—the right attack took the kopje with a rush. The Arabs left early in 64 THE LAND OF UZ the proceedings, nor stood they on the order of their going. The Haushabi was jubilant. “Did I not say that they would not abide our onslaught ? 55 ‘ ‘ So you did, Hamed, but there’ll be more unpleasant¬ ness yet, before we reach the village. Come on! ” As we entered the defile we struck a little wadi with steep bush-clad banks from which we put up a few more ‘ out-liers.’ They turned to fire on us as they slipped away through cover, without effect it is true, but with a venomous intent that upset my jidus Achates , whom I had to extricate from a mimosa bush into which he had dived head first. He clung to my arm and babbled like a child being ducked. “Hamed!” I exclaimed, in tones of shocked reproof —for some of the men were glancing our way—“Think of your illustrious house! ” “ I am thinking of it,” he wailed, with wilful miscon¬ ception. “God bring me back to it in safety.” I dragged him down alongside me as the low spurs across the wadi opened viciously. “O Lord!” he ejaculated piously, as their projectiles hurtled past like a wisp of snipe. “Crraang!” snarled a section-volley from the kopje, above the staccato crackling of the extended right section. This, prone on the bare shingle in front of us, was firing rapidly to cover the advance of the left section as it doubled up the bed of the wadi and, screened by its banks, ‘ turned ’ those ridges in succession. When we again advanced, I looked round in vain for the Haushabi who, objecting to the hazard of the open plain, had gone to earth again in the wadi on our left. I had almost to dig him out this time and was very glad TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 65 when the towers of Nakhlein came into view, round the next spur. “That’s it,” he remarked with relief. “Is that the Dairi border?” I asked, pointing to a beetling crest on the sky-line at the head of the valley. ‘ ‘ It is,” he replied, ducking, as a ricochet got up from a stone in front of us with a spiteful shriek—“ Have I your permission to depart ? ” “You have,” I conceded, with feeling. “ Many thanks for your assistance, and apologies for the discomfort incurred. Fall back, and tell my orderly to let you ride, but don’t bring the mare too close to the fighting. See you later,” and I ran on to overtake the advance. ‘ ‘ God shield you,” he shouted after me, and I glanced round to see this truly forgiving soul trotting back along the wadi towards the defile. Lest I have given a wrong impression of his character, I mention here that he had the pluck to act as guide when greater men of his house held aloof for fear of incurring the enmity of the Dthanbari, who would have had his life for it, had they not been thoroughly over-awed. Nakhlein was of course not held. They had heard our guns, and knew something of their effect. The women, children and herds had left the evening before, soon after my letter arrived. Every fighting male had taken to the hills on either side of the valley, and the ridges which ran up towards the Dairi crest. The valley was barely half a mile wide at its mouth and narrowed up beyond the village to a boulder-strewn ravine rising steeply up a slope like a house-roof to its ridge-pole. On this no doubt the Dairi squatted with “watching briefs.” The Dthanbari had lacked time to build more than a few 66 THE LAND OF UZ hastily-constructed sungars, but one of more permanent character—well up on the heights to our right guarding the mouth of the valley, made itself very obnoxious by means of marked ranges, until taken in rear by the Native Infantry after some very arduous mountaineering. As we proceeded up the valley the Dthanbari maintained a desultory but annoying fire from the heights on either side, and—on approaching the village, one sniper, from a spur of the main range, made himself a nuisance with the persistent accuracy of his attentions. He must have been a fine shot for while I was discussing his exact range with an officer of the Dublins, previous to trying my luck, he sent a bullet between us, and as we were barely a yard apart and he was a good 500 yards off, this seemed sound shooting. I fired just under his smoke and he shut up for a bit, but I don’t think I did any good, for after we had occupied the village and the guns had come up into position, he began again—at least I seemed to recognise his style. This time he fired from a point further off along the ridge and bagged a mule of the 6th Mountain Battery, which so annoyed them that they fired a round of percussion shrapnel at him, just after his next shot. At the crash of the discharge, I looked towards his position, and saw a thick eddy of white smoke whirl up between the boulders from which he had fired, and mentally exclaimed, “Poor chap, what a mess he must be in!” Five minutes later, he was at it again, and this time a handful of infantry went for him in extended order, but he was not at home on their arrival. He had superb head-cover and a regular rifle-pit among those boulders, with two loop-holes, well apart, which he used alternately. There was the most cunning back-door imaginable leading into a ravine up which he had retreated. He was a sports- 6y TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 man and deserved to get clear, but he could have had no idea of judging distance or he ought to have done better than he did. Meanwhile the guns shelled the fortified towers on the eastern slope of the valley which drains the Dairi water¬ shed in a general southerly direction, and whilst our demolition party searched the main stronghold to see that no infirm old woman had been left behind, before they placed their charge, the detachment from Sulaik set to work with a box of matches among the huts and stockades. They succeeded beyond their most sanguine expectations, for having found a quantity of what appeared to be small dry logs, they piled them on, to assist the blaze. Now these logs were hives, hollowed out of two-foot trunk- sections of small trees, and were strongly held by bees apis fasciata, the * banded 5 honey-bee—a small, but strenuous insect, with a short temper and a long sting. They resented the situation, and when the fire grew hot, issued and made things still hotter for the party concerned. I was directing operations among the bajri crops, and glancing towards the village, to see how the demolition work was progressing, noticed some signs of excitement, and shortly afterwards the party arrived, followed by a relentless skirmishing-line of bees, which behaved in a most vindictive manner. These insects caused far more perturbation among the men than the desultory sniping from the heights which never ceased, and, except that it was harassed and kept down by our counter-fire, would have made our watering operations somewhat costly, for they had the range of their well-curb pretty accurately. I shall always associate Nakhlein with bees, bullets—the smell of hot green crops, and—pollen! I emerged from among those stifling eight-foot stalks, sneezing and water- 68 THE LAND OF UZ ing at the eyes as if with hay-fever. It was impossible to throw infantry into such a covert, so we walked the camelry through some of the crops, while the gun-camels ‘ processed’ among the rest. This was not mere purpose¬ less mischief, as may appear at first glance to the disgusted agriculturist at Home. The object of a punitive raid by a civilized power is moral effect rather than material damage, and while the latter penalty is inflicted on all defensible buildings, that their rebuilding may provide an outlet for any superfluous energy, no one wants to starve a recal¬ citrant tribe and so force them from the paths of rectitude into brigandage. This trampling of crops when nearly ready to harvest is symbolical, and means, “We’ve got you well beaten and would like you to remember it.” It also furnished a long-cherished jest at their expense, among the neighbouring clans, and inflicted a wholesome discipline, for although, in this dry climate low down among the hills, grain will ripen in any position if the stalk is not actually severed, the heads must be harvested with dispatch or they will shake out. Tribesmen do not use granaries or even threshing-floors among these foot-hills but store the heads in their towers (which were no longer available) husking out the grain as they require it. There¬ fore the whole community of both sexes was obliged to turn to at grinding corn—an essentially feminine task to which the only civilized parallel is compelling a man to wash the baby. The Dthanbari didn’t hear the end of that for quite a time. I don’t know which annoyed them most— to see their crops trampled through, their flanking towers shelled, or their main stronghold leap skywards with a roar into a dense column of dust; but annoyed they were— worse than their bees, and followed us up when retiring, as Arabs will—however hammered—as soon as they notice TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 69 a retrograde movement. The sungars—silenced by the Native Infantry—were now reoccupied, and lobbed long- range shots at the slow-moving column as it trailed towards the mouth of the valley. The return-fire of our ‘flankers 5 kept these gentry at arm’s length, but the rear¬ guard caught it rather hot as it approached the defile, thanks to an ammunition-camel which would sit down at awkward moments, with the natural depravity of these beasts. It was on this occasion that the Commandant of Salaik, in charge of the Native Infantry detachment 1 doing rear-guard, brought in a corporal of the Fusiliers, who, while lagging behind with true sporting instinct to have another shot at the tribesmen, got hit above the belt. I accompanied him and the other casualties back through the defile, while the main body of the Fusiliers who had reoccupied the big kopje commanding the entrance of the valley, searched the bush and broken ground beyond the rear-guard with steady section-volleys. These drove the hillsmen back and enabled the rear-guard to thread the defile without further incident. The guns meanwhile came into action on a ridge near their first position and opened to cover the retirement, causing the Haushabi his culminating mishap. He was sitting on my pony below the ridge in rear of the position, and when Number One gun went off with a stentorian bang, the mare jumped nearly out of her skin, and quite from under the Haushabi who was heavily thrown. Luckily he fell on sand, and was only shaken a little, but he declined to remount, and, when I saw him, was looking depressed. Poor Hamed! The guns discouraged further enterprise on the part of the hillsmen, which was fortunate, as the troops suffered J This detachment of the 102nd (Bombay Grenadiers) behaved very well. P. J. M. THE LAND OF UZ 70 much from thirst, and had a very bad time of it the last five miles across the plain. ‘ The Missis, 5 no longer skittish, did penance by providing successive ‘lifts’ to those who required them most. We got back to camp about sunset, after a rather trying day. The wounded corporal succumbed that night. I have known no case of recovery after a wound of this nature, inflicted by a flat-nosed bullet from a Le Gras rifle, which was then fast becoming the usual weapon in South Arabia. He was buried on the following afternoon (7th October, 1903), under a tamarisk on the right bank of the wadi below our camp towards es-Sok. I interviewed the head¬ man of that village and made him responsible for the grave, which was kept in proper order as long as I was in the country. I mention this because desecration has been known to occur among the more unenlightened hillsmen, though no decent Arab would either contemplate or permit such an act. The Dublin Fusiliers marched southward at moon-rise, across the littoral desert down towards the Lahej oasis. Of the other casualties, two, who had been severely wounded, were none the worse for that long night march and recovered. This shows that a camel-kirjawah or cacolet is not such a bad conveyance as it looks. The Dthanbari admitted twenty casualties—six killed. Hillsmen don’t count a man as wounded unless he is disabled for a month or two. Meanwhile, the Kotaibi had been seething for some time. This tribe lay west of the Dairi, among the hills to the east of our line of communications, their border actually extending across the road on to the Salaik plain (called locally Habilein). Here Wadi HSrd^bS, which drains the Dthala plateau southwards, takes a wide sweep- FORT SALATK. CAMEL SOWAR, ADEN TROOP (p. 76.) To face page 71 TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 7i ing bend round the eastern margin of Salaik plain, a stony thinly-bushed expanse commanded from a low ridge on the left bank of the wadi by a defensible serai known generally as Fort Salaik. The post was garrisoned by a detachment of the 102nd Bombay Grenadiers under a double-company commander (the Commandant of Salaik). The position was to a certain extent dominated by the village 1 on the same ridge about 400 yards to the north and considerably higher, whose inhabitants, however, were non-combatants and managed to preserve their neutrality during the ensuing trouble. In fact, the head-man of that village was on terms of friendship with the Commandant, and a worthy, peace-loving old soul. The Kotaibi were nominally under the suzerainty of the Amir of Dthala, but before we arrived on that plateau, had done pretty much as they liked, even to the extent of collecting transit dues at an alfresco ‘post’ in the tamarisk jungle, further down the wadi: from this they could command the Dthala road as it ran across the open plain to cut off the bend. Their action was the more striking in that the Al&wi—a small tribal unit lying between Jmil and Salaik, really owned the plain of Habilein if everyone had their rights, but being too weak to provide siyarah or local escort, let the Kotaibi act as lords of the manor on terms of mutual non-interference. Now, about these transit dues. Every chief in South Arabia levies them if he can, and would sooner make ten dollars in this way than fifty by legitimate toil or trade. Think of the delightful uncertainty of it, and the delirious rapture of fulfilment. You are being dunned by some enterprising local trader for that money advanced on last 1 Salaik comprises two villages, one on the right bank of the HSrdaba below the post and the other above it as described. 72 THE LAND OF UZ year’s crop which the locusts ate before it came to any¬ thing, your wives are bothering you for new shawls and silver ornaments, ‘ like other people,’ and perhaps you contemplate building, as well. The outlook is very gloomy and as you stand on the summit of your tower gazing abstractedly down the valley, you wonder why Allah ever made the world, or locusts, or women, or (as your mood gets blacker) even yourself. And then the head of a big caravan comes in sight and the sun of prosperity shines through the grey mists of doubt. You fire two signal shots to call your clan to arms in case they fight, and tell your women-folk to prepare coffee and light refreshments in case they don’t, and proceed according to immemorial custom. First, there is your recognised and official tax on every load (it isn’t the thing to tax ‘empty’ camels). Then if there are any loads of special value you work the ad valorem scale on your own estimate, which your victims (I mean clients) will accept sooner than open those loads and expose their contents to the casual pilferer. Of course they must take an escort from you, and these have got to be paid and fed. This you arrange to do, and take the cash for it, but that is no reason why the escort should not cajole and intimidate the convoy in their own interests, en route. Lastly you invite the leading merchants of the venture to take refreshments under your humble roof, and if by a judicious blend of tact and ferocity you do not manage to extort a ‘ loan ’ before they leave, you are not half a hillsman. In early days, I used to think—with the intolerance of youth—that all one required for this sport were a few retainers, rifles and ammunition, a castle on a commanding crag, and colossal cheek. The game is not quite so simple as that; you must use tact and discern- TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 73 ment or you will squeeze some influential merchant who happens to be vindictive and is prepared to pay for his revenge. Then you will have your suzerain down on you, or somebody who thinks he is your suzerain and is prepared to prove it. As a private individual, travelling among the lesser hill-tribes of the Kaur, I have occasionally, when hurried or hard-up, either bluffed or fought my way through the ‘ toll-gate, 5 but this is not a pastime to attract a nervous temperament and it is no use trying it among the bigger and better governed confederations to the North of the Kaur. There transit dues are kept within decent bounds, to protect—not discourage—traffic; and if you take advantage of open ground and a slack guard to wriggle past the post, you will have horsemen after you before you get clear. Of course in the more or less civilized sultanates on the coast (Shehr and Makalla and the Abdali) politer methods are employed. The Abdali Customs are positively urbane. I have often drawn rein at Dar-el-Amir, their frontier post, just beyond Aden limits, and watched a caravan going ‘ through the mill. 5 Suavity of manner accom¬ panied a strict official demeanour, at least while I was looking on ; and I almost think I saw receipts being given, but that is rather a bold statement. The whole system is, or should be, an insurance against the risks of travel, but the Kotaibi exactions were becoming an unmitigated nuisance and our hired native transport complained about them, as a hindrance to traffic. It was arranged that the Amir should compensate the Kotaibi and tell them to drop it. They did so for a bit, and then started the practice again, complaining that they had not received adequate 74 THE LAND OF UZ compensation, or something of that sort,—I am not very sure on this point, it was not my ‘ palaver, 5 I was acting as personal Assistant to the Resident for Arab affairs generally, and specialized in the little-known tribes of the North-East towards the ‘ Empty Quarter. 5 I merely took temporary charge at Dthala when required. At any rate the Kotaibi had got their backs up, and when the Commandant of Salaik was ordered to patrol the plain and prevent this practice, they withdrew to their hills and simmered. When we marched down the H&rdab& to lay waste Nakhlein, all was ominously quiet at Salaik—too quiet. The Commandant had a very sound grasp of the situation and expected trouble. I visited him on the 30th of September, and from what I saw then of local feeling, agreed with him. The Amir, however, expressed a contrary opinion, and his word prevailed, as the matter was, after all, his own ‘ affair. 5 On the other hand he expressed great concern in con¬ nection with the Dthanbari incident, forwarding a report that we had experienced a reverse, which naturally caused the Resident some anxiety, as I could not get a message through until the day after the fight. I am inclined to think that the Amir was not well served by his Intelligence Department, for he insisted that the Dthanbari had not been punished sufficiently, and would give further trouble. They never did in my time, and I hope to show later that their schooling had made an impression. The Amir had been good enough to send some of his askaris (retainers) down to Salaik as an observation post, on represen¬ tations through me from the Commandant. Yet the Kotaibi rising took us completely by surprise when it actually occurred, before any diplomatic measures could be employed. Of course if you have got to put up with TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 75 alien troops squatting on your pet particular plateau like locusts, you may just as well get them to punish your refractory vassals in their spare time. On October 25th I took a Sunday off and rode up Mount Jihaf with an officer of Outram’s Rifles (123rd) to visit a post up there, and lunch with its O.C. Jihaf is a big salient block presenting an abrupt serrated ridge towards the Dthala plateau, above which it rises some 2000 feet along its western margin. Early in the afternoon we strolled out on the crest to have a look at the camp which lay spread out on Dthala plateau like mushrooms on a lawn. A helio gave a few final flickers from below, just as we reached the edge, and a message from the G.O.C. was shortly handed in, recalling me at once—if not sooner, and stating that the down-country mail had been attacked and its escort wiped out by the Kotaibi. We took leave of our host and started down as soon as the ponies were saddled. I was riding a new purchase— an Abyssinian Arab—a well made up-standing grey gelding, but a bit of a ‘ slug 5 as I discovered when out¬ ward bound. I led, and since ‘ Gallant 5 appeared sulky at turning out so early in the afternoon, drove in both spurs with emphasis. He then travelled—I have still a quite vivid impression of that journey down the moun¬ tain. The road which had been made by our troops, hung high above a deep ravine and finally descended rather steeply on to the shingly bed of the main wadi. It had been carefully made, and was intersected every hundred yards or so, by ‘ Irish bridges 5 (stone-lined open culverts some six feet wide) but the drop into the ravine was of course not guarded, as it was seldom abrupt enough to be unsafe to infantry and the road was not intended for y6 THE LAND OF UZ mounted men. The hillside had been cut back vertically on the inner margin. ‘ Gallant 5 took the first curve with an abandon that gave me a brief but absorbing view of that ravine some 200 feet down past my near stirrup, but the Irish bridges were the worst incidents en route , for the gelding was a ‘ free lepper 5 with hazy ideas as to ‘ distance 5 or ‘ take off 5 and provided me with a fresh sensation at each of them, for I dared not interfere with him at the pace we were going. It was a relief when he struck the level shingle (hard!) and stretched out into a slashing gallop for camp. I was just in time to attend a palaver. I learnt that the downward mail, consisting of an Arab sowar with the mail-bags on a trotting camel, escorted by two camel-sowars, one from Aden Troop (in charge) and the other from the mounted infantry company of the 123rd had been ambuscaded on the stage between H&rd&ba springs and Salaik. There is a dense tamarisk jungle on either side of the track which lies along the shingly bed of the wadi. At a point rather more than half way to Salaik, fire was opened from the tamarisk on the party and the Aden Troop sowar, riddled with bullets, lurched from the saddle, dead. The Arab post-orderly was wounded but escaped to Salaik, whence a patrol hurried to the spot. Meanwhile the Sepoy from the 123rd Rifles, whose camel had been shot under him, had taken a crashing fall on the hard shingle but must have defended himself stubbornly. When the patrol got up they found him in a dying state behind his dead camel with a litter of .303 ‘ shells 5 at his side. He had evidently, as far as the posi¬ tion of his wounds could testify, been knocked out of time by a bullet from the high bank of the wadi and afterwards fired into at close quarters as he lay on the ground. He TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 77 was shockingly injured and died soon after they brought him in to Salaik. There was no trace of the aggressors, but the dak-sowar recognised his assailants as Kotaibi. The Commandant reported all quiet at Salaik itself. The Resident and G.O.C. decided to take a column out himself, and follow the matter up. As the perpetrators of the outrage had got clear away, there was no need for much haste, so the column was to march on Thursday morning and to be composed of two hundred Sepoys of the 123rd, a company of the Hampshires, and two guns from the 6th Mountain Battery. The Colonel of the 123rd was to be in command, the Commandant of Salaik to report daily. However, the evening before the column was to start, a messenger got through from Salaik with a letter from the Commandant reporting that the Habilein patrol had been ambuscaded from the tamarisk belt further down the wadi near the former Customs post of the Kotaibi, presumably by members of that tribe, who had killed seven sepoys and a havildar. Another sepoy had been wounded but got back to the fort. The post was beset. The Commandant had called for volunteers and brought in the bodies, which had not been mutilated (this is not an Arab custom). Their rifles and bandoleers had been taken, with one exception. In this case the body was prone with rifle at the ‘ present.’ It was lying some little distance from the others and had probably been over¬ looked, for the aggressors no doubt knew that the firing would be heard at the post, and reprisals inflicted if they tarried. The Commandant’s messenger was a. non-combatant from the Al2wi village of Salaik. Of course no decent tribesman would slay a non-combatant Arab except by accident, but the Kotaibi had tasted blood and had he en- THE LAND OF UZ 78 countered any of them, I doubt if they would have spared him, certainly not if they had even suspected his errand. His was a meritorious service and was duly recognised. The Amir’s askaris, down there on observation duty and as a means of communication in an emergency, declined one and all to avail themselves of this opportunity to earn distinction and reward. The messenger also reported verbally that Salaik was invested by the Kotaibi. The G.O.C. at once decided to launch the column that night in charge of the Colonel of the 123rd, and warned me to accompany it. Insistent bugles sang through the twilight and were answered by the trumpet’s mellow tenor from the 6th Mountain Battery Lines next door to us. The G.O.C., his A.D.C. and myself were dining with their Mess that night. We kept the appointment and after dinner they all turned out to see the column off. The moon had just entered her second quarter giving us a fair light till mid¬ night, time enough to get down off the plateau through the irksome Khareba pass. I was riding the cat-footed ‘ Missis ’ again, for I thought my new purchase might get us both disliked in a column threading that pass by night ; so my sais brought him along with the water- tanks in rear, to act as my second charger if required. The column halted near the head of the pass to straighten out its tail, and as I drew rein the G.O.C. came up and with a hand on the mare’s neck, emphasised his final instructions. “To relieve Salaik, to thrust the Kotaibi back across the wadi leaving Salaik plain clear for the arrival of the supporting column, and to keep the Kotaibi at arm’s length from the post.” He added that he would be down at HSrdaba springs with reinforcements to-morrow afternoon and that I was to report to him there, if possible, TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 79 after the engagement. I acknowledged my orders while keeping a wary eye on the mare’s ears lest she should make a grab at the Chief, for she lacked the manners of a perfect lady. The General’s parting words, as the column moved on, were: “Try and get into touch with their chiefs but insist on their coming to you, don’t be lured into the hills. Good-bye.” I saluted and rode on down the pass. We were glad of the moon before we got to the bottom, the going was none too good by daylight. It was a trying march for infantry. As the column trudged along the level shingle of wadi H&rd&b&, long-drawn ululating cries from the heights on our right, brisked the men up considerably, for they could not know that the local hills- men were merely signalling our advance to the Kotaibi on the same principle that prompts most normal boys to extend their covert sympathy to a scapegrace. The yell of a tribal advance is like the quavering whistle of an express locomotive passing through a station : a vibrating high-pitched scream ending in a wild shriek. When retiring they utter a series of long-drawn cries, a half-tone lower. In this case, the yells we heard were of the first kind followed by the second, and meant “Look out! they’re advancing, we can’t stop them.” Such cries in the reverse order would, of course, denote “they’re retiring! come on in force and give them a hot time.” By the way, I mentioned this incident to the Amir when I next saw him, and he said it must have been eagles! Like many potentates, who lead a sedentary life, he was far from sound on Natural History. It was fairly close, down in that H&rd&b2 ravine between towering heights like the banks of a Titan railway-cutting where the dust hung like a silver haze in the light of the setting moon. The column made good time to the So THE LAND OF UZ springs, which we reached just before dawn, lying down as we came in, under the shelter of a few ready-pitched E.P. tents to snatch a little sleep. We were astir soon after sunrise and left the springs at 8 o’clock, the officer in charge of that post having gone on ahead with his detachment to reconnoitre. As our advance-guard approached the bend which curves round Habilein we met this reconnais¬ sance returning with the information that the Kotaibi were in force along the edge of the plain below Salaik, which was being attacked from the east. I left my pony in the wadi and pressed forward with our leading scouts up the caravan track which here ascends the right bank. "While trudging up the incline I heard in the distance ahead of us a shrill childish treble singing a nursery ditty common among the hills for the last decade or two, relating how a former Sultan of the Abdali went with his plainsmen against certain refractory vassals in the Subaihi foot-hills and had to be extricated from their borders by British diplomacy at the price of his suzerain sway. On topping the rise on to the plain we saw two tall riding-camels slinging towards us along the track at a jog-trot under heavy loads of boxes and big canvas bags. It was the parcel-mail from Home! The rear-most camel was hitched on to the leader’s tail and on top of the front load was perched a very small boy with a very large mouth, a pleasant smile and a wisp of cloth around his waist as his sole attire. His song stopped and he pulled into a walk, then catching sight of our column below in the wadi, he drew up exclaiming in Arabic with boyish glee: “ Ya Salim Said x -al harb!!—Great Scott! War! ! ” 1 The name of a former tribal hero in Southern Arabia, where the expression is in wide colloquial use, owing to its alliteration, to denote astonishment. I have given its nearest equivalent in English slang. TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 81 I addressed him with all the dignity I could assume from beneath the level of his dangling feet. “What brings you here with the King’s mail? Where is the appointed stage-rider ? ” “Father’s not very well,’ he piped, “so I’ve brought the loads on.” “ I’ll speak to your father, when next we meet, ,, I replied severely, “but for the mercy of Allah, our ‘ parasil,’ and your camels were now in the hands of the Kotaibi, and you, perhaps, stretched out on the plain yonder, with your throat cut.” “ La t’kul—Not much! ” he remarked with an emphatic shake of his touzled head. “These are AlSwi camels, and v the parasil are in trust. We Al&wi have no quarrel with the Kotaibi; and a boy, unarmed, is safe from them. Father said so.” “Perhaps,” I objected, “but the ways of baboons and hill-folk, who knows them for certain? And what of a 0 chance bullet ? ” The Will of God,” he moralized, and added wistfully, “ I have never yet seen fighting, may I wait here a little? ” Certainly not! get those camels down into the wadi before the shooting begins, and push along; all’s safe between here and the springs where you’ll hand over.” I saw his lower lip droop and observed consolingly, “ There’ll probably be plenty left for you to see, on your way back this afternoon. Here, take” (I reached up to his dis¬ engaged hand) ‘ ‘ and when you get back tell your father from me that you’re a better man than he is. You’re not to cross the plain, remember, on your way down ; keep in the wadi until you reach Salaik, and call at the post, where you will be told whether to proceed or not. I lay this order upon you. Go in peace.” 82 THE LAND OF UZ He raised his right palm to his head and knotting a bright new silver rial 1 into a corner of his loin-cloth, he drummed on the camel’s neck with his naked heels and the cortege slouched off down the incline. Meanwhile our skirmishers had extended and were quartering the plain towards the wadi below Salaik. Impressed by their business-like advance the Kotalbi scouts broke cover from isolated bushes after a valedictory shot or two at long range, and scurried for the wadi, whose right bank along the reach below Salaik awoke with energy as the fire went crackling down our skirmishing line. Fort Salaik must have been awaiting this development and re-opened with a fierce strenuous rattle to enfilade that reach, and the Kotaibi skirmishers were pushed back across the wadi. I had been ordered to get in touch with the Commandant so ran down into the wadi, and jumping on the mare sent her scuttling along the shingle for the post, without receiving any hostile attentions. The Commandant met me in the wadi at the foot of the ‘col’ on either eminence of which stand the village and the post, respectively. I handed over my pony to his orderly and following him up the slope, passed the glowing embers of a large fire which emitted a faint hot smell of animal charcoal. I sniffed enquiries and the Commandant, pausing, remarked pensively: “That’s all that’s left of my best havildar.” Having only dealt with Mussulmans I failed to grasp his meaning for a moment, and then it flashed upon me that the havildar was a Hindoo and had received the funeral rites of his creed. I tendered my condolences. “ Come on up,” he replied, “and watch the men getting 1 The Maria Theresa dollar, worth about two shillings then, locally. TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 83 some of their own back.” He led the way into a little ‘ keep 5 on the crest, with guard hut annexed, all ‘ home¬ made 5 of undressed stone. There was excellent head- cover, and all the sepoys who could find room in the little redoubt, were busily engaged in a rifle-duel with two kopjes to the east of the post, at ranges of 400 and 600 yards respectively. The nearer kopje was most importunate. I looked round to see what the column was doing. “They won’t want you yet awhile,” observed the Commandant. “Look, there go the guns.” It was a sight worth looking at. About five hundred yards north of Salaik ‘ col 5 and completely commanding it, was a much higher razor-backed ridge that silhouetted against the sky as if cut out of carbon-paper. Up this the gun-mules were crawling like flies up a plate. The fact that there was only room for one gun to come into action on the top of the ridge, may convey some impression of this feat. Meanwhile the Commandant showed me round the post to see the various fakements he had introduced since I was last there, for the benefit of the Kotaibi. A barbed-wire fence encircled the position, with empty tins strung along it each containing a pebble or two, and in certain loopholes were chocks of wood in pairs, into which a rifle could be placed to sweep the eastern glacis which had too easy a slope to suit the defence. The western face overlooking the wadi was far more abrupt. Overlooking this were loopholes with similar arrangements, enabling several rifles to bear automatically on the well-curb down below in the bed of the wadi. The well was also engirdled with barbed-wire and empty tins. “The old Sheikh up at the village,” the Commandant remarked, ‘ ‘ told me that the Kotaibi would probably try and taint our well by THE LAND OF UZ 84 emptying a tin of kerosene down it. He said it was a favourite trick. Is it ? 55 “I’ve heard of it being done,” I replied, “but not among decent Arabs.” “Of course,” he added, “we’ve always got a reserve supply of water up at the post so we should not have been altogether baffled, but the idea riled me and hence this trifling trap. I’ve kept a few 12-bore buckshot cartridges handy against the same contingency, but they’ve never tried it yet.” Meanwhile troops were lunching down below, sheltered completely by the banks of the wadi. Besides the two kopjes mentioned, the Kotaibi held a high-banked wadi between them, running parallel with the Hardabii and eventually joining that channel a mile or so further down, just above Jmil hill. Between this and the main wadi was arable land, open dusty ground cut into sections by low ‘ bunds ’ or irrigation banks, barely two feet high, built of dried earth and intended to retain alluvial water on the fields. This tributary wadi flowed through a big gap in the Kotaibi hills—known as Kariati valley—and beyond it was broken stony ground which gradually rose in low ridges towards that tribe’s western hills, whose nearest crest was some two miles away at the outside. The further kopje, afterwards known as the yellow kopje, dominated all the surrounding country and was the key to the position. What we did not know then, was that it was shaped almost like a horse-shoe with the ‘ toe ’ pointed towards us. This made it very difficult to ‘ turn,’ as will be seen later. The C.O. had thoroughly grasped his tactical problem after a careful reconnaissance, and being a wily old warrior with much practical experience on the Indian frontier, decided to maintain a leisurely containing TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 85 fire, while his men ate the lunch they had in their haver¬ sacks, and to launch his real attack after the fierce noon-tide heat had spent itself. The preliminary step was heralded by a brisk crackle of firing which ran along the right bank of the wadi up to our ‘ keep. 5 Here the Commandant and myself were attending to a sportsman who was making himself very obnoxious from two alternate positions on either side of a boulder high up on the flank of the near kopje. After several well-meant efforts, we watched him fire from position Number one, and then, sighting on position Number two, fired simultaneously at his smoke. The prolonged silence that ensued from that spot aroused in us grave hopes. The defenders of that kopje must have begun to realize that an advance was impending which would leave their position somewhat ‘ in the air, 5 for their fire dwindled and died down, as they began to trickle back across the broken ground in rear. No sooner was this observed than the first attack of Outranks Rifles dashed forward with a verve and elan that carried them forward well into the open before the Kotaibi realized what was happening. Then they awoke in earnest, and all along the front of their position from the tamarisk belt on the far bank of their wadi, from the ridges beyond, and the yellow kopje, the incessant popping of their rifles was knit in one con¬ tinuous rattle, while the dust-spurts flickered up and down the attack’s extended line. The latter hurled themselves prone behind the next ‘bund 5 along which the hostile bullets danced with thwarted malice. Above the crackle of our fire rose a series of strenuous bangs. The two guns were searching the Kotaibi position across the wadi. Rings of white smoke floated over the tamarisk-tops beneath which I could see, through my glasses, that twigs 86 THE LAND OF UZ and branches were dropping in all directions. A Maxim rapped spitefully below us. I refilled my bandoleer and picked up my carbine gingerly for it was unpleasantly hot from its contribution in support of the attack. Remarking that I might be wanted now, below, I thanked the Commandant for his entertainment. “Good luck—Take care of yourself— Good people are scarce,” was his farewell. “Rather!” I replied, picking my way down the slope. I found the C.O. by the Maxim—I also found in my breast-pocket the remains of a biscuit which the C.O. supplemented from his haversack. The Maxim resumed her belt, and—after survey of the position with field- glasses—we came to the simultaneous conclusion that the guileful hillsmen whose heavy firing from one of the ridges first attracted the Maxim’s attention had left their dark blue turbans in an orderly line along the crest for our amusement. Imagining their ribald remarks while that devil-storm swept above them I restrained with difficulty symptoms of unseemly mirth. The C.O. smiled appreci¬ atively as he changed the objective, then turning to me remarked that he was about to launch his main attack on the yellow kopje and asked me to hunt up the officer in charge of the Hampshire detachment and accompany him with all available men to a point further down the H&rd&b&, thence making a turning movement from the right. I proceeded on my errand and left the wadi, with the detachment, at the jungle-belt from which the Habilein patrol had been ambuscaded. We had scarcely emerged from the tamarisk when some ready tactical genius on the yellow kopje grasped our modest purpose and we came under a brisk fire which, in spite of the range—some 800 yards—was unpleasantly accurate. The arable land we TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 87 were crossing was absolutely open and very dusty, so that the keen-sighted tribesmen could see the ‘ break 5 of their bullets. We advanced until the branch wadi and the crops on its bank became a menace to our front and right, for I had definite information that a lot of spearmen were ‘ out 5 that day, of whom we had as yet seen nothing. That steep-banked wadi (which shrapnel could not search) seemed ideal cover for such a contingent, for its sides were so high and precipitous that it could only be reconnoitred from the edge, and afforded an easy line of communication with the enemy’s main position. The crops themselves could screen any number of observant spearmen and we mustered twenty-one all told, counting the subaltern and myself. Just then with a startling twang a round of percussion shell flew over our heads and landed with a ‘ plop ’ into a ball of drifting smoke across the wadi. The Road Commandant —a gunner—who had scented the battle from afar, (Nubat-Dakim, to be accurate) had brought two 7-pr. M.L. camel-guns into action on the foot-hills of Jmil, at a very opportune moment. We fell back from our some¬ what precarious position to the nearest available cover until our debatable ground had been searched, and then pressed rapidly forward. After a little opposition from one or two lingering riflemen on the hither bank, we dropped down into the bed of the wadi and made things very lively for a knot of tribesmen who were squatting in fancied security about 400 yards further up. Even from here we could not turn the deceptive kopje. That tribal cluster must have been the observation point of the Kotaibi reserve, who, misled by our somewhat aggressive approach, probably took us to be the advance-guard of a formidable force moving up the wadi, for, trickling rapidly down the reverse slope of the kopje to the lively accompani- 88 THE LAND OF UZ ment of our fire, the defence retired towards their foot-hills considerably hastened by parting benedictions from the Road Commandant. When we got back to Salaik I was much distressed to find the Commandant of that post severely injured with a badly shattered thigh and several flesh wounds. He had been shot down at the head of the main attack and while firing from the ground drew repeated shots from the Kotaibi position at pistol-range. Our casualties were very light considering the nature of the enemy’s position and their stubborn character. The native stretcher-bearers attended the wounded as they lay in the open, with devoted heroism, for tribesmen in action are not troubled by subtle distinctions, and it is always trying to be exposed to a heavy fire but unable to return it. As soon as all details were in, I rode back up the H&rdabS. to report to the G.O.C. who, starting at daybreak, had just reached the springs with the remainder of the troops. The heights on the left bank are within Kotaibi borders, but there was very little risk attached to the undertaking as the hillsmen could not know of my movements, and would hardly have dared to lie up in the tamarisk along the route after their reverse, lest—with a formidable force at each end of the stage—their retreat should be cut off. Any firing from the heights would have to be out of sight from either post for fear of attracting the attention of the guns. On my return journey, a solitary sniper did try his luck from the heights about half way between the posts. I was going ‘ half speed,’ and heard his bullet take ground on the shingle a length or two behind. Not wishing to give him an uninterrupted shot at my back, after I had passed, I slung my Mauser pistol forward, ran the leaf up the tangent to TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 89 300 yards and using it carbine fashion, swung round in the saddle and despatched half a magazine at him in Maxim time. I saw the dust fly, at the roots of the bush from which he fired, and hoped that the other four were there or thereabouts. ‘ The Missis, 5 shocked at the disturbance, fled in horror round the next bend, and the incident closed. Next day (Friday, Oct. 30th) the G.O.C.’s column marched down from H&rd&ba springs and bivouacked at Ulub—an indifferent well in a deep nullah on Salaik plain. The post was being sniped persistently, and with some accuracy. On Saturday afternoon two desultory snipers fired from the banks of the branch wadi about 500 yards east of the post. After a few ranging shots, at our one and only mess-tent, they succeeded in killing an Indian servant while taking orders from his master (the Colonel of the 123rd, who had employed him for years). The poor man was shot through the lungs with a heavy picket-bullet, and died soon after we had carried him to cover. A little later, our gunner officer came strolling up the path from the wadi on to the ‘ col. 5 ‘ ‘ Look out E- 55 we shouted, “they’ve got our range. 55 He started a perfunctory double, and had hardly taken the first stride when the dust flicked up at his heels and a ricochet whirred up off the ridge and soared across the wadi. The gunner received our congratulations and explanations with polite interest. That morning I had attended my Chief, accompanied by the Colonel to a point above Salaik village whence we reconnoitred the present Kotaibi position. The deep V-shaped gap of Kariati valley between the hills to our front denoted the front-door into their territory. On the left—almost in the jaws of the gap—were three THE LAND OF UZ 90 towers in wide echelon while their foot-hills stretched away across our front to the extreme right, with their louring heights in the background. There seemed every prospect of a lively fight on the door-mat as we entered. To attempt the initial stages by daylight would have been costly, for although we now held the yellow kopje in force, the broken ground and ridges beyond could not be searched in advance, while the gap itself indicated very ominous possibilities, and to make matters worse a long line of low hills led up to it parallel with our line of advance on the extreme left. Through our glasses we could distinguish sungars on some of the ridges to our front. It was a problem in tangled tactics. The Colonel cut the Gordian knot by suggesting a night- attack, whereupon the General pointed out that the Amir’s men would not act as guides under such conditions, and that no local man would come forward for such a service. The Colonel glanced at me, and gently hazarded the opinion that the political officer would perhaps be able to undertake the task. That officer—who was awaiting this opening—came to attention, and volunteered for the enterprise. “But you’ve never been there,” objected the G.O.C., looking towards the Kariati Gap. “No, sir—but I think I could ‘ glass out’ a suitable line from here.” “You know the probable consequences of a blunder? ” “ I do, sir.” “That’s settled then—you will hold yourself in readi¬ ness after midnight to-morrow.” “ Very good, sir”—I saluted and ‘ fell away’ to make a detailed study of the terrain through my glasses. I fol- TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 9i lowed out a practicable line over Salaik ridge, down into the wadi which lay immediately below us, parallel to the one which had served our purpose so well against the yellow kopje, and, like it, joining the H&rd&bS, on its left bank below the post. The most feasible ascent up the further bank occurred opposite a large white stone in the bed of the wadi. The slope was steep it is true, and bushy ; but did not appear of any great height, nor did the bush seem thick, and I noticed with satisfaction that the bush was tamarisk, and therefore thornless. At sunset I rode out from the post up the Hard&b& towards Ulub to retrace the road at dusk. I took old ‘ Gallant, 5 as I wasn’t sure who might be about, and wanted a pony that was steady under fire. As I approached the path up on to Salaik plain, I saw a man crouched among the tamarisk about fifty yards away on my left; dropping the reins on the gelding’s neck, I slipped a cartridge into my .303 carbine and covered him. The old pony stood like a rock. The man stepped out on to the shingle with his carbine at the trail. “ Sling your carbine, or I’ll shoot you,” I remarked with some asperity. He did so. “Now, who and whence are you ? ” I continued. “ Pm one of the Amir’s asakir,” he replied, “and am patrolling the wadi by his orders to safeguard traffic,”— this was all very well, but some further test was indicated, for I did not recognise the man and had no desire to get a bullet in the back as I rode past. “ State the Amir’s pre¬ sent whereabouts,” I rejoined, “ and mention the names of his sons.” He answered correctly. The Amir was up at mrdaba springs and had reported himself sick. I lowered my carbine and observed that he was a queer sort of patrol, and were there any more of him? He appeared to have been left blooming alone, so 1 suggested 92 THE LAND OF UZ that he should either patrol more obviously or lie up entirely out of sight in the tamarisk. Otherwise—in view of the evil fame of that reach—he might encounter some one who would fire first and then make enquiries, which might be of no practical benefit to him. I dined at Salaik post with the 123rd, the Colonel advis¬ ing me to turn in early, as the sentry would call me at midnight. He wished me luck, and handed me a packet of ‘dum-dum 5 ammunition. “I don’t recommend their use as a general rule,” he remarked, ‘ ‘ but if you meet trouble, it will be at short range, and these may be useful.” Having experienced the practical impossibility of stopping a hillsman at close quarters with a solid .303 bullet, I was really grateful for the Colonel’s little present. I hunted round until I found a vacant charpoy near the quarter-guard, and curling up in my blanket under the brilliant light of the overhead moon, was soon asleep. “ Sahib,” remarked a low voice at my elbow, “ Atcha” (very good), I replied, looking up at the sentry whose fixed bayonet flared blue in the moonlight, “ Barah budji hai” (it’s twelve o’clock). I sprang up, and the sepoy resumed his beat. I had written a few remarks on current tribal affairs, overnight, for the General’s information in case of untoward events ; and while waiting for some coffee, posted up my diary by the light of the waxing moon now riding low in the west. I noticed that it was Sunday, November 1st, and All Saints’ Day, which roused a transient thought of the unfavourable impression which my abrupt and unkempt appearance would create in that quarter,—if I ever reached it! Venus hung like a guiding lamp above the Kariati Gap, and I found that her ‘ bearing ’ coincided with my line to the tribal sungars—after leaving the wadi. I decided to use her. TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 93 instead of messing about with a luminous compass in the dark, as her right ascension would not appreciably alter before she set. After swallowing something hot and wet that reminded me of coffee, I took a biscuit to eat on the way, and rode up the H&rd&b& and out across Salaik plain to Ulub, where I reported to the General, who was still up, and wished me success, remarking that my confidence was at least not that of inexperience. The left wing of the Hampshires—some two hundred strong—followed me from Ulub, with a remarkably level-headed captain as O.C. I left my pony with the sais in the bed of the H&rd&ba beneath Salaik, whence a strenuous climb led to a still more complicated drop into its tributary. Here a Maxim pony dropped with an emphasis audible up at the head of the column, but I hoped for the best. That the animals ever got down that slope at all testifies to the zeal and resolution of the Maxim party. The moon was down behind the hills, but there was some light, and on reaching my white stone 1 observed with horror that the bank was far higher than it looked from above, and the thin tamarisk bush was really a hairy jungle of tallish trees. I got the O.C. to halt the detach¬ ment in the wadi while I searched vainly for a more prac¬ ticable ascent to suit the Maxim train. At last I had to admit that it was here or nowhere. The O.C. was very decent about it. “There’s not much wrong with this,” he observed, going to covert, and sure enough it was not so bad as it looked ; but I should like to have seen those truly gifted ponies negotiate that bank, as they must have done, for the Maxim was in action bright and early. Once clear of the wadi, the ‘ going 5 was a trifle easier— across a stony plain, where the O.C. thoughtfully extended a few picked men on either side of me, with fixed bayonets, 94 THE LAND OF UZ to give me a better chance if we stumbled on a ‘ wasp’s nest.’ At the false dawn he extended a screen of scouts across his front, until its left skirted the low hills that ran up to the Gap, parallel to our advance. These he crowned at early dawn, thereby securing his exposed flank, for on our right was the yellow kopje and the line to be taken by the main attack. Venus served me faithfully, and at 4.30 a.m. we came on a few struggling mimosae, which indicated the edge of the bush-belt in front of the enemy’s right, and the ridge of the foot-hills began to loom up in the light of approaching dawn. We pushed forward quietly until I found myself within a hundred yards of our objective—at the time appointed, 5 a.m.—and my responsibility in this connection was over. The rest was neat and expeditious. The O.C. occupied the ridges to his front, which were not even held by the enemy! The Kotaibi had not anticipated our morning call, for they knew we could get no guides, and were bivouacking some distance in rear of their advanced posi¬ tions, which we reached first, to their great annoyance. Angry yells—shouts of ‘ al hamran ’ (the red-faces)—a few dropping shots answered by a rolling fire from our line, and we had made good—along the right of their position. At 6.30 the main attack came up in style, heralded by a full overture from the guns. At 7.15, having crowned the heights to the right of the Gap, there was a general advance, and by 8 o’clock the Kariati gorge was ours, except for a few snipers high up on the left, who lay low and stung at us occasionally like moribund wasps. We formed a big camp at some pools in the Bujer ravine, just above its junction with the main gorge, picketing the TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 95 surrounding heights to keep down snipers, who were at first rather a nuisance. That afternoon the Dthala political officer did some salu¬ tary work with a demolition column in the Mazra valley. He then went on up the Bujer to Suman across the main ridge N.E. of Kariati camp, returning after receiving the submission of the local clans, who were disarmed. It was generally believed that the Kotaibi chief would come in after the forcing of the Kariati gorge ; personally I thought not, for had I been in his sandals, starvation in the hills among the baboons would have seemed preferable to a humiliating surrender before a weak suzerain backed by alien might. There were still a lot of armed clans in the hills between us and Dthi-Hagerah (the Kotaibi capital), and on November the 6th a permanent advance was made to Suman, a village some miles up the Bujer, by the Dthala column. The G.O.C. waited until the Buffs arrived from Aden to hold the mouth of the Bujer, and then, accompanied by his A.D.C. and myself, followed to Suman. On arriving there we learnt that a demolition column retiring from a neighbouring settlement after inflicting a lesson, was being followed up by the tribesmen. A subaltern of the 6 th Mountain Battery and two guns went out to cover the retirement, and as some of the Amir’s troops were out with this column, I accompanied the guns to prevent mistakes, for those askaris wore no distinctive uniform that an ordinary European could recognise. We reached a spur overlooking the Bujer ravine, which winds through a deep gorge round the S.E. edge of the Suman plateau. To our front the valley stretched away towards a long straight-backed ridge, down which the column was threading its way into the Bujer. Across the ravine on the right of our position was a cluster of the 96 THE LAND OF UZ Amir’s troops behind a big rock. Distant firing pro¬ claimed the approach of the column, and I began to ‘ glass ’ carefully while the gunner took his ranges. As the sounds of strife echoed along the valley I drew his attention to the conduct of the Amir’s askaris, who were sitting behind that rock and firing into the air. We felt like pitching a round of percussion shrapnel at them, but agreed that it would be only a waste of ammuni¬ tion, and might be misunderstood. There was, however, a more serious side to their presence in the field. The rear¬ guard, composed of a detachment of the Hampshires under a subaltern, knew that these askaris were ‘out’ that day, and mistook a body of the angry hillsmen for them. The hillsmen fired into the detachment at close range, inflicting eight casualties, one of whom—mortally wounded—was brought off in a most gallant manner by the subaltern in charge. The two guns fired some forty rounds of shrapnel between them at ranges varying between 500 and 800 yards, and there was some very accurate ‘ timing,’ so an impression was probably made. I particularly noticed one long-range shot at about 1500 yards as the Kotaibi retired leisurely up the far ridge under the impression that they were out of range. This surmise was incorrect. The actual casualties incurred by the Kotaibi never transpired, but in conversation with a member of that tribe some months later, he alluded to the guns with such forceful emphasis that I am inclined to estimate heavily the casualties on this occasion. I did not press enquiries, as it would not have been tactful. On Sunday (November 8 th) the column started on its penultimate march for the Kotaibi capital, re-entering the Bujer a few miles above the point where it had left it to reach the Suman plateau. TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 97 The country was extremely difficult. All along on the right was a lofty range of rocky heights, the continued pos¬ session of which was the General’s chief anxiety. On the left of the line of route ran the long wall-like ridge of the Bukri border. This tribe had given pledges of neutrality. A detachment of the 123rd Rifles, which the General asked me to accompany, was to drive the enemy along the high range, supported by the fire of the two 7-pounders from the other side of the valley, while a strong detachment of infantry cleared the low broken hills on that flank. Between these two flanking parties the main body, with the 6th Mountain Battery, was to push up the tortuous and broken valley in which the enemy appeared to be in considerable force. We on the right were materially assisted in our somewhat arduous task by the Major’s camel-guns, which from some remote point across the valley lobbed percussion shell with methodical precision at a very trouble¬ some little hog-backed ridge which might otherwise have been really obnoxious, as we had to take it before we could get past. There is no doubt that the fear of bom¬ bardment had left unoccupied the first tower we encoun¬ tered, though the previous occupants and their friends made it hot for us from the broken country beyond. Here we had to sit tight until the general advance got abreast of us. It was very difficult to keep in touch with the rest of the ‘ scheme,’ as the terrain was very mountainous, and we encountered a good deal of opposition, some of the enemy firing on us in the rudest manner with Lee-Metfords taken from the massacred patrol. It was a very strenuous day, and when at sunset we rushed another small hamlet stuck up on the edge of nowhere, with a drop of a thousand feet or so beyond, I felt that I wanted no more mountaineering that day. I was really thankful that the defence cleared 98 THE LAND OF UZ out at an early stage in the proceedings through their back door down the precipitous slope into the Ewig-keit. A subaltern with a detachment of the Hampshires joined us here, and being rather short of water and ammunition, I decided to drop in on the column and report. It was certainly a drop, and in the growing dusk, too. I had a few hill-scallywags with me, and took the most active man to show the way down if he could, leaving the rest up at the hamlet to make themselves useful and main¬ tain communication if required. I can’t recommend twilight mountaineering. It got so dark that we both missed the apology for a track and my local guide wanted us to go back and look for it. I did not fancy any more ascents, and our bivouac fires down in the ravine at least gave us the line, which I followed as best I could by throwing my handkerchief in front of me, and —if I could still see it—dropping down after it. If it fell out of sight we made a slight detour. Sometimes I only thought I saw it, but on reaching the bed of the ravine had suffered nothing worse than a few contusions, though these were enough for my immediate needs. Next morning I scaled those heights again, but this time in more genteel fashion with two guns and a captain from the 6th Mountain Battery—along a real path, at least we started out on a sort of path. After some lively scrambling we reached a small lofty plateau overlooking the Kotaibi capital. The village of Dthi-Hagerah stood on a small knoll on the left edge of the wadi bed which is here some 60 yards wide. The stronghold of the Kotaibi chief was on the opposite bank a little lower down. I pointed out the mosque (which we did not want to damage) on a spur of the knoll, TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 99 and the gunner took a few careful ranges. All was still and peaceful until the head of the column hove in sight round a bend of the wadi and was at once fired upon.. Then the fun began in earnest. I only saw my little corner of the show, but I know those guns did good work. Every sungar that opened on our side of the valley was promptly presented with shrapnel beautifully timed, and the gunner —leaving the mosque untouched—pounded that village until some of the buildings still standing, showed each story like a doll’s-house. We left the stronghold (which was unoccupied) for demolition, and the defenders of the village who had cleared out to the ridges and sungars higher up at the first projectile from the guns, were driven back from one position to another, until they scattered for high ground. On the following day we blew up the main stronghold and another fighting tower, and on the 11 th retired early in a thick mist, with neatness and leisurely precision. I returned with the gunner-captain to our previous position, but there was no shooting. The Kotaibi had had enough. We joined the rear-guard—a detachment of the Hamp- shires—down by a burning village where a lot of vultures were sitting about, and halting that afternoon in the shade of a timber-belt along wadi Bujer, marched next day up across the Suman plateau and down again into Kariati camp. 1 1 It was not possible to remain more than one day at Dthi-Hagerah, partly on account of the difficulty of supplying the troops, and partly because the Boundary Commission was feeling the want of support. To those who have had experience of expeditions against hill tribes it will be interesting to know that not a shot was fired, nor even an enemy’s scout visible on the hill tops during the retirement through the difficult Bujer valley. Arab hillmen follow up a retiring force in exactly the same way as Pathans, and the Kotaibi were well armed. But they 100 THE LAND OF UZ Here the expedition was dispersed, the troops returning to Dthala and Aden, and all active operations were over for the year. Early in 1904 I accompanied the Subaihi (supporting) column as * political, 5 to see that those truculent tribesmen behaved themselves, and did not interfere with the Boundary Commission which was entering their borders from the N.E. along the Anglo-Turkish line (the Yaman frontier). Everyone anticipated trouble—I did myself for the Subaihi have a shocking bad character and are a strong tribe. A half-hearted attack was made on the Commission escort as it moved through the hills to the north of us whence we could just hear their guns at work. It was severely nipped in the bud, the Commissioner sending word in to us that no assistance was required. As for the chiefs within striking distance of our column (and it had a longish reach), they raced each other in to tender their submission and respects. 1 On June 6th of that year there was a scare up at Dthala, of another Kotaibi rising, backed by Yafa, in which the Dthanbari were to join. I asked leave to meet the Dthan- bari chiefs at Lahej on the 8 th and passed a mobile column which had been launched from Aden on the same day (to be speedily recalled). I met Salim Husein of Nakhlein—the paramount chief _and the seven sub-chiefs of the Dthanbari in an impromptu durbar, and asked them point-blank if they meant fighting. They palavered for a bit among them- had not only been thoroughly beaten, their crops and towers entirely destroyed, but driven completely out of their country. P. J. M. 1 The effect of the punishment inflicted on the Kotaibi a few months before. TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 ioi selves, and then said “No”! emphatically, and old Salim,—having ascertained that I was Abdullah Mansur, —asked if I had ridden a white pony at Nakhlein fight the year before. On hearing that this was the case, he remarked reflectively: “I emptied half a bandoleer at you on that pony—I can’t think how I missed you both.” “Because,” I replied, “although you hillsmen have excellent eyesight and good rifles you will not take the pains to study wind-allowance, the pace of a moving object, or the actual range. You can’t pick up these things by saying ‘ Bism Illah ’ and trusting to your luck, they can only be acquired by constant thought and hard practical work. ‘ Expert knowledge governs all.’ ” 1 Hillsmen’s indecisive guerilla tactics and difficult terrain tend to minimise the fruits of victory and the penalties of defeat; thus they resort to arms for the most trivial reasons, and regard our serious view of armed aggression as indicating a deficent sense of humour. This attitude is typical of the hillsman generally. He has little to lose, all his permanent settlements, such as they are, being tucked away beyond the reach of ordinary artillery in some of the less accessible hill-fastnesses. He can only be brought to book by the guns of a mountain battery and the transport accompanying such a unit requires more water than the district can usually afford. Without guns, capable of rendering the strongest hill- fort untenable, serious trouble awaits any column operating among these ranges. Even so equipped, any tactical error, more especially while retiring after chastising the district, will be promptly turned to advantage, for the rear¬ guard is followed up closely, however complete the ascend- 1 Arab proverb. 102 THE LAND OF UZ ancy previously gained, and any hitch or mishap is at once spotted by hawk-eyed observers secure on the almost precipitous heights over-hanging the route, and communi¬ cated to the striking force below. It is almost impossible to convey an adequate impression of the arrogance and insolent swagger which mark the hillsman’s demeanour in a lowland town even when con¬ fronted by authority and rank. The rifle slung over his left shoulder is his badge of authority, its decrees ready at hand in his bandoleer at the beck of his trigger-finger, and as for rank, has he not the blood of Hamyar in his veins? Though obsessed by an ultra-Semitic greed it is the power—and not the luxuries of wealth that appeal to him. The hardships of his life amid rigorous surroundings, have accentuated the frugality that marks the Arab character, and taught him to despise the soft-living townsfolk who fight their battles by proxy, nor does architectural splendour or artistic beauty impress kim, except to earn a bitter curse, and the sneering comment ‘Kufr’ (idolatry), accompanied by symbolic expectoration. He is the lowest type of the South Arabian tribesman, indigent, churlish, treacherous and grasping—a pariah— preying on the weak and filching from the strong, secure in his lairs amid the debatable lands which separate the dawn of modern civilization from the relics of ancient culture. Still, with all his faults he can die like a lone wolf when his time comes. His gamut of emotion is a simple octave, religion at one end and avarice at the other, the latter an absorbing passion which influences most of his deliberate acts and thoughts, predominating even his speech to such an extent, that temporal gain may be safely conjectured as forming the topic of any animated conversation sustained by him. TRIBAL RISINGS IN 1903 103 A bigoted fanatic in the letter and narrow dogma of his creed, yet complacently ignorant of its fundamental truths and spiritual teaching, he divides mankind into Believers (Mussulmin) viz., himself and co-religionists of his own way of thinking, and Infidels, relegating to the latter class—regardless of the plain written injunction of the Koran—all Christians of any sect, whatever their merit. He claims as his right throughout eternity, a paradise of crude sensuality based on the allegorical description of the Koran, but more grossly material. Yet this thieving, wily rascal will face death with equanimity and bear agonizing pain without a murmur, but—appear¬ ing to lack any spiritual side to his nature—behaves as if devoid of any guiding principles or ideals above the moral plane of the anthropoid apes. Still there is good stuff in him beneath this sordid husk and individuals have occasionally shown themselves capable of self-sacrifice and devotion. His character has no chance to expand and he needs an occasional licking to teach him humility and sympathy. PART II BEING AN ACCOUNT OF CERTAIN DISTRICTS BEYOND THE LIMITS OF THE ADEN PRO¬ TECTORATE, WHICH HAVE NOT HITHERTO BEEN VISITED BY OTHER EUROPEANS These Chapters are the outcome of some Seven Years’ Travel, in the guise of a Down-Country Chief ARABESQUE O those tilted breezy uplands in the dawn With the black-cap in the tamarisk by the way The acrid fusillade of a well-placed ambuscade, And the swinging march of camels day by day. The stirring rat-a-plan of ponies’ feet A-drumming on the arid ringing earth, The cries of pomp and barter in the street, From palace windows—revelry and mirth. That Desert hush beneath the silent stars, The palmed oasis mirage in the sun, The deep-toned chorus of Allah akbars, That stirs the city ere the night is done. A lonely land of mystery and space, A land of steadfast faith and black deceit : Held are its secrets by a guarded race Amid embattled hills and realms of heat. CHAPTER I DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS OF PEACE AND WAR SOME PERSONAL SILHOUETTES Dathinah is a somewhat vague title given to a towering ridge (a semi-detached southern off-shoot of the main Kaur) and a plain at its southern base, girt by isolated massifs and kopjes. It is watered by three main wadis— Rakab, Maran and Wagr—from which it gets its name— Amudieh (the place of wadis). The two last-named wadis flow south from the tall northern heights—rising in hills of similar designation— Maran being the name given to the main scarp, and Wagr the title of a salient peak furthest east, amid a jostle of lesser heights. Dathinah is the centre- and nucleus of the Oleh confederate tribes which are simply scattered all over the place. As they are largely nomadic it is not worth while to mention their borders and relative positions unless these are actually referred to. Suffice it to say that they are all over the southern slopes and crests of Maran and Wagr, they skirt the eastern fringe of the great Saidi plain and reaching southwards to the limits of the Markashi (Fadli’s main tribe), that sultanate claims suzerainty over them. Oleh does not share this view, and considering that when io8 THE LAND OF UZ my survey party was attacked in 1904, out on the Saidi plain, the Fadli repudiated all responsibility for anything that happened beyond the foot-hills N.E. of Mishal, I am inclined to think that Oleh is right. At all events, any attempt to assert this suzerainty in Dathinah by force of arms would command my sympathy. It is a ghastly road up from the coast, as I have reason to know. The track strikes northwards from Shukra across the littoral plain, up through a grim concourse of gaunt, black peaks gathered like mutes about the path. All you want to complete the picture is a corpse with your cortege , which may be got when least required, as the Markashi— on your right among the ravines of Mount Ares—are generally out of hand, and there are always a few small bands of masterless men about, on the look out for stray merchants, for this is the main artery of traffic from the north. It is a desolate region. Even the baboons avoid it, as a rule, and all you hear—at your one-night bivouac en route —is the plaintive husky cry of the hill-fox, who, poor wretch, has to catch rock-lizards for a living. There is not a drop of water, unless you come across a rainpool in the rocks, until you get near the edge of the inland plateau, where the road forks, the left-hand branch passing bir en-Nahain and the right, bir Lamas. Both wells are thronged from morn to night with flocks and herds, and are guaranteed to induce severe enteric symptoms for forty-eight hours. I decline to guide the traveller’s choice between them. If he tastes Nahain he’ll wish he’d sampled Lamas, if he drinks of Lamas he may not be able to sample Nahain water, which looks, smells and tastes beastly; while the water in Lamas well is usually clear but requires considerable resolution to use To face page 109 DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES 109 even for ablution and can slay a European. It laid me up for two days on the first (and last) occasion that I was rash enough to drink of it, and I am more or less hardened in this respect. The local shepherds are much annoyed if you suggest that Lamas is a death-trap, and lay great stress on the clarity of the water, and its medicinal properties! The Dathinah road, which from bir Lamas crosses the plain of en-Nahain past Mishal through low hill-ranges out on to the Saidi plain, skirts the foot-hills of the Ahl Hanash or ‘ people of the Snake 5 —a somewhat truculent sub-tribe of Oleh. Away on the left—right along the plain’s north-western margin, the ground rises slightly to¬ wards the wall-like Kaur—the home of the Audhillah, a tribe of predatory habits and abrupt manners who were wont to give their puppet-Sultan a lively time on their periodic visits to his capital, Loder (an abbreviation of al Ghadr = treachery)—a white wall-less town on the plain at the foot of the Kaur. An important general market is held at Loder every Wednesday, and is attended by tribesmen from all the outlying districts under a mutual under¬ standing of neutrality whatever their feuds may be. The Audhillah and Oleh have always been at logger-heads, and at a market held many years ago with both tribes strongly represented they could not restrain their mutual antipathy. Both sides came to blows, reinforcements hastened in from the surrounding country, and there was some desperate street-fighting—all the Loder asakir on police-duty seeking early cover. The town was eventually left in the hands of the Oleh who cut off the ears of every Audhillah they could find dead or alive the only authentic instance of mutilation that has come to my notice in an AiJd engagement, and due perhaps to no THE LAND OF UZ irritation at the breach of neutrality, for the Oleh were first attacked, and suffered heavily in the early stages of the fight. The Dathinah men and their friends then started a general riot and finally left the town in triumph. Arabs have long memories and to this day a common exclamation among the Oleh is “Aom arabooa ala adhan abook 55 —‘ ‘ Wednesday! On your father’s ears,”—or simply, tC Yom arabooa,” i.e. c ‘ the fourth day.” You should, however avoid this expression in the Kaur villages or you may get yourself disliked. But to return to the Dathinah road along which we seem to be travelling with more than Oriental leisure. Shortly after leaving those foot-hills the track passes a very striking land-mark as it skirts the Hanashi hills. Immediately to the left of the path stands a tall isolated red kopje of feldspar and quartz which rises like a sugar- loaf some 200 feet sheer above the plain and can be ‘ picked up’ as far as you can see, making a useful triangu¬ lation point. It is just as well to ‘ turn’ this kopje before your convoy reaches it, as the Saidi—who are rather a bad lot—occasionally lie up along its base to harry passers- by. Wayfarers have a nickname for the short defile between the kopje and the hills which may be rendered ‘ the now-or-never neck.’ There is no other cover for an ambuscade along that edge of the plain, and if you get the worst of it, the Saidi have got you up against those impracticable foot-hills along the Hanashi border, but if your party win, the aggressors must either retire across miles of open plain or be caught on the kopje, as you are between them and the fringe of hills. Of course if the ‘ People of the Snake ’ choose to be snakish they can make it very awkward for even a formidable force en route to Dathinah, as it would hardly be feasible to crown those DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES hi heights the whole way along, and the road would be practically closed against all ordinary convoys. This however is not a popular pastime—the last time they indulged in it, they brought half Oleh down on them to ask what they meant by obstructing traffic. There is an alternative route through Hanashi territory but wayfarers do not like it as it implies grave risk or a heavy and expensive siyarah (local escort). About five miles on, past Karn Mershid is the hamlet of el Ain (the spring). If you pass this, there is no more water till you reach the Dathinah village of 1 ed-Dakhlah. There is, however, a well, away out on the plain to the left near the hamlet of al Gauf which lies north of an isolated ridge 2 and about five miles off the road. I halted here (January 8th, 1904) en route to cross the Kaur with a large native survey party under a Eurasian officer of standing and experience in the Indian Survey Department. We were escorted by a subaltern and a detachment of the 102nd B.N.I. ; with a dozen sabres from Aden Troop as a personal body-guard. There was also a picked force of irregulars—my particular brand, ‘ raised 5 in previous years among the tribes north-east of Aden—and a scion of the Fadli ruling house accompanied us with some asakir from Shukra. Messengers had of course been despatched ahead of us to the Sultan of the Kaur (at Loder) and the sheikh of al Gauf—a hospitable old fellow without an ounce of vice in him. The runners bore letters stating our peaceful purport and inviting the recipients to assist the representative of the Illustrious Government. Similar 1 The definite article is locally corrupted into ‘ urn,’ but this is not reproduced in educated correspondence or literature. 2 Heyd Mahrab. 112 THE LAND OF UZ precautions should never be neglected if the traveller wishes to avoid unnecessary friction, and observe the elementary principles of Arab etiquette. Our camp at al Gauf faced north with the main tower of the village immediately in rear—held by the Fadli con¬ tingent. The position was tactically sound except for a few straggling crops of millet to our right front, which were not ready to cut. Luckily the usual ‘ bunds 5 faced from us and obviously indicated a suitable advanced post for the tribal detachment. The strategical outlook, how¬ ever, was ominous,—for, to our front were two small unattached tribes, the Ahl Diyan and Ahl Saidi—turbulent and irresponsible as such units usually are, while five miles from our right were the Hanashi hills, and on our left rose the Kaur’s ill-famed scarp. These considerations alone suggested a night-attack, and justified the entrenching of an inner position whither all combatants and the leading members of the survey were to rally smartly at the command Stand to. 5 ’ The rank and file of the survey-party and all Government animals with the subaltern’s charger and my pony were quartered in the village. On the following morning a travelling ‘ seyid, 5 who was known to me as being an attendant at an up-country shrine, called to pay his respects and—incidentally—for oblations, as he carried the crimson banner of his tutelary saint, furled over his shoulder. He got a liberal present and gave me the news, for these men have generally accurate and early tidings of current feeling and events. He reported all quiet, but on leaving, he cut a strip from his banner and handed it to me. “ BSr&k&h lak—a mascot for you.” Now this was a most unusual act for he knew that I was of alien race and creed as I was not in native dress. Such a gift is supposed to carry with it immunity from shot and steel and as the DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES 113 Seyid had passed through the Saidi borders the incident invited reflection. At noon, our tribal scouts, posted among the millet, reported that a deputation of the Ahl Diyan some fifty strong were approaching at the double, screened from our camp by the crops and level nature of the ground. They were singing: “ Hail to thee—Son of Shafei ” (i.e. the Fadli) “ Don’t bring us misfortune, but if you do, we—the pick of the district—are the men to deal with it.” I could not help smiling at the possible consequences if the fiery Saidi overheard this bit of arrogance for they are twice Diyani’s fighting weight. The chant however implied insolence and was somewhat truculent too, so ordering the levies to their posts I strolled out with the Fadli and a small retinue to meet our visitors, and after taking the paramount chief to task for calling in force on an armed camp without previous notice, allowed him and a few sub-chiefs to come in—the remainder halting at a respectful distance fronting the outer line of levies. Harmony was restored over a cup of coffee in my tent. The Diyani became quite friendly on learning my identity, and he promised to answer for his own tribe, but remarked —on leaving—that the Saidi chief was endeavouring to stir up that tribe against us. It was nearly 3 o’clock when the Diyani left our camp. At 5 p.m. we heard a tribal chant approaching from the north. It was still a long way off but it seemed to have a most unpacific lilt to it, so the levies were pushed forward to the outer edge of the crops with orders to stand the party off with the exception of their principal chiefs. The subaltern came up to await instructions as I stood II4 THE LAND OF UZ at the tent-flap listening intently for the first hint of developments, as we could see nothing. Suddenly the faint opening notes of a tribal yell came drifting down the wind. “ Stand to, please.” “ Stand to,” shouted the subaltern as he made a rush for his carbine. There was a storm of hurrying feet, the clatter and snick of bayonet-catches as our little redoubt of hay-bales, grain-sacks, boxes, etc., girded itself with steel whilst the Saidi. preliminary compliments hummed through the camp like vengeful bees and swelled into the rattle of a general fusillade. A few threads of canvas flicked erect here and there along the outer fly of my tent as the Head Surveyor came hurrying along, handling a sporting Lee-Metford. “Smartly, please Mr.-,” I indicated a vacant spot in the trench and snuggled down beside him, keeping a watchful eye on the muzzle of that rifle. The incident was over as quickly as it began. The sepoys, who naturally expected to see a tribal rush come surging through the crops, held their fire with steady discipline until they could see something to fire at. They thus avoided the infliction of casualties among my pet irregulars, who knew that if they fell back on us before the Saidi onslaught they did so at their own risk, for we should have fired on both, indiscriminately. A flank withdrawal had been pointed out to them in case of necessity but as it happened—they held their own, for the Saidi, finding that there was no chance of rushing an open camp full of startled civilians, did not press the matter and in less than five minutes were scurrying back across the plain with the tribal contingent hanging tenaciously on their rear, while the Fadli distributed parting favours from the tower until checked in the interests of our skirmishers. As I was admonishing the Fadli asakir it was reported that a sub- DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES US surveyor had been hit. I hurried towards his tent on our left—and least exposed—flank, where he lay across the entrance with one Punjaubi slipper on and the other still at the threshold. A dropping shot—evidently from long- range—had taken him in the back of the head, as he stood at the door of his tent, shuffling on his slippers after the ‘ alarm 5 had gone. He gazed mutely up at me as I handled his poor battered head, and died without speaking. It was hard luck. We had one or two slighter casualties, among them a ‘ khalassi 5 or Survey-follower, who had been hit in the palm by a Le Gras picket-bullet which lay imbedded between the metacarpal bones at the back of the hand. It was very painful, as such wounds usually are, and he was not an ideal patient, so, in the absence of any anaesthetic, my limited surgical knowledge was not equal to an operation. He was greatly cheered to hear that he was going down to Aden under escort as soon as possible, meanwhile he was bedded down in the most comfortable quarters the village could afford after a strong dose of opium and brandy—a weird mixture which, however, his case appeared to indicate. Combatants only held the redoubt that night, which was uneventful. We buried the sub-surveyor next day with the usual Islamic rites in the village cemetery. The subaltern and myself followed as chief mourners in accordance with established custom, while picquets were thrown out, wide, in all directions, to prevent another surprise-party looking us up while we were otherwise engaged. The victim was an able surveyor; his ‘ bhai-bund, 5 the other sub-surveyor, appeared to be prostrated with grief and horror, and the head-surveyor told me plainly that he could not possibly carry on, under the circumstances, as the victim had been his right-hand man. n6 THE LAND OF UZ Since the Sultan of Loder was, as anticipated, a broken reed in the face of tribal opposition, I intended dropping a line to an old friend of mine, the paramount chief of the Dahr plateau just across the Kaur ridge, to come down with a heavy local escort and join us. With his influence, our combined parties might force the passage of the Kaur, while another more formal letter to the Sultan of Upper Aulaki would at least bring up to meet us on Dahr his young cousin (a very sporting youth) with a formidable tail of hardy mountaineers from the Khaura valley who would see us through to Nisab. It was not as if one were travelling as a private individual in a chronic state of impecuniosity, compelled to fight where one could not buy the right of way and unable to attract an adequate tribal force to one’s service. Also, all the paramount chiefs who knew me were aware that no insidious designs were entertained, apart from the absurdity of any such purpose with so small a force to back it. This was pointed out to the surveyor, together with the fact that yesterday’s unpleasant incident was due entirely to the irresponsible action of a petty tribe in a weakly-governed district and but for the regrettable death of the sub-surveyor would have been hardly worth considering. He asked if there was any likelihood of further fight¬ ing, remarking that his khalassis were demoralized by the incident of yesterday and out of hand, while he himself was far from well. I expressed my regrets and offered to take control, at his written request. I admitted that some slight bickering might occur while crossing the Kaur—at least it would be the first time I’d ever scaled that ridge without something happening of that nature, and added for his information that as we seemed rather in the air at al-Gauf we were going to fall back, off the plain, where the DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES ii 7 camp could be sniped from any direction, and take up a strongly sungared position covering the water-supply, on the left bank of wadi en-Nahain. There was adequate cover for all non-combatants, whose one wish was re¬ ported to be ‘ a speedy return from this grim country. 5 I touched on the futility of any such attempt un¬ supported by authority and trusted that his decision would be reconsidered in leisure and security at en- Nahain, as its re-presentation would have to be official. Camp was struck during the funeral and we moved off soon after for wadi en-Nahain. Even this peaceful spot did not soothe the nerves of the harassed khalassis. That night Mishal beat off one of Yafa’s periodic small raids, and made so much noise about it that we ‘ stood to. 5 This clinched matters, and an ‘ official 5 was fired into me, requesting the return of the survey party to Aden at once if not sooner, as no reliable work could be expected from its subordinates. As there was no hope of getting these men to advance into a really ticklish country except by force which would probably lead to a stampede or at least isolated desertions and subsequent murder, I decided to take the party down, and the sooner the better. We broke camp at io o’clock that same morning. Just before starting I had news of a Ba-Kazim raiding party which had struck across Markashi borders at the Shukra road, on the southern slope of the maritime range, and was lying up for traffic. This news lit a flickering star of hope for the combatant 1 details. 5 We halted for the night on the northern side of the crest and moving on at dawn through the narrow rocky cutting of Rahwat al Makanah, descended through those grisly hills with proper military precaution, and reached Shukra at noon without further incident. Here the 118 THE LAND OF UZ camelmen struck for the third time on this short expedition. They had given constant trouble, and several confidential reports reached me from independent sources that there was some collusion between them and the Saidi, with a view to rushing the Government treasure-chest in the confusion of the attack. That chance was not forth¬ coming, thanks to the steadiness of the escort, but although unofficial reports should be accepted with caution and never acted upon directly, this one had some basis, for the Aden contractor had chosen a large proportion of his camelmen from those districts, and the makaddams or overseers were unreliable and lacked control over their respective units. We found the contractor’s agent at Shukra, who reported on the following morning that thirty of his camels were missing, their owners having absconded with their animals during the night after he had collected them to take the survey-party on. I had already despatched the head surveyor and half his party to Aden by dhow, and as the agent failed to replace the missing camels by sunset, I informed him that his breach of contract would be reported, and packing the rest of the non-combatants off with all their baggage in another dhow, marched for Aden the following morning. The neighbouring clans of Oleh vented their displeasure on the Saidi in a very practical manner for molesting a friend of theirs. On the whole that pugnacious tribelet did not score. After passing the village of ed-Dakhlah the road threads a defile between two kopjes and skirts the southerly spurs of Khomah, an isolated ‘ massif 5 rising some 2000 feet sheer above the plain and big enough to afford a home for ibex. Rounding Khomah’s eastern spur the track emerges on to the plain of Amudieh on which my Dathinah DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES 119 headquarters were situated, at the Faragi village of al Giblah. Let us climb to the top of one of its towers at sunrise and have a look round, before it gets too hot for comfortable observation. All round us lies the arable land of the Meiseri section to which the Faragi clan belongs. The sleepy millet crops are still heavy with dew, and stand drooping listlessly, hung with diamond pendants in the early light. Among them a skirmishing line of dignified storks are moving slowly on the look out for a stray frog tempted forth by the night dew, or an early jerboa. The birds look leg-weary and travel-worn, as they probably are, for they soared down over the Maran ridge at sunset yesterday and settled to sleep where they stood. Some were too jaded to evade the stealthy approach of youthful Nimrods who seized two by their stilted legs and improvising reins from strips of a superannuated turban, drove the disgusted birds with shrieks of laughter—tandem-wise—to the village. There, senior authority speedily released them, for the big white stork is as much a general favourite here as elsewhere, especially in an agricultural district which he clears of all kinds of agrarian pests. From the foothills, backing the main line of crops to the west of the village, comes the tentative coughing bark of a dog-faced baboon which is asking an acquaintance higher up the hill if there is any safe opportunity for an unmolested raid on the ripening grain. The outlook is evidently not encouraging, for soon the whole troop file off over the ridge to a valley out of sight from the village, in the hopes that the lad who tends those crops (from a reed platform built on four forked poles) sleeps on duty. South of west, towers Khomah, a patriarchal giant of the 120 THE LAND OF UZ plain, uplifting a hoary head of grey granite sparsely tufted with straggling bush. Further round towards the south, al Hamrah’s triple peaks of naked feldspar blush to the coming day. Southwards the plain is studded by receding kopjes merging in the hills of the Hanashi border while east of south are strewn the foothills of the Gadineh, an unsociable section of Oleh whom no one loves, for they raid indiscriminately and in an underhand fly-by-night method. Their habits became such a nuisance to local herdsmen that Oleh declined to take their part when, having raided once too often across the borders of their formidable neighbours the Ba-Kazim (over whose hills the sun is just rising), that grim tribe gave the matter their particular attention, with the result that Gadineh has been driven oft the plain up into their hills and kept there ever since. No caudal appendage should be mentioned in their presence unless you are supported by your friends, for shepherd-lads of Oleh aver that the Gadineh have herded so long with baboons that they have acquired their talk, forgetting Arabic and the elementary manners they once possessed, while their tails are beginning to sprout; wherefore they shun respectable human beings to avoid ribald comment on these eerie excrescences. Close at hand in the eye of the sun stands the guard-tower of al Kafl, four-square of solid masonry with heavy stones piled loosely round its base to thwart the tribal sapper. Planted defiantly in the open it keeps watch and ward towards the Hasani border—the guardian of the village, and a tower of refuge in stress of war. A dark-turbaned head is just visible above the far parapet—one of the standing guard is taking the usual morning reconnaissance, for the Hasani are not to be trusted since years ago 1 a Faragi wife absconded with a 1 In 5 96. DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES 121 young chief of the Hasani. Scandalized Farag, their tender honour all a’smart, began a desultory but bitter feud, which still holds so far as I know. Their ire was not directed against the woman. Farag’s chief assured me that if she would, even now, come back and have her throat cut quietly for the honour of the clan, all would be forgiven as far as she was concerned ; but he hoped that while a Faragi male survived, there would always be a trigger-finger to twitch for a Hasani. The sentry still gazes shading his eyes against the climbing sun—eastwards across the plain, towards the home of his inveterate foe—Giblat al Waznah—the main Hasani township, engirdled by fighting towers—all swimming in a golden haze. This is no idle feud, for to ‘ lift 5 a married woman with or without her consent casts a slur on her whole clan as being beneath the notice of a strong tribal section like the Hasani. If the Hasani had swept down in force after a formal challenge and snatched away the woman ‘ vi et armis,’ there would have been an invigorating episode which both sides could look back to, with mutual respect; but she crept out to her paramour by night among the crops, and they stole away across the Hasani border. The full facts of the case were impressed on Farag in derisive verse when attending the usual weekly market at the Hasani town. There was some shooting, and the handful of Faragis withdrew across their border with rage in their hearts and two casualties slung between them, hotly pursued by the ireful town folk. From that day the clansmen held aloof from market even when offered an armistice for that purpose at the instance of the Hasani merchants who missed their trade; but slew on sight 122 THE LAND OF UZ wherever they found a combatant of that hated stock. The merchant community at al Waznah, finding matters more lively than profitable, approached the Fadli Sultan in the usual ‘Oriental 5 way, and induced him to send up an old nine-pounder cannon and a few spherical shot to reduce the Faragi. No power available could get the gun on its block-carriage and stumpy wheels up Arkub pass and through the narrow cutting of Rahwat-al-Makanah, so the fearsome weapon came into action against Farag, lashed to a roughly constructed sledge. The Hasani had to provide their own powder and the woeful depletion of their reserve supply drew bitter comments from the match¬ lock men anent the appetite of the clumsy beast. She distinguished herself by turning back-somersaults after every shot, but managed to knock corners off the advanced fighting stronghold at al Karn 1 that commands the Hasani border from a little knoll, and plumped a few round shot into the mud-composite walls of G'lblat-ahl-Farag. The holes, from which they were carefully extracted, were left unfilled to keep the feud awake, and diminutive naked sportsmen snatch a fearful joy in rolling the heavy spheres about the neatly-plastered floor at the risk of pinched fingers and a smacking. The sentry on al Kafl turns and wishes us the top of the morning. “Khabr al-leil—What of the night ? 55 “Khabr kheir—All’s well , 55 he reports, then points with a careless sweep of his arm due east to the narrow strip of bush and timber along the banks of wadi Maran at the foot of the Gumr ridge on which stands a ruined village of ancient Hamyar. i Al Karn = the ‘horn,’ i.e. a salient kopje (and also the fortress thereon). DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES 123 “We’ve had no regular set-to since we ousted them from yonder—the day they killed young Haitham and Salim, and clipped your scalp for you.” The incident recurs. A Hasani force had crept up through that loose jungle to hunt for blood, as the Faragi were four lives ahead. They had potted a poor lad who was bird-scaring on his lofty platform—an easy sitting shot, and rather a shabby trick, for he had no weapon with him but his sling and of course the invariable ‘gimbeah’ or dagger which marks the combatant. This incident drew Farag like a wasp’s nest and even I cut in with my standing tribal escort, although averse to interfering in feuds connected with delicate family matters. We evicted the Hasani snipers from their lodgment and chased them back across the plain inflicting a few casualties. Our martial ardour brought us a little too close to the fighting towers of al Waznah whence two of our people were shot down and my hair was parted by a bullet. Following up the track of the wadi northwards to its emergence from Maran ravine the eye takes in a semi-circular sweep of foothills forming a horse-shoe, with the settlements of al Giblah and al Karn lying along the tread, and at the point of the toe the dark forbidding jaws of the gorge, veiled in shadow. The tall red granite column of Luboib, erect as a gatepost, at the threshold, suggests in conjunction with Maran’s sinister reputation 1 the mouth of Acheron. It was in this gorge that the Hatimi attacked my little party in March, 1903. I was travelling unofficially (in connection with certain matters pertaining to Intelligence) attended by an Arab orderly of the Meyasir and five of that tribe as local escort. This included two Faragis of influence who knew the Hatimi chief. We all carried carbines. I could not 1 The Maran gorge has been the scene of several strenuous fights. 124 THE LAND OF UZ afford a larger escort, nor was it advisable, as the Hatimi and Meyasir were at logger-heads to a certain extent and diplomacy was preferable to force in such an impregnable terrain. I was riding ‘ the Missis 5 (already introduced in Part I) followed by the orderly on my trotting-camel with what little kit we required in the saddle-bags, for we were flying light. The local escort went afoot, as they were only taking us up to the Fathani border on the crest of the Maran ridge. As we approached the mouth of the gorge a few dropping shots were fired from its sides, while along the precipitous slopes further up on either hand rolled the pealing echoes of the ‘sherkha’ or tribal rallying cry. This was most annoying, but there was no other route open to us on that occasion as the passage of the Kaur could only be attempted with a tribal escort too heavy for my resources. The Tulh pass, over Wagr, was closed by the action of the Hasani, so we pushed on as unconcernedly as possible, hoping to get the ear of the Hatimi chief before matters reached a climax. As we entered the ravine, the Hatimi fire from the heights freshened, but of course we did not reply. The first inkling we had of real trouble occurred when a lad ran out from the bushes on our right with a small match¬ lock, and took a deliberate ‘ pot 5 at me as I rode past him some ten paces off. Luckily for me, the weapon ‘hung fire 5 badly as they often do, and spurring forward as the priming flashed, his bullet passed behind me just over the mare’s crupper, grazing the high cantle of the Arab saddle. These single-handed journeys beyond the limits of the Aden Protectorate necessitated native dress, which had to be adopted consistently or not at all, so all accoutre¬ ments and saddlery had to correspond, greatly to the mare’s disgust. The boy was rescued with some difficulty from the 125 DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES enraged escort, and on proceeding, I decided to dismount, as unlooked for episodes of this nature are best encountered on foot. To give the mare a chance of escape if matters developed adversely, and to prevent her bridle bringing her down if she wanted to leave in a hurry, I unbuckled the single snaffle-rein, and rolling up the off-side, tied the other to a mimosa spray. The orderly secured his mount in similar fashion, and we proceeded. There was no further firing, and the yells quieted down. A bend in the ravine brought us in sight of a large mixed party armed with spears or match-locks. I noted with satisfaction that there were very few rifles among them. We halted facing each other some sixty yards apart and a venerable old chief (the Hatimi) approached us. I drew him aside, and explained in confidential tones that I was a ‘ son of the road 5 (legitimate traveller), and wanting to get through, over the Maran ridge, without unseemly friction, was prepared to pay for the privilege. He said that this could no doubt be managed, adding that he remembered me well enough as having stayed among them a year or two ago to shoot ibex and try for a hill-panther. He regretted the truculence of his people, which was due to recent friction between some of them and the Meyasir. He was going into financial details with me, when there was a surging rush of spearmen at my escort, who, drawing into a ring—back to back—used knife and carbine-butt freely. Just for the moment I thought that matters had not got past the bickering stage when one may intervene with comparative safety if careful not to hold a weapon ready, and a few stern remonstrances will usually nip the nettle in the bud ; but even as I slung my carbine the maddening scarlet flare of fresh blood sprang out among those fierce faces and straining shoulders. “Withdraw your men, 55 I 126 THE LAND OF UZ ordered, slipping my carbine back to hand, “or I’ll fire.” The old man made a gesture of impotent despair as a carbine barked in the thick of the fray and a Hatimi stumbled clear of the press and sank to the ground. The fat was in the fire, and as I jerked down the lever of my Martini-Metford, the chief fled back towards his main party who were blowing on their matches. He should really have been shot down according to strict Arab etiquette—as the most distinguished foeman available, but I was never pedantic, and soon required that cartridge elsewhere, for the Hatimi are stricter on these points, and four spearmen broke away from the fringe of the ‘ scrum 5 and dashed at me. Their rush was strung out a bit and a snap-shot at the tuft of hair on the leader’s bare chest sent the second man reeling. There was a momentary pang of mortification at the apparently bungling shot as I came down to ‘ Guard Two,’ and the first spearman, charging home unflinchingly, delivered his thrust, the spear slither¬ ing viciously down the carbine-stock and laying open the back of my trigger-hand to the wrist. He lurched heavily against me, and sank to his knees. Staggering clear, I caught a glimpse of a crimson blotch in the centre of his chest. The solid .303 bullet had pierced his heart and smashed the second man’s shoulder. The remaining two were on to me before I could reload. One laid himself open to a nasty dig on the point of the jaw from the carbine-butt, and, stepping in to follow up the advantage, I lost sight of the other spearman until reminded of his presence by a sharp burning sting in the right hip and a heavy shock from head to heel. I collapsed like a ham-strung pony, dragged down by the haft of a five-foot stabbing spear, which I lost no time in snatching forth. It was of no further use as a weapon, for 12 / DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES the point had curled up against the pelvic-girdle. As I fumbled another ‘ round 5 from my bandoleer, my orderly danced past with a spear snatched from a stricken foe, and took my opponent in the throat before rejoining the loose scrimmage which surged round us. Events now moved with the flicker of a kinematograph. As I closed my carbine-breech and rolled on to the sound flank, a lad from the Meiseri escort, with just a moment to spare for my affairs, dashed at the luckless spearman who was staggering to and fro in front of me with one hand to his neck and the other plucking at his dagger-hilt, and fired into him at such close quarters that I saw the shawl round his waist smouldering as he dropped. Another Hatimi spearman went for the boy as he fumbled frantically with the breech- bolt of his ‘ Le Gras 5 and a lucky though inaccurate shot from the ground, hit the man’s upraised elbow or there¬ abouts, for he dropped his spear and darted into the surrounding bush holding his right forearm. Mean¬ while, the escort’s stubborn resistance had somewhat mauled the hostile spearmen, who fell away precipitately. Perhaps they had lost their heads a little, for though some dived for the bush, others fell back across the glade on to their main body, sustaining further reprisals from our fire with their own clustered tribesmen to act as ‘ long- stops ’ for any bullets which might not find their first objective. Amid yells from the match-lock men ‘‘ Gerroo! Gerroo! Aside! ! ” my orderly and the escorting chief sprang towards me, and grabbing each an arm dragged me hastily into the bush, flinging themselves down on either side, as the Hatimi fire opened with a reverberating clatter, knocking twigs, leaves and dust from the sun-parched bush overhead. Our return-fire cleared the glade, and we fell back before they could get home at our flanks through the 128 THE LAND OF UZ bush. My orderly wanted to carry me on his back, but although the limb was still numbed and irresponsible I could shuffle along fairly quickly with the aid of his shoulder, and the wound, which was quite painless at the time, did not interfere with my shooting much. I cannot refrain at this juncture from expressing appreciation of the escort’s soldierly qualities. They never attempted to ‘bunch 5 round me, but preserved a widely-extended formation across the gorge—a bit irregular, I admit, but so was the ground. They had— it is true—effective breech-loading rifles (Le Gras’s, which beat my higher-velocity small-bore at this game, for when they hit a man he promptly collapsed), but they were beset by nearly twenty times their number of hillsmen. Half of these had firearms though chiefly match-locks, yet after I was down the escort had fought on resolutely against a foe flushed by initial success and on his own ground. Though they would have easily extricated themselves at an early stage in the proceedings, by taking to their heels down the gorge and leaving me, they yet preferred a more leisurely withdrawal. The only remark made, indicative of hurry, was when I loitered unduly to get a shot at an over-zealous skirmisher and the escorting chief shouted above the infernal din, “ A 1 maut kafana—Death is behind us.” The Hatimi, who may have presumed that my disablement took three men from our slender firing-line, pressed on at first with cheerful yells and got rather a severe check. Thereupon many of their matchlock-men took to the sides of the ravine—a grave error—for all they could have seen from that height were the green flat tops of the mimosae veiled in a thin blue powder-haze ; and the continuous rattle of our joint fire below was no indication of our exact position. DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES 129 However, they expended enough ammunition from those heights to celebrate a wedding festival. Any subsequent prospector up that ravine should accept traces of lead with caution, and not presume the occurrence of this mineral in bulk, without collateral geological evidence. The wadi-bed was liberally besprinkled with lead from above, and some of their casualties were probably due to their own fire. We stole away beneath this hideous racket through the scanty bush to the mouth of the gorge. Here we lined the left bank of the Maran, which trended sharply to our right, on to the open plain. There were foothills to our right front—too low to command our position— and on our left was the inaccessible flank of Luboib. Steadying down a bit we opened fire as opportunities occurred, when from our rear came dropping shots and an invigorating series of yells. The Meyasir were advancing in force to our support ! It seems that ‘ the Missis, 5 appalled at our vulgar noisy brawl, had decided that Maran was no place for a lady, and a few minutes later she nearly galloped over a party of girls who were gleaning white millet in a field half-way to al- Giblah. Finding herself once more in respectable society the mare pulled up and allowed herself to be caught. Her startled aspect, coupled with the clamorous echoes from the jaws of Maran, indicated trouble in connection with our party, and the ‘ sherkha, 5 trilled in treble unison, set the alarm-signal popping from tower to tower back to the settlement. There match-lock and powder-horn, rifle and bandoleer, hang ready in every house against the stern cry ‘ Astalabu—Arm! 5 The fore-front of the Meiseri embattled line stormed through our intervals—a hail of pattering feet cut by ear- splitting yelps. These knit into a continuous shriek as THE LAND OF UZ 130 the main attack extended across our front and raced up the gorge, while the right essayed the foot-hills. Two or three women—carrying water-skins and reserve ammunition—were * up 5 with the advance until it hurled forward at the gorge. At their heels trotted two small boys, one with powder-horn and bullet-pouch slung on his back and the bigger of the two holding a two-yard match¬ lock across both shoulders. They were dusky puce with their exertions and desperately ‘ pumped, 5 but squealed the ‘ sherkha 5 whenever they could muster breath for it, with all the assurance of effective units. An older lad ran up, towing the startled mare in his wake at a reluctant shamble. I mounted with some little assistance. The saddle-camel, with the usual muddle- headed perversity of his race, had trotted unnoticed, during the close fighting, up a branch nullah. He was by now probably in the hands of the Hatimi, with all my kit, cash and surgical case ; but four of their cow-camels, grazing in the gorge, had stampeded before our retiring line, so we at least held the wherewithal to make terms of restitution. The hillsmen had fled precipitately up the gorge before the Meiseri onslaught, which did not push them too far, for fear of their neighbours the Arwali and Fathani. The hillsmen jealously guard the freedom of Maran, and while permitting reasonable reprisals on a fellow-section, are down on trespass. As, in guerilla warfare, you must either advance or retire, the plainsmen fell back, firing, as the Hatimi (who had been cleared from the right bank of the ravine by transverse fire from the right attack) crowned the heights on the left edge of the gorge, screened from the Meiseri right by an intervening ridge and a deep tributary ravine. DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES 131 The re-awakening din drew me to our left at a canter, to ‘ open 5 the left slopes of the gorge, along which the glasses from my saddle revealed on the left lip of the ‘ khud,’ high above the wadi—a few straggling clusters of strenuous pigmies, along whose front a film of smoke drifted as I watched. Rhythmic counting to the roll of the report, gave the range between five and six hundred yards, and a sharp tribal ‘ yap 5 brought the escort up at the double. Jets of smoke up-leaping amid the mimosa- trunks in the gorge, established the identity of the party on the heights. The orderly at my stirrup gazed up inquiringly. “ 500 yards—Tangents up, and bars down, right down. I can’t dismount; see to it, 55 I nodded towards the escort, who sank down in a sitting posture with legs crossed and knees up (tribesmen don’t use the prone position, owing to the cumbersome dagger-sheath worn in front). “ Full sight, and remember that our people are among those trees beneath—Wait for the word, I’ll give you time to get ‘ on.’ At the foe on the heights. All together— Present! Fire!” A ragged volley spluttered forth, which sent ‘ the Missis ’ dancing all over the place, preventing any observation by glass, but some slight confusion on the heights proclaimed the volley more or less well directed. We put in a few more until the Meiseri main attack had cleared the gorge, when we cleared for home. Orderly and escort were cut and gashed by knife and spear but very cheerful and full of pluck. They insisted on lining up behind me with a few envious and admiring youths from the village, to march back chanting their defiant exultation. The mare, maddened by the firing and the smell of blood—for her off-flank was splashed 132 THE LAND OF UZ with dusky crimson to the hock—appeared to be using her hind-legs only, for progression ; while behind us came the roaring triumph-song of the returning reinforcements. It was an exhilarating pageant, but the proceedings were marred by my abrupt collapse from the saddle. A voice cut through the twilight of an intermediate world, “Our friend is dead—Vengeance! 55 I blinked up in the eye of the merciless sun at my orderly’s anxious face, down which the tears were cutting channels through the dust and grime. “ Cheer up, it’s all right,” I said, and added to the escorting chief, ‘ ‘ Call your people off,” for the main Meiseri contingent had faced about and were moving forward again. There would have been red trouble if they had re-entered those hills with a guest’s blood to avenge, but a reassuring yell brought the line once more to heel. I made an ignominious entry back to al-Giblah, on a charpoy. An attempt was made to exchange those four cow-camels for my kit as I rather wanted my tobacco and hookah, and antiseptic dressings; but the Hatimi feared a trap. A month or two later all articles were restored that were of no particular use to them, including the saddle- camel, which had contracted chronic rheumatism and was never again fit for fast work. He had lived on what he could pick up along those arduous slopes and, if a camel ever thinks, those keen frosty nights spent in the open, with not even a blanket over his shrunken hump, must have caused him to regret his momentary folly. That spear-blade split my sciatic nerve and gave me food for reflection for some years, after prolonged exertion or at a change in the weather ; but my only lasting grudge is that they opened my camera to see what was inside, and spoiled all my Dathinah views. DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES 133 Had I been travelling on my own private affairs, we would have retired when the Hatimi first showed signs of temper, and sat down at al-Giblah until pourparlers were concluded and ceremonial calls interchanged. This would have taken weeks and I could not spare the time ; so, relying on previous acquaintance, I precipitated matters, with the above result. The incident merely shows that in South Arabia one should take nothing for granted if risk is to be avoided. There is no doubt that the Hatimi akil and the older men were against anything but a mere demonstration, but their hands were forced by the younger and irresponsible element, a contingency which should never be neglected in more important dealings with these people. The Hatimi must have got out of bed on the wrong side that morning to let a mere tribal feud commit them to an unprovoked attack on a small party travelling with peace¬ ful intent. They are not really a cantankerous lot—in fact all the Maran sections of Oleh are rather decent, but impulsive. The Fathani on the top of the ridge are characters. The first time I visited them they fired heavily from the crest on our party toiling up the mighty breast of Um-al- Hamd (the Mother of Praise), in the heat of an August afternoon. We extended and replied. Eventually a turban was upraised on a match-lock as a sign that they wanted to parley. We repeated the signal and with the chief of the local escort and two Arabs from my permanent body-guard, I met their akil and his suite between the opposing lines. “ Who and whence are you, people ?” he said. I mildly pointed out that I was from the Mansuri clan of the Abdali, travelling with a few friends from Amudieh to see 134 THE LAND OF UZ Maran and call on his honoured self, as already intimated in a letter which he had answered favourably. “Saheeh—to be sure,” he admitted, “but we’re a bit nervous just now as our neighbours the Hatimi have a small feud against us about some goats, and seeing you approaching we took no chances. We’ve no one hurt, have you? No! Then come on up, and have some supper.” On the crest he waved a proprietary arm towards the tremendous ravines of Hagnun and Shuahat dropping steeply down to the main gorge, and Amudieh’s fields and villages beyond—spread out like a chess-board. “ Sheikh Abdullah—how’s Maran ?” “ It s all right" I replied with enthusiasm, adding as the sunset breeze across the ridge struck chill through my light, lowland attire, ‘ but the air up here lacks the warmth of your hospitality.” The ‘ akil ’ beamed his approval of this somewhat ambiguous compliment, and led the way over the ridge into a dell where a few black tents formed the headquarters of his clan. Our party went into bivouac beneath the elbow of a small col on the other side of the dell, and collected fire¬ wood for the night. After a heavy supper, washed down with goat’s milk, I set picquets and turned in by the fire. I awoke just before dawn ; the fire was burning low and the air struck keen. Outside the bivouac the grass gleamed white with hoar-frost, and the bushes beyond wore diadems and drooping pendants of scintillating gems, in the cold clear light of the moon. Suddenly I missed something—there were no picquets out! As I stirred, an utter stranger rose to his feet on the other side of the fire. ‘We’ve been wiped out, and I’m the sole survivor ’ was my first absurd thought as my hand DATHINAH AND ITS SUB-TRIBES 135 came in contact with the butt of the automatic pistol beneath my blanket. May your morning be blessed,” remarked the inter¬ loper. ‘ ‘ And your day be prosperous,” I countered politely, ‘ ‘ Where are all my people ? ” ‘ ‘ Oh, they’re in yonder,” pointing to the tents, ‘ ‘ and are being entertained. The akil said that we were to keep watch out here as you were asleep, and make up your fire through the night. Will you have coffee ? ” Another man strolled up with a match-lock over his shoulder, the barrel thinly coated with ice, and reporting all well, squatted by the fire and threw on a fresh log. Over our steaming cups the situation was explained. The Fathani had a bizarre custom—a staple jest to the whole country¬ side under the title of ‘ al fahil ta’alak ’ (Orientalists can translate). Owing to decimation by small-pox they had suspended the marriage laws in favour of all guests of fighting stock and also among their own community. I had heard some rumour of this down below on Amudieh, but in view of the usual austere morality among these Arabs, looked on the whole yarn as ben trovato. How my permanent escort, men of rigid Sunni principles, could possibly— Well! well! as they observed that morning when I chaffed them on the subject, “in the hills, hill- customs,” which may be rendered, ‘ In Rome do as Rome does,’ though the translation is as free as their interpreta¬ tion. North-west of the Fathani across the Upper Aulaki border, among a vassal-tribe of that Sultanate—known as the Rabiz—the hostess, or (under the Islamic code) hostesses, in order to make the guest feel at home, go to lengths that civilized convention would consider unneces¬ sary. I have no very definite evidence, as we marched THE LAND OF UZ 136 through their territory without halting at any village or encampment on the only occasions that I passed that way, but this collateral case confirms both. They are mentioned as the only tribal lapses from European standards of morality that I have heard of in South Arabia, unless we include the conviviality of Lower Aulaki. They are regarded with horrified amusement by scandalized neigh¬ bouring tribes. CHAPTER II THE GREAT KAUR, THE BACKBONE OF SOUTH ARABIA This chapter aims at imparting some geographical infor¬ mation. Let us first return to ed-Dakhlah, the village through which we came up to Amudieh and Maran. From here the road to the Kaur runs N.W. between the two monolithic peaks of Kalah 1 and Zirb, which were probably both strong permanent positions under the Hamyarite sway. Kalah, as its name implies, is still crowned with the ruins of a pre-Islamic fort, which a spiral path approaches from the base, for the hill rises tall and sheer like a pillar. Zirb, too, has a naturally strong look about it, and is a larger hill, adjoining the outlying ridges of the Maran block. At its foot is the small settlement of Hafa and two shrines, one dedicated to a female saint,— such are of rare occurrence (I refer, of course, to shrines). Zirb is the term still applied to the thorn and briars that are set along the coping of a defensible parapet (hence ‘zareba’). Local tradition is unanimous in assigning to these obelisk-kopjes the ward of the ancient road. The first halt is at al-Migdah, a large village on the S.W. spur of the great massif culminating in the Maran ridge. 1 Kalah = a fort. THE LAND OF UZ 138 Here is the shrine of Sidi Amr bin Said, a centre of attraction for pilgrims from all parts and a prominent land¬ mark. An out-crop spring of good clear water bubbles forth near the shrine and runs through an artificially covered channel past the village, which draws its principal supply from this source. The inhabitants are mainly non- combatant. At this point, if not previously, application must be made to the akil or paramount chief of the Kaur, for a strong Audhillah escort to keep off their brother tribesmen during the passage. This is essential, but though it should pre¬ vent any attack in force, it may not be relied upon to overawe detached bands, who always 4 try it on 5 when they see an opening at the head of the caravan or amongst its straggling tail. While you are about it, you may as well ask the Kaur head akil to send donkeys with the escort, and discharge your down-country camels, for the going is bad in parts and worse in others. For the benefit of the intrepid traveller the following table of loads is appended, which I believe to be accurate: 4 donkeys are the equivalent of 1 hill-camel (hired). 2 hill-camels (hired) are the equivalent of 1 hill-camel (privately employed). 2 hill-camels (in private employ) are the equivalent of I lowland camel (on the plains). I lowland camel (on the Kaur) is the equivalent of *—an unknown quantity (he may get through with men enough to push him along). 4 lowland camels (on the Kaur) are the equivalent of a certain smash ! The first time I crossed the Kaur was in January, 1899, during Ramadthan, when neither food nor water may cross THE GREAT KAUR l 39 your lips between the first glimmer of dawn, and sunset ; nor may you even smoke. Of course the Koran particularly exempts ahl es-sabil,’ people of the road (travellers) ; equally, of course, the hardy tribal fanatic will not take advantage of this exemption. With their example before me I was ashamed to do so either, and moreover you cannot give an order with a clear conscience to a thirsty man half- dazed for want of food, when you yourself are not in a similar predicament. We felt the heat intensely up the lower slopes, and many a longing glance was cast towards the two leading donkeys which carried the water-skins, for we had only sighted Ramadthan’s sickle-moon as she set the evening before, and hadn’t become used to the Fast yet. In spite of a fairly strong escort, we had the usual brush with skirmish¬ ing hillsmen about a thousand feet up. It was bloodless, as such affairs usually are when the escort is strong enough to hold these bandits at arm’s length from the convoy, but strenuous scrambling up a boulder-strewn terrain in the fiery noon just about finished us combatants. Even the austere and wiry old chief in charge of the local escort— under my steady fire of Koranic precedents—at length admitted that refreshments were indicated if we were going to stand off another attack. In five minutes we had formed a bivouac among some boulders by the side of the moun¬ tain-path, and fires were crackling under half a dozen coffee-pots, while we drank sparingly of the musky water from the skins. A few merchants, from villages on the Saidi plain, had tacked on to the tail of our convoy to share the advantages of escort without the expense. This is always permitted. A string of nautch-girls attached them¬ selves to our party crossing the Kaur on our return journey, travelling from their homes in Dahr to the coast. I had THE LAND OF UZ 140 to tell three of them ‘off 5 for insubordination in bivouac. Their male relatives (who accompanied them as musicians) had no control, and the girls were all over the place, entirely devoid of respect. It was most embarrassing ; but to return to our mer¬ chants. Their leader, a man of wealth and position down below, was scolding his servants with all the petulance of a pampered man as they fumbled with the packs which contained his sumptuous provisions. They were speedily set out before him, and it was a spread. He had honey which must have come all the way from the Yeshbum valley by the look of the gourd that held it, and real bajri scones instead of our scanty ration of coarse unleavened bread, while to crown the feast were two cold fowls with trim¬ mings, likewise hard-boiled eggs. I glanced at the escorting chief as we sat beneath a boulder sharing a thick, clammy, cold chupatty (flat cake) of red millet—for there was no time for cooking, as we wanted to cross the crest before dark. That sybaritic cold collation caught his eye. The fleeting ghost of a smile flickered across his rugged, weather-beaten old face. “ Merchant,” he remarked with asperity, “ we are covered by the exemption of the Prophet of God (on whom be peace), but you who have sat on your donkey most of the way hitherto, can hardly claim the same privilege. I have lessened your sin”—and looking the abashed merchant severely in the eye, he ‘ lifted 5 a fowl, two eggs and a handful of scones, with which he returned to the boulder amid quavering protestations and entreaties to help himself more amply. As we pulled that fowl asunder between our right hands, I suggested that it was rather hard on the merchant, who had presumably not carried more provender than he really required for the journey. “Not at all,” growled the chief, TOLD OFF! To face page 140, THE GREAT KAUR 141 as he worried at a drum-stick, “ you don’t know these low¬ land merchants. I’ve escorted—how many hundreds of them—over the Kaur, travelling to Reyda and Nisab from below, and back again. Allahicnows what profit they make at each end of their journey which they undertake with provisions enough to feed a fakhidah (tribal section). Yet they seldom offer hospitality to the escort that takes them through, until compelled.” I murmured pensively to the landscape that perhaps this compulsion explained their attitude. “ Don’t you believe it,” interpolated the old man hotly, his temper somewhat ruffled by the rigours of the day. “We know their breed —possessed of wealth yet tailing on to any armed party going their way, unless beaten off with a stick. That man (he used the Arabic equivalent of ‘ homo ’) could probably afford an escort better than you can (your askaris say you’ve little besides your weapons). Why, they load their women with trinkets—would that they accompanied their lords.” “Tut, tut, chief,” I interposed. u With their ornaments,” resumed the old reprobate ; “ you don’t suppose that a ‘ Kabili ’ would look at a woman of non-combatant class. By the way, I suppose you’ve left your women-folk at home.” “ I haven’t a wife,” I admitted. “Kaifff!—What! ” gasped the veteran. “A bachelor and with a beard ! What can your people have been think¬ ing of ? ” “ Pm seldom at home,” was my abashed excuse. “Well, I suppose old Mansur knows his own business, but if you were one of my lads— What brings you up here ? ” “ The freedom of the hills,” I replied. “ The coast-land villages are too civilized for me. Down there the nights 142 THE LAND OF UZ are hot and the people cold. For me, mountain air and mountain folk.” Haiyah!! ! ” yelped the delighted chief, and a short tribal yell was tossed from group to group across the bivouac. The akil rose to his feet and spotted a Kauri tribesman smoking! Approaching the culprit, he quoted the old jingle, “ La tashrab el-tambak ragulan geyid 1 Ma tenfah hal al-hamk w’al-hataifi.” The unabashed delinquent promptly gave him the tag, “ Nehna n’shrab el-tambak w’ehna hasdudna, Wa n’taan al-khasm b’il-harab al-chtaifi.” “Perhaps,” admitted his chief, “ but that doesn’t excuse smoking on the very first day of the Fast.” “That’s when I miss it most,” replied the Kabili, “and having taken food and drink, why not tobacco ? All three are gifts of Allah.” “Load up! ” shouted the defeated old fanatic. “ Hurry up, you merchants, there’s no halting-place this side of the summit.” Our tedious line resumed its ascent which became more arduous as the afternoon wore on. At some points the donkeys had to be lifted bodily, loads and all, over boulders —this is where such transport has the pull over camels, when a camel is down, he is down, and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men won’t get him on his feet again till 1 “ Don’t smoke tobacco, gallant man, For peace and war proclaim its ban.” “ We’ll smoke tobacco when we can, Yet guard our borders to a man ; You’ve always found us in the van, Charging amain while others ran.” (Free translation .) THE GREAT KAUR 143 he wants to. No, not even a lighted newspaper under him —a drastic treatment I once saw applied in a moment of grave emergency. The beast seemed to like its cheerful glow. Sunset came, and we were still a thousand feet below the crest, every ridge we scaled introducing another beyond. Wind-clouds were banking heavily in the west, and the lurid sun sank amid smoke and fire. There was an ominous hush over the mountain-face. A few hill-crows uttering anxious squawks came soaring down from the heights above us to the sheltering ravines below, and a solicitous cock-chikore stood forth on a tilted boulder and called incessantly for his mate. The old chief looked about him uneasily. “We shan’t do it,” he muttered ; then addressing me with a grim chuckle, “You like hill-air, don’t you? Well, you’ll get all you want to-night. Look! ” I turned and saw that all the panorama of hill and plain and mountain-chains, backed by the far faint glimmer of the Gulf of Aden, had been veiled by a vast grey pall, and up the slope behind us came hurrying billows of cloud, twisting into weird contortions as they drove before the wind. Up from a deep chasm on our immediate right the mist came curling in snake-like wisps across our path. The chief pointed ahead towards a huge overhanging rock a little way back from the edge of the khud , half shrouded in the grey clammy folds of the eddying mist. “Make for Hagar-es-Sadien ,” 1 he shouted. “On! in Allah’s name, or we’ll be down the ravine! ” A chastened donkey brayed through the gathering gloom, with the startling effect of an explosion in that eerie silence. Then we closed 1 The Stone of the two Seyids. 144 THE LAND OF UZ in, and to a running accompaniment of sharp, panting cries and the thudding of sticks and spear-shafts on reluctant hides, rushed the convoy stumbling up the slope, until the sheltering rock loomed above our heads. Loads were hurriedly unlashed and placed in a pile, and the restless donkeys were tethered in sheltered spots among the out¬ lying boulders. We collected wood by touch, and started a fire in a slight recess formed by the overhanging rock. As soon as the orderly had unstrapped my sleeping-mat and blanket and spread them near the fire, I lay down, tired and cold, to wait till the coffee boiled. It never did, and Pm glad it didn’t. With a plaintive wail like an Eolian harp, swelling to a droning roar, the gale was upon us! I saw in listless abstraction all the lesser embers of the fire go streaming past like ‘ golden rain , 5 followed by the fat- bellied coffee-pot turning undignified somersaults across my legs. I sat up hastily, and then with a deafening scream the storm arose in its might ;—amid faint, half-drowned shouts of warning, the main logs of the fire stood up for a fifth of a second, while a stray shawl or two soared uncoil¬ ing past, like prehistoric dragons. The next instant those glowing logs were wallowing on my bedding, at which I made one comprehensive clutch, rising to my feet to drop again quickly on all fours to prevent myself and my smouldering blanket from being swept outside the sphere of practical politics. Meanwhile the logs had trundled clear, and after a few ungainly leaps, hurtled off, like half- charred squibs, into the Ewigkeit. It was an appalling night. It was almost impossible to hear oneself shout through the Stygian tumultuous smother. There was no rain—only wind—but it came like a wall. Instinctively we all huddled together as close up to the rock as we could get. There was no ‘ lee 5 —the gale seemed to THE GREAT KAUR 145 sweep down from every direction in truly cyclonic style. Shortly after midnight it began to drop, and we could hear each other speak. A hasty intricate roll-call assured us that no one was missing. Presently a faint voice remarked, Pm going to die . 55 We snuggled up round the speaker, and my hands groping in the dark to discover his identity, felt a soft portly presence with no dagger at its waist. It was our sybaritic friend, the merchant! I really thought he would die, for he’d no discernible pulse, and only the faintest flutter of a heart-beat. It was still impossible to make a fire in order to boil him a cup of coffee, and I 5 d no alcohol with me, and if I had he probably would not have taken it, at least no tribesman would—even in extremis . I hate to lose a man unnecessarily—even a hanger-on. Having nothing at all resembling a stimulant except chlorodyne (which I dared not give him—suspecting a weak heart), I rummaged about among the loads, assisted by someone who was presumably my. orderly, until we found (by taste and smell) a small bag of ground ginger, which is invariably carried on trek in South Arabia as an inseparable adjunct of coffee. We made a hasty infusion with cold water, and administered a dose to the patient. I nearly gave it to the wrong man, by the way. I am glad I did not, for I think it was the escorting chief! We heard a gasp, and a voice from among the surrounding figures murmured piously, ‘ ‘ Allah, have mercy on him , 55 the usual formula when a soul is passing, but luckily this was not the case. On the contrary, the invalid sat up and ‘ took notice 5 to an extent that greatly enhanced my reputation in those parts as a physician. He calmed down at last, so did the gale, at three o’clock or thereabouts. We got a fire lit, made coffee in a pot placed at our disposal by the merchants—and all was well. While the coffee was brewing, I went round K I4 6 the land of uz with two of my asakir to inspect the donkeys. They had stood it all right, but their ears had a dejected droop against the darkling sky, and no wonder, for they had had nothing to eat since the day before, and would not have until we crossed the ridge. There is no grazing on this slope of the Kaur, and of course we had no fodder for them, as we had not anticipated a bivouac that night on the mountain-side. I set a minimum thermometer in situ , and was sur¬ prised to note on examining it at dawn that it had not fallen below 33° Fahr. I can truthfully say that I have never felt the cold in South Arabia more, although on a few occasions at high altitudes we have awakened with hair and beard powdered with hoar-frost. The grey fog-curtains parted at the overture to the rising sun, on a scene from fairy land. At first the world beneath us was completely hidden from view by a dead-white seeth¬ ing turmoil of cloud, which broke in misty spray along the slope at our feet. This vapour line receded rapidly down the Kaur until the whole of the upper scarp was clear and beneath it lay a turbulent sea of sharply-defined cumulus, as white and coherent in outline as masses of cotton wool. The white changed to pearl—the pearl to opal, and then in a flash the salient crests of these mountains of cloud were roseate, flushed with gold, leaving the colder tints amid the valleys shading back to sombre grey in the caves and ravines of cloud-land. Then, thrusting up from below, appeared the terrestrial van-guard—giant Khomah and Hamrah’s javelin-head, while far away to the south-west the serrated ridge of the Markashi range heaved up a dorsal fin. I gazed in that direction for a minute or so in the hopes of picking up the summit of Mount Ares to use as a triangulation point. When I glanced again to the middle-distance all that huge cloud-scape had disappeared. THE GREAT KAUR 147 Those fairy battlements of ruddy gold, the haunted hollows of ghostly grey, peak and pinnacle, hill and dale—all had vanished like breath from a polished blade. The kopjes of the plain stood forth at the head of a serried host of distant hills, in rigid obeisance to stately Khomah, their suzerain-lord. Only a few trailing wisps of vapour at their feet marked the celestial rout. The slap of a carbine-sling cut short my wool-gathering, as the orderly saluted in old-fashioned style—wished me the top of the morning, and asked if I would partake of coffee before the cups were packed, as the convoy was about to move off. Would I not! We travelled very slowly at first, for beast and man were alike stiff with cold. The going now became really strenuous, for we struck one of the ancient stone stair¬ ways which the Hamyarites made, centuries before the birth of Islam, at various points near the summit of this main scarp, to facilitate camel traffic. It was probably a con¬ venience in those days, but the Arabs have no Local Board, and the huge oblong blocks of stone which once formed orderly gradation were now lying—all ends up—in broken fragments. Our march degenerated into an obstacle-race for donkeys and a toilsome strain on the men. By the time we had surmounted this steep ascent, we were warm enough. Tall aromatic shrubs now fringed the track, bearing labiate floriation not unlike that of the nettle in general outline, but sapphire blue. Among them the bees were busy, for the sun was waxing hot, and here and there fluttered a few vermilion-tipped white butterflies and the hardy ‘lesser tortoiseshell. 5 Frailer types were either still sheltering in nooks and crannies of the rocks or had become casualties. We topped the crest late in the fore¬ noon, well ahead of the convoy, for I wished to take a round 148 THE LAND OF UZ of angles from the summit. As this chapter has not hitherto turned out so' geographical as I intended, the reader had better accompany our party. Commencing due south of our observation point, that red sugar-loaf across the Saidi plain almost merging into its tawny background is Karn Mershid, backed by the low sinister foothills of Ahl Hanash. Just to the right of it, through that dark streak of green which denotes the tim¬ bered banks of a water-course, runs the path from Mishal. No, you cannot see Mishal—it’s too close up to the far side of those foot-hills, but there’s the plain of en-Nahain beyond, and you will perhaps notice a few towers and hamlets sparsely dotted about. I cannot tell you which is which, from here, there is too much heat-haze about. We ought to have been up here as soon as the fog lifted. Your eyes will serve you better—unassisted by a glass unless of very low magnifying power. The higher the magnifica¬ tion, the hazier will the extreme distance appear. Now look closer in. That’s Loder—in line with Karn Mershid —that stippling of spectral white, looking like a doll’s cemetery. The low triple-peaked ridge 1 beyond overlooks al Gauf, beneath which the survey-escort repelled the Saidi attack in January, 1904. Straight over the back of the ridge, up against the background of Hanashi hills, are a few drab towers which, judging by the dark patches denot¬ ing crops, must be the village of al-Ain. Swinging east of south—I will not inflict upon you the names of all those isolated kopjes up in the far corner of the Saidi plain, but you see al Migdah straight below us on the end of the spur running down from the main massif that culminates in Maran ? That thing like a white marble is the shrine of Sidi Amr bin Said. Look just to the right of it and throw 1 Heyd Mahrab. THE GREAT KAUR 149 your glance far afield. That little pyramid with the black match-head stuck on the top of it, just under the shadow of the main Dathinah block, is Tenuwakh kopje. On its summit is Husn Tenuwakh, the castle of the Saidi chief— and their main stronghold. Situated as it is—commanding the main caravan-route to the trading villages of Amudieh plain and over Tulh pass to the north—the fort is some¬ times a bugbear to peaceful merchants, and a few pills of percussion-shell might—on some marked symptom of un¬ rest—be administered with advantage. East of this bearing, rise the salient heights of the Dathinah system. All the wadis on this side of the main watershed drain towards the south-east. That magnificent valley below us to the left, sheltered between the lofty scarps of Maran and the Kaur, forms no exception to this general rule, though trending south-west. Its wadi (Rakab), along whose banks are many small hamlets and fighting-towers, swings sharply eastwards as soon as it clears Migdah ridge to join Wadi Melehah, which with Kabaran, Maran, and Wagr eventually unite in Wadi Ah war (called Haura on European maps). If we were up on the Maran ridge, the three tall fighting- towers of Deman would be plainly visible across the Rakab valley. This is the headquarters of the Ahl Deman (a section of the Audhillah) and one of the Kaur’s strongholds. It is within striking distance of the northern road over Tulh pass, and is notorious as a nest of freebooters. The triple fortress is in echelon, and would stand some hammer¬ ing—even from the guns of a Mountain Battery—being built of solid well-cemented masonry. I am speaking from field-glass observation at a respectful distance, having never visited there—the Demani do not encourage casual callers. Before we face north, just glance round on the opposite 1 5 o THE LAND OF UZ hand towards the west. That jumbled sea of mountain- peaks is Yafa, whose eastern border comes within striking distance of the villages on the plain of en-Nahain. Note that the Kaur dips, and loses its wall-like appearance as it approaches the Yafai border. It may hardly be said to end there, for an exactly similar scarp runs in the same general direction north of Kataba (in Turkish territory), and culmi¬ nating towards Ras-al-Od (the spear-head), merges in the Yaman highlands. Eastwards, it culminates in the tower¬ ing ridge of Kaur Edth, south of the Yeshbum valley, and this is the furthest point, in this direction, to which my continuous knowledge of it extends. I have gazed on an unbroken chain of like aspect (and lying east and west) from the battlements of Izzan (Azan), the walled inland capital of the Abd-ul-Wahid sultanate. Observation by telescope from Dthala and Izzan, revealed in each case the barren surface, level crest and regular stratification which in these regions indicate a lime-stone formation. The Kaur proper (Kaur al Audhillah) is entirely metamorphic. Look down at Hagar es-Sadien. From here it looks like a lump of anthracite in the strong light (many rocks weather black in this fierce sun and dry climate, even quartz), but if you chip off a splinter you will find it composed of por- phyritic granite. The rule is—the lower you go on either side of the Kaur, the drier and hotter the climate and the blacker the rock-surface, regardless of its geological character; but this will always be shown on a water-worn surface. A serrated ridge is always granite, a deeply in¬ dented one, throwing up salient peaks (like Hamrah) is usually feldspar mingled with varying quantities of quartz. The irregular decomposition of the feldspar apparently accounts for this formation. In South Arabia, when hunt¬ ing for water, do not select a flat-topped range unless you THE GREAT KAUR I5i have local information as to the existence of a permanent supply. Do not trust shepherds as guides after dusk among the hills. There the flocks are usually home at sunset, and the country looks quite different after dark. If you must do night-work choose a bad character for your guide, a confirmed freebooter for preference. He will not have the accurate local knowledge of the shepherd by day, but he will have twice his confidence after dark, and should know the country under that aspect. At least he will not break his neck, or yours. Remember, when searching for water in a ravine, that the most likely spot is at the foot of the first big drop, and if the drop is sheer and there are marks (always unmistakeable) of a waterfall there in wet weather, look below. Should that spot fail you, try on the lip of the khud and further up. If your search is fruitless, it is seldom worth while examining the lower reaches. Do not be deceived by a bone-dry surface—dig! There is no dryer climate anywhere, and the sun has great power. I’ve found moist ground a foot below arid sand. If you are digging in shingle and do not come across an imper¬ meable stratum two feet down, give it up and try some¬ where else. Look about you at the vegetation, if there is any. The false vine (selah) festooning trees along the banks of a wadi denotes subterranean water, but at an impracticable depth (beware, by the way, of its acrid ‘ grapes ’). Tamarisk timber is never found near water accessible to man (save by means of a deep well), but the brighter green tamarisk scrub only grows near surface water —usually running, and almost invariably brackish or im¬ pregnated with some salt or nitrate (often nitrate of soda), but seldom undrinkable. The small white oleander (it looks like an English osier in the distance) always grows by, and often in, running THE LAND OF UZ 152 water. All the wild ficus—you can tell them a long way off by their dark green masses of fresh foliage are never far from water, or where at least water flows at frequent intervals. Of course you would not look for water under the roots of a ficus half way up a hill-side. It will never be a big tree, and has probably been sown by some bird. Also, don’t waste your time near parasitic growth of this type. If in the desert, watch at sunrise whither the sand-grouse are flying, and later (after eight o’clock and before ten) whence they come. They water after sunrise for two hours, and then fly back to the open ; in some districts they also drink before sunset, but this habit is not general. The fox can do without water, so do not trust him ; nor the baboon, for though he may have a well-nigh inaccessible supply somewhere, he has probably fouled it so that it is unfit to drink, even if you find it. Doves must drink, little and often, but sometimes go a considerable distance from their supply. Still, a lot of these birds fluttering about from tree to tree indicate the vicinity of a well. Mistrust single birds or small parties, they are probably after spilled grain along a caravan route. They never roost far from water if they can help it. The green pigeon feeds so extensively on wild figs that he drinks at irregular intervals, and is not a good water-guide ; nor is the common rock-pigeon. Of course you would know enough to ‘ spot ’ wag-tails, three varieties of which visit Arabia, but they sometimes feed in open stubble some distance from water. Put them up, and they will fly back towards it. There are many other indications, some sufficiently obvious, such as the sentinel-pose of a solitary heron, the startled ‘ rise ’ of a duck, snipe or teal; and the swift hurtling passage of the smaller aquatic birds. If you THE GREAT KAUR 153 are hopelessly lost do not lose your head as well and wander aimlessly about, or think you are going to die at once. It takes much more to kill a healthy man than most people imagine, and even if you have got to see it through, the suffering is not half so bad if you can only keep a grip on yourself, and usually diminishes after the first twenty-four hours. Even if you have been overlooked and abandoned as a casualty, the tide of battle having set against your side, the case may not be as desperate as it seems. Drag yourself into any shade available, however slight, if you can. If their people are still hunting for their own casualties you had better lie low, they will be feeling annoyed. Remem¬ ber that if one of your side survives he will not rest till he has found you. If it is a long job do not let prowling beasts of prey by night get on your nerves, they have got to live if you do not, and will probably not touch your body until you have no further use for it. The Arabian striped hyaena is far more timid than his spotted cousin in Somaliland. If they get venturesome, prop yourself up in a sitting position and shoot the boldest (of course you will have a pistol on you). The vultures and lesser carrion birds by day will be of real service to indicate your position, but if a vulture begins to swoop too near, discourage him and guard your eyes! Even if your people have all been wiped out, someone may turn up at any time, and a decent Moslem does not slay a wounded man in cold blood, while Islam consigns to torment any ‘ believer, 5 however orthodox, who denies a cup of water to the blackest infidel. You might mention this. Sound travels for great distances in this clear air. Keep your ears open for shepherds 5 pipes and chant, and if you 154 THE LAND OF UZ hear them, fire a few quick shots. There will be an answering yell. Any object waved will catch that hawk¬ like gaze, and there you are! Meanwhile the convoy has topped the crest, and is clattering down the stony brow towards a squalid hamlet of the Gai-Melan section. Face about. All you can discern northwards is an apparently endless sea of hill-chains stretching away on either hand towards the horizon, but there are some broad plateaux in between them, and if you fix your eyes steadily along a northerly bearing, the tall towers of es-Soma will loom faintly into view amid the rolling hill-crests. On that side of the Kaur, all wadis drain northwards. There is my orderly haggling with a shepherd and feeling the back of a ring-straked goat. That is an indication’ of food. i i So long! Sorry you can’t stop for tiffin.” For abject poverty commend me to that Gai-Melan settlement. They had a few miserable crops of barley about a foot high, some goats, a cow or two, and a small stack of barley-straw for fodder. The people were very obliging, and eagerly exchanged milk for grain and flour. I do not think they were a fighting-clan, or if so—the stress and turmoil of the Kaur had not left a combatant kick in them. We entertained all who cared to come, and that —I think—was the entire population of the place—man, woman, and child. They all looked half-starved, especi¬ ally the children, who were, however, the most cheerful members of the community. They competed with enthusiasm in craftily-arranged handicaps for plain choco¬ late, an alien sweetmeat that attained considerable popu¬ larity, though at first investigated with caution. We got under weigh again in the early afternoon, and leaving our sheltered bivouac in the Tilhak (a small wadi HILL-GIRLS. To face page 155. THE GREAT KAUR 155 on which the settlement stood), dropped down the Dihaura gorge en route to es-Soma, the capital of Dahr plateau. Our path zig-zagged down by small terraced plots of barley, faced with stone to keep them from sliding down the ravine. At 5 p.m. we debouched on to the open plateau, and were met by a few cadets of the Abd-en-Nebi family, the ruling house of Dahr. They escorted us past the thriving town of es-Soma towards Dhimrah, Abd-en- Nebi 5 s imposing stronghold, which, with a few other out¬ lying towers, covered the merchant settlement from attack. Under the walls of the fortress a large and well-armed concourse was drawn up to meet us and fire the usual ‘ tashirah 5 (or salute). This, among fighting-tribes, is always followed by an impromptu musketry competition between the two parties, after which we were relieved of spears, swords and carbines, a wise precaution in a mixed tribal gathering. We were then ushered into our quarters in the fortress of Dhimrah, where we partook of coffee and dates after sunset, until the usual entertainment was prepared. Early next morning I was out on the top of the keep, identifying previous points of triangulation, and trying to keep warm, when the Audhillah akil was presented, to take his leave. ‘ ‘ Beyda is over yonder, 55 he replied to a question of mine concerning that Sultanate. “ Away beyond those hills, 55 pointing westwards. “ We ‘ dheab alKaur 5 (wolves of the Kaur,) propose to look it up, after the Fast; for their Sultan encourages Beydani merchants to evade our toll. We shall see. If you’d care to come, I’ll send word. 55 I thanked him. “ If you ever feel like marrying a hill-girl let me know, 55 was his parting remark as he hurried down the stairs to join his party returning to the Kaur. CHAPTER III LOWER AULAKI. THE BA-KAZIM. A RACE OF WINE- BIBBERS. DRUNK ON ESCORT DUTY. SOME RE¬ MARKS ON THE OBLIGATIONS OF CONVOY AND ESCORT. MUNKAA PLATEAU To consider the confederate tribes of Lower Aulaki in due order, we will retrace our steps to Shukra, and approach their borders along the coast. At sunrise, leaving our bivouac a few hundred yards inland of the palace (for the ruling house of Fadl does not accommodate guests on the premises), we strike coastwards on to the littoral route. The tall, severely plain facade of the palace—its battlements picked out in white—is within a hundred yards of the beach, fronting the still blue waters of the Aden Gulf, all gilded with the early rays of the sun, which strike off the glittering water on to our faces. It is mid-autumn, so we shall be spared the blinding sandstorms of the Monsoon which rages along this coast from June to September. The littoral route is most uninteresting. Running parallel with the coast, it crosses a series of small wadis presenting the same general characteristics. All have shallow, sandy beds as they approach the sea where a ‘ bar 5 or slight barrier of sand invariably occurs, on the near LOWER AULAKI 157 side of which is usually a ‘ heswat 5 or shallow water-hole containing drinkable but more or less brackish water. There is always shingle in their mid-reaches, which gets larger and coarser higher up, while towards their source in the southern slopes of the maritime range their course is much obstructed by boulders of metamorphic character. Their banks are low, and in some cases almost imperceptible at the point where the route crosses them but are sparsely timbered with small mimosae. The first point of any interest is Gimba’s cairn, some fifteen miles or so from Shukra. Gimba was a giant-king of this region, and a contemporary of Khalif Ali—the Sword of Islam—who carried that faith and weapon down this way on a proselytizing campaign—so the story goes. He overthrew Gimba’s host in battle. That monarch fled on horseback, pursued by the zealous emissary of the Prophet bent on making another convert. Little piles of stones mark the strenuous stride of the Khalif’s mount as he ranged up, to engage. They are about twenty yards apart, in lineal succession, and terminated by a gigantic cairn indicating that Ali’s arguments were conclusive. All orthodox Mussulmans throw a stone on to the cairn as they pass—I did too, for I felt sorry for Gimba. It is bad enough to be pestered by religious controversy at the close of a trying day, but to lose your life and your kingdom as well, is depressing. But let us push on into bivouac at the ‘ heswat 5 in wadi Gibah, which contains the least brackish water between here and Shukra—some twenty miles away. The next march is a little shorter—to Bir Meftah in a wadi of the same designation. This—as its prefix ‘ bir 5 implies—is a real stone-lined well, and no mere ‘ heswat. 5 It contains a plentiful supply of good water. THE LAND OF ITZ 158 About three miles east of Bir Meftah, where the route approaches close to the coast, is the frontier between the Fadli and Lower Aulaki. Here is Husn Lahokah, a border post that is so zealous and alert to prevent intertribal friction that it is hardly safe to pass it by night unless the guards are asleep ; and in the day-time they are in the habit of levying blackmail on caravans from both directions. This would be all very well if they had a slot in the side of the tower for contributions, communicating with an automatic register inside ; but unless a messenger is sent on ahead with power and unlimited time to treat for terms of neutrality, their unsophisticated habit seemed to be to fire on a caravan as soon as it hove in sight. They treated our convoy thus. At first I thought that an Aulaki raid, returning from an appointment in Fadli limits, had struck the head of our convoy, and not anticipating such an incident at this time of day any more than the escort, we were loafing along anyhow, in rear of the caravan. A sharp ‘ burst 5 over heavy sand in the eye of the morning sun did not improve our tempers, and the messenger of truce despatched from Lahokah post as soon as they descried the flash of spear and carbine-barrel among the dunes, was received with scant ceremony. Excuses were tendered, and accepted at considerably below their face value, whereupon we proceeded on our way, halting for the day at Bir Merwan—a short march, but the stages are very awkward along the littoral route. After Merwan there is no water fit to drink until you get to Bir Sunbahiah, so the best course is to make a short march to wadi Merwan, halting early and spending the rest of the day in grazing the camels. Then, laying in a good supply of water, push on early next morning and bivouac for the night wherever you find yourselves LOWER AULAKI 159 towards sunset. Remember to form your ‘mahatt’ some little distance from the road, for this hot littoral route is occasionally used for night traffic by long-distance caravans strong enough to beat off marauding bands, which as a rule let them severely alone ; but the contingency, remote as it is, makes such convoys very nervous, and apt to blaze into everything they see that looks like a hostile party ; so if you want a night’s rest for yourself and your people—keep well off the road. An early start should get you to Bir Sunbahiah before the real heat of the day, if you have stepped out fairly well on the previous march. Here you will find a shady belt of tall green mimosae; a good well, though the water tastes of earth, and any amount of doves, which will come in handy as a change from everlasting goat. Your men won’t eat them, not from any conscientious scruples, but because there is not enough on them! The castle of the Lower Aulaki Sultan is barely six miles east of Sunbahiah grove, so a noon-day siesta is possible, and the final stage may be accomplished in the cool of the day. A few words anent this Ahwar, or Haura, as Europeans call it. The whole stretch of wadi from the Sultan’s castle and adjoining township down to the coast five miles away is known as wadi Ahwar—Arabs never seem to use the name Haura which is marked on all maps I have seen, as a seaport. The settlement, at the mouth of wadi Ahwar, is known as Misani, and the identity of Ahwar seems, to me, to be vested in the upper settlement and seat of govern¬ ment. This suggestion is not inspired by mere pedantry, for both names are derived from the same Arabic root, but if you land on the coast with the idea of calling on the Sultan, you had better not start in your best kit, for you will have some heavy ‘ going ’ before you. ioo THE LAND OF UZ I shall never forget my last visit to Ahwar. All along the coast from Aden, were miles and miles of dead fish, representing every species that I had ever seen in tropical seas, and a good many that I had not. Huge pelagic types such as the giant bass, and every size and shape imaginable, down to the surface-feeding samoorah or sardine, (I doubt if this is the true sardine, by the way: it runs a trifle too large). Wherever I got a glimpse of the beach as the route trended seaward, one could have stepped from fish to fish along the shore, not that anyone would want to, for the smell was positively unique. In a wide and varied experience I have encountered nothing that came within miles of it, and we only did so under compulsion. During the sea-breeze, one noticed it some distance inland, and at night there was a faint phosphore¬ scent glow at intervals along the foreshore. Even one of the camels got out of sorts, and we had to reduce its load. The owner said that the beast was off its feed, but I have my own opinion of the case, and even if the man’s diagnosis was correct, what affected the animal’s appetite in the first instance ? No ordinary cause, you may be sure. At Shukra we had noticed shoals of samoorah splashing feebly on the surface, to be baled out by men, women and children for food, and further along the coast past the town, dogs and foxes snarled at each other across the garbage. Along the water-line flamingo stalked with mincing steps, on the look-out for small fry, and outside the breakers rode stately squadrons of pelican in similar commission. At Makatein, where, by the way, there was no settle¬ ment—only a saint’s tomb and some ruins—we left the coast, but the same state of affairs probably held good, or rather bad, further on ; and perhaps the fisher-folk below Misani did not always draw the line at dead fish, or LOWER ACJLAKI 161 enquire too closely into the circumstances and date of their demise. At all events, we found at Ahwar sporadic cholera, which was rapidly assuming the aspect of an epidemic. A member of the ruling house died that night, and his funeral next day was attended by a huge concourse, including many of my local escort. Then Azrael got busy, and I heard the women’s wailing cries from house to house all night, until I dropped asleep on the top of the tower where we were billeted. A pebble landed with a thud on the flat earthen roof, and, springing to the parapet, I looked cautiously over. What is it?” “The Sultan’s son,” panted an exhausted voice from below. “Cholera! Wake Sheikh Abdullah.” “I am he. I’m with you,” and snatching up my medicine-case, I ran downstairs, for apart from one’s obvious duty, the boy was rather a decent youth. An askari was at the door with a lantern—for the night was as dark as Erebus. I saw a light high up in one of the loopholes of the castle, and made for it at a rattling pace. Ahwar cemetery intervened, and I soon found myself in rather difficult country, but being barefooted and in tribal kit, managed to negotiate it fairly well, until, trying to take an unusually ambitious sepulchre in my stride, I hit the coping hard ‘ all round,’ and went sprawling; luckily retaining the ‘emergency-case’ intact. As I sprinted across the open for the castle, the askari shouted to proclaim my approach, and realizing that circumstances required no further announcement, I raced up the staircase—a door flew open on the first floor, and a woman clutched my wrist, and dragged me into the presence of the patient. He was suffering from nothing worse than stomach ache 162 THE LAND OF UZ —there was not the slightest symptom of cholera. I administered what was indicated, and said I would look in again after sun-up, then returned in more leisurely fashion, to try for some sleep before daylight, and was dozing just at dawn, when a shout from below brought me again to the parapet. “In Allah’s name, come! The boy really has cholera now.” “Tell his people (feminine) not to worry,” I replied with well-founded assurance. “ I’ll be there as soon as I’ve had some food. Tell one of my asakir to make some coffee.” The boy was all right by the time I got there, and that evening a slave brought two goats to our quarters with the Sultan’s compliments. Goat again!—he might have made it sheep—however, they came in useful for the escort. There was no comedy about the succeeding stages of this particular journey. We left Ahwar with a strong Lower Aulaki escort and a few non-combatant traders joined us to avail themselves of our protection through the turbulent limits of the Ba-Kazim. Cholera dogged our trail across the barren uplands of Gol al Hadad, over the Khalif pass and down into the strait, toilsome gorge of wadi Laikah. 1 It struck in bivouac after bivouac, and sometimes on the march itself, until those merchants and their retinue broke and scattered, like rotting sheep, towards the Ba- Kazim villages, remote on either hand, preferring the chance of ‘ the arrow that flieth ’ to pestilence smiting unseen. Though the combatant contingent grew morose, 1 The word is really Dthaikah, which means i narrow/ but as the strong palatal ‘ d * is locally pronounced 4 1/ phonetic spelling has been adhered to in this case. LOWER AULAKI 163 and watched each other with haunted eyes for the first fell signs of the Smiter, there was no panic among them. Islam may be materialistic, and observed with no more consistency than other creeds, while the acts and thoughts of its less civilized adherents often merit the common epithet ignorant fanaticism 5 ; but religion is a reality to them, not to be assumed with Levitical attire, but part of their daily life. Hence, in time of stress, it stands them in good stead, and, as officers of Mohamedan corps know well, in the day of red peril, is seldom invoked in vain. It has no less effect, though not so stirringly manifest, when the Slayer stalks abroad in black. We had only three days of it at its worst, while moving up Laikah’s stifling valley, and dropped it when once fairly on Munkaa plateau. It was a depressing experience, after finding all present and correct, to turn in and be roused in an hour or two’s time to help some poor tortured body in a losing fight against an inexorable and painful death. Sometimes, on the march, a man would collapse at noon, and be carried on a roughly improvised litter into bivouac at sunset, with every facial lineament altered beyond recognition, sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, and pinched-in nose—a death’s head under the skin. Chlorodyne had some effect—if the sufferer could retain it—and at least seemed to alleviate the agony. As we approached higher ground up the wadi, we began to get a fair proportion of recoveries. These we billeted with Bedouin camps or wayside villages, until they were sufficiently convalescent to proceed, and pushed on towards the plateau. The last victim, who was being carried on our only spare camel, collapsed and died as we debouched from the wadi on to Munkaa plateau, and of course we took the body on with us. I shall not forget the ‘ keening ’ 164 THE LAND OF UZ of the women-folk at his village as we passed and sent the corpse in. These lugubrious details are neither interesting nor instructive—but it may be noted that cholera is of rare occurrence, is usually confined to the littoral belt, and strikes along caravan routes through the maritime ranges, but never to any considerable elevation. (Munkaa plateau is only 2000 feet above sea-level.) It is said never to assume epidemic form in the hot weather when the Monsoon is blowing, and with tribesmen at any rate, I have found the official preparation of camphorodyne more efficacious and likely to be retained in adequate doses than chlorodyne. They will not take alcohol or opium in any recognisable form as a rule. Tribesmen make good patients, but want watching when convalescent and won t report themselves sick. They are willing and sympathetic when interested in a patient, but have no notion of nursing. Let us return to Ahwar on the occasion of my first journey through that capital, and make a more auspicious start. The Ba-Kazim 1 with its numerous sub-divisions com¬ poses the entire tribal population of Lower Aulaki. They mustered—when I last knew the confederation—about five thousand fighting men, not more, for Lower Aulaki is very thinly populated, but they are a tough lot. I will just mention a few of the bigger sub-divisions, with their range, mode of life, and approximate fighting-strength, refraining from any infliction of details of the countless clans, as too tedious, for few sub-divisions have less than eight, many have a dozen or so, and I know my list is not complete. Bear in mind that these sub-divisions or tribal 1 Kdzim = the snapping bite of wolf or jackal. LOWER AULAKI 165 sections (fakhaid) are always bickering among themselves, and trekking up and down their forbidding ranges of harsh-featured hills with flocks and herds (they are more pastoral than agricultural) and you will understand that, their hands being fashioned for war and their fingers to fight, the periodic organized raids beyond their borders > give their neighbours on either side a lively time. They have the Fadli and Dathinah on their western frontier—I have already hinted at the impression they have made on both. The Sultanate of Abd al Wahid im¬ pinges on their eastern border, its clans are also a turbulent lot, but lack the resolute grit and hardihood of the ‘ people who snap like a wolf. 5 Only to the north does Greek meet Greek, on the rare occasions when Upper and Lower Aulaki come to blows about something, along the main watershed. They usually get on well with their northern neighbours, and hold to a mutual defensive alliance, respect¬ ing the Sultan of Nisab far more than their lord of Ahwar. When real friction occurs, it must engender some invigorating episodes. By far the largest sub-division of the Ba-Kazim confederation is the Ahl 1 Ahtalah, mustering some 900 fighting-men ranging along wadi Gahr, and Laikah’s lower reaches, where they are nomadic and pastoral. They have an agricultural settlement in Ahwar valley. Another semi-nomadic sub-division with a still smaller proportion of its population engaged in agriculture is the Ahl Lahak (500) between Ahtalah and the border of Ard 2 Abd ul Wahid, reaching southwards to the inland slopes of the maritime range. North of Ahtalah, along the southern face of the main ridge that marks the Upper Aulaki border, range the 1 Ahl = people. 2 Ard = land or country. THE LAND OF UZ 1 66 Mansuri 1 (450) nomadic and pastoral. There are a few ‘ husun 5 or stone towers among the hills towards the fron¬ tier. Between Lahak and Mansur come Ahl Karlah (400) who are entirely settled and devoted to agriculture, as is also the senior sub-division of Ahl Shamma (300) situated on the Munkaa plateau round the villages of Kubth, Mehfid and G'ldhabah, which are inhabited by families of the ruling clan—(the Ahl Ali). G'ldhabah itself is the centre of such paramount influence as Ba-Kazim permits, being the home of two brother-chiefs, Fadl and Ali-Mehsin. Fadl was a happy-go-lucky opportunist, always excited about something, but without an ounce of real vice. Ali, the younger brother, was a self-contained schemer, lord of ambitious plans, and weaver of far-reaching threads of strategy and guile. He seldom acted or spoke without ulterior motive, or owned a disinterested friendship, while his dealings with others may be described as intricate. He had been offered the head-akilship of the confederation, and refused it on the plea of expense involved. The two brothers met me at Ahwar, and their escort held good to the Upper Aulaki border. The northern route from Ahwar over the Khalif pass, traverses a broad plain before entering Laikah gorge. This is the plain of Rahab, and is worthy of comment as being thickly strewn with small flat slabs of limestone, among which a few ammonite fossils will be found. Just before entering this plain, there is a sheltered spot for a bivouac under some low red sandstone bluff's 2 on which are a few rudely-scrawled Hamyaritic inscriptions—probably the work of ancient shepherds. They are of interest, but 1 No connection with the Abdali clan of that name—down on the littoral belt. 2 In wadi Akhdar. LOWER AULAKI 167 too indistinct to reproduce, even by photograph, and are simply a few disconnected characters without rhyme or reason. There are similar instances here and there towards the ‘Empty Quarter 5 ; the local Arabs call them ‘ katb er-raiyan’ (shepherd’s script). A short distance up from the entrance of the gorge, just beyond a disused Bedouin cemetery, is a pool of brackish water and a few surface runnels through soil much impregnated by nitre; but the first passable water occurs at Gol al Husan (the Stallion’s plain) where the wadi takes a sharp horse-shoe curve round an open amphitheatre between low foot-hills, where good grazing may be had. This is a regular camping-ground, and here we bivouacked for the night. It was at this spot that I first came in contact with the convivial habits of the Ba-Kazim tribesmen. Friendly Bedouins came into bivouac to pay their respects to the two chiefs. They all brought goat-skins full of what they called ‘ nabidh ’ (wine), and most of us partook—the local escort freely. As there was yet half an hour or so before sunset, I strolled off with some of the Bedouins to see the process of ‘ tapping ’ the ‘ neshr ’ (a species of palmetto which supplies the beverage). A fire is first lit among the fan-like fronds, and when these have been burnt off level with the ground, the sap is naturally driven back into the thick rhizome-like roots, which are exposed by digging at several points. Then a neat incision is made through the outer surface, in the form of a small isosceles triangle, apex upwards, and about two inches in length. This is curled downwards and outwards like the lip of a jug, and along the channel so formed, flows the sap into a little conical cup made from a whorl of palmetto frond twisted into a spiral. This is collected twice in twenty-four hours ; the night’s accumulation is THE LAND OF UZ 168 said to be the better quality of the two. When still fresh and unfermented, it is a pleasant enough drink, reminding one of coco-nut milk with a dash of lemon in it, and is mildly alcoholic, and rather exhilarating ; but if left to stand for a day or so, it ferments powerfully, and becomes potent enough to lift the turban off your head. It is then by no means a beverage to be taken with impunity, and I heard a yarn in bivouac that night, relating how it once reacted on Sheikh Fadl’s natural impetuosity in a rather startling manner. He was in command of a local escort for which certain merchants had applied, en route from Ahwar to Haban. They bivouacked out on Gol al Husan which is thinly bushed. It was the evening that closes Ramadthan (Eed es-Saghir—the Little Feast) and several pastoral chiefs dropped in at sunset, each carrying a skin or gourd of prime old ‘ nabidh. 5 It was, in fact, a sort of ‘ first-footing, 5 and they seem to have partaken pretty freely. Poor Fadl was particularly ‘ overcome,’ and took to the bush with his matchlock, thence main¬ taining a desultory fire on the party in bivouac, under the impression that they were a marauding band! The merchants dived for cover in the wadi, and the tribesmen, scattering right and left, swept the plain, in order to round him up before he did any mischief. He dodged from tree to tree, reloading whenever opportunity occurred, and would probably have inflicted casualties but for his condition and the uncertain light. At length he fell head over heels into a pool, which effectually damped his ardour and the priming of his matchlock ; whereon they rushed him, and tied him to a mimosa to cool off. Sheikh Fadl won my esteem by laughing good-naturedly at the episode when I offered congratulation on the fact that he was not armed with a rifle instead of a matchlock, LOWER AULAKI 169 or he might have bagged more than he could carry home. In this connection, it may be mentioned that the relations between escort and convoy are very strictly laid down in South Arabia. The convoy must comply with all orders relating to tactics and strategy, that is, they must halt where directed when a fight is in prospect, and advance when told, and not before. The Siyarah, or local escort, may choose any alternative route under stress of circumstances, and may insist on the convoy taking refuge at any village or post for a reasonable length of time. They expect rations of flour and coffee from the leader of the caravan, and an occasional ration of meat if obtainable. They do their own cooking. They are responsible for the safety of the lives and property in their charge, by day and night, but the caravan-leader—if a combatant—should see that a proper guard is kept. As he will be usually attended by a personal escort, these asakir should co-operate with the Siyarah for the safety of the expedition. The members of the escort should be, and usually are, prepared to lay down their lives for their trust, which involves their tribal honour. This district holds very little game owing to the frequency of inter-tribal strife, and the scanty water- supply and vegetation ; but further on, at Netakh springs, there is a reach of rushes and damp ground which usually holds a few snipe and an occasional mallard. We were short of meat, and when an old drake rose at my feet, I gave him little law, 5 but cut him down with two hasty shots from my .410 Collector. 5 There was a regular scramble to retrieve the bird, which was held up in triumph with its throat cut, and webbed feet slit. “Lawful food, please Allah ! ” No, the Ba-Kazim are far from orthodox. THE LAND OF UZ 170 At Gidhabah we enjoyed the hospitality of the Mehsins for a few days while arranging for an Upper Aulaki escort to pick us up on the frontier. One morning the younger Mehsin showed me round the little fortified hamlet of Gidhabah which had evidently been through stirring times, for of the three towers which formed its salient feature at the angles of an equilateral triangle, one was a heap of ruins, and the other two were pitted with bullet-holes along the mud surface of their confronting flanks. The IVlehsin tower alone was tenanted —the other was so battered as to be scarcely habitable. Sheikh Ali’s arbitrary manner was disliked by his relatives, and Mehsin 5 s rise to power was not regarded favourably by the other influential families of the clan at Kubth, Mehfid and Gidhabah. This latter village had maintained a spirited three-cornered argument for some weeks on the subject, which was closed in rather a startling manner by mining operations evolved in Ali Mehsin’s ingenious brain. Bickering was still in progress as opportunities occurred. ‘ ‘ Come up on the top of our tower and have a look round, 55 said the younger chief, reaching down his rifle and bandoleer from the wall of the guest-chamber as we re¬ entered our quarters. “ Better take your carbine with you —they’re annoyed with us at Kubth and Mehfid, which are within rifle-shot. 55 On our way up the spiral staircase, Sheikh Ali pushed open a door here and there as we passed, and pointed out that the loopholes in each room, as in the guest-chamber, had been built in to the smallest practicable aperture. “ During the worst of the trouble, 55 he observed, “it was not safe to have a light anywhere except up on the top in the women’s quarters and kitchen, where the loopholes are more than man-height from the floor. Here of course they’re all on a level with a man’s LOWER AULAKI 171 shoulder, and a brother-in-law of mine who was staying here to help us through, got shot in the neck while at supper. No—he’s going on all right—but he’s still very vexed about it. They oughtn’t to interfere with a man at his meals or prayers.” Emerging on to a square open ‘ keep,’ surrounded by a breast-high battlement with the usual pinnacle at each corner, we had a fine view of the plateau and the terraces of the main range to the north. “Don’t show yourself too obviously,” cautioned my host, lounging in one of the angles sheltered by its pinnacle. ‘ ‘ But surely they wouldn’t shoot at a guest,” I expostulated. “I wouldn’t trust them—but if you’d like to test it, just lean over the parapet facing Mehfid—you’ve got a lowland turban that they ought to spot a mile off.” Ali’s sardonic chuckle annoyed me, and, folding my arms on the parapet with my carbine well out of sight, I gazed fixedly at the nearest towers. Dark turbaned heads popped up here and there along the battlements of Mehfid. “They ought to have the range by now,” murmured Ali mischievously, but there was never the glint of a levelled barrel. My down-country turban of red and gold proclaimed me a stranger and a guest. My unscrupulous host judged others by his own conduct—I told him so. “They know you’ve a heavy escort here,” was his cynical rejoinder—then, turning to the opposite parapet, he uttered a fierce imprecation as I joined him and saw a man lopping the young shoots off the lowest bough of a tall pollarded ‘elb’ some 400 yards away. Beneath him, as he struggled with the bough, were a few hungry goats, busy with the ‘ liggin ’ (‘ top and lop ’) which he threw down to them. “Allah burn his father!” snarled the infuriated chief, 172 THE LAND OF UZ behind me. “How often have I told that shepherd to give the tree a chance—here’s news and information for him.” Bang! ! ! went a rifle at my elbow, and the man fell heavily among his little flock which scattered right and left. “Battal!” was my indignant comment. “A shabby trick, O chief.” “ He’s all right,” replied young Mehsin sullenly, as the terrified ‘herd’ sprang to his feet and scudded across the plain, while the goats tip-toed cautiously back to the liggin. “ Then it’s a very poor shot,” I added with asperity. He was assuring me of his lack of deadly intent, when dust flicked with a whirr from the base of one of the pinnacles, and a few shots thudded faintly forth from Mehfid. My host dragged me into the shelter of the stair-arch as hurried feet ascending heralded the approach of the hastily-armed escort. “It’s only our cousins at Mehfid,” observed Ali in explanation, whereat we all laughed, and went below to see if there was any coffee available. After breakfast, Sheikh Ali showed me with professional pride along the mine-gallery, which started in his basement and led towards the damaged tower ; the other shaft had caved in beneath the ruins. We crept, by the light of one of my composite candles, some sixty feet through choking dust to a solid wall of mud-cemented stone. ‘ ‘ This is as far as we got,” whispered Ali. “When they heard us pecking at their foundations, they sent across to make terms. We’d already tried a petard at the foot of their tower, and they’d seen the other tower go the week before, and felt uneasy. You can’t imagine the amount of powder it took, I haven’t paid for all of it yet. Everything’s dear up here. Now, if you could only let me have some of that LOWER AULAKI 173 white stuff that your escort tell me you use for shattering rocks-.” I cut him short with a timely fit of coughing —for he referred to a few ‘ primers 5 of gun-cotton I had with me for geological purposes, but not for use in family broils. ‘ ‘ Let’s get out of this dust,” I remarked. ‘ ‘ You’ve done the job quite well enough, as it is, O chief,—keep to stuff that you understand.” A good general view of the plateau may be got from Heyd Halm, a bold sandstone bluff some 700 feet above the village to the eastwards. It was on Munkaa that I first saw myrrh growing in any quantity. They are weird dwarf trees averaging some ten feet in height, and on that stony and somewhat sterile plateau, convey the impression of a Beardsley landscape. Trunk, branches and twigs, all zigzag at abrupt angles, without a vestige of curved outline, which is rendered all the more conspicuous by the small sparse foliage. Tapping, and the collection of the exuding gum was solely in the hands of two Aden Somalis who had found their way up there with a returning caravan, and were under the protection of local chiefs. We did not stay many days at Gidhabah. I wanted to do some survey work up at Yeshbum, and also collect some Natural History specimens before Ramadthan set in. Moreover the Munkaa district seemed disturbed, and Sheikh Ali was just the sort of man who attracts any trouble that is going, and I was not anxious for that. Some of my acts have occasionally been termed high¬ handed in certain quarters, but Mehsin’s methods were really so, and far too drastic for a peaceful traveller. I think he too thought that change of air might benefit him, for when young Bu Bekr bin Farid— L a cadet of Maan’s ruling house—came down to escort me across the main range to Yeshbum, Ali Mehsin decided to accompany us, l 7 4 THE LAND OF UZ and stay with the Farids until matters had simmered down a bit on his native plateau. The road from Munkaa to Yeshbum valley runs N.N.W. off the plateau into wadi Rafal, and follows its course up an ever-deepening ravine among the southern foot-hills of the main watershed. At 2200 feet it passes the Ba-Kazim frontier village of al Ark, and a short distance above this post a large red boulder of feldspar marks the boundary between Upper and Lower Aulaki. It stands on the left edge of the wadi and is known by the significant title of Hagar Erm—‘ the stone of hostile fired Here a strong contingent, from the upper heights, was drawn up to pay its respects to Bu Bekr, and take us on through the truculent mountaineer clans of the main range. The meeting between the two local escorts was characteristic. “Ha! you wine-bibbers—min maakum— whom have you got with you ? 55 shouted the children of Maan. “Abdullah Mansur the Dervish (wanderer) and his friends. Hail, shepherds ! we drink blood too when Allah wills. To our next merry meeting. 55 At this point Bu Bekr and Ali Mehsin hastily intervened, and had it not been for their united influence and the conciliatory attitude of my bodyguard, who were recruited from both confederations, Hagar Erm might have main¬ tained its reputation. I parted from the Ba-Kazim tribal escort with regret and mutual good wishes. Their manners are as rugged as their hills, but they are a likeable set—impulsive and thorough to friend or foe. Their dissolute ways are grossly exaggerated by their down-country neighbours, but the twin-confederation regards them with the respect inspired among brave men by strenuous incidents of LOWER AULAKI 175 mutual support and strife. Even the ascetic aristocrats of the Great Desert smile leniently at their mad exploits, which would be sternly repressed in that grim region, but, viewed in perspective, are hardly noticed through the lurid glass of gallant deeds. They take military service with enthusiasm wherever they can find a ruler who will pay them and show sport; but, as a littoral Sultan once remarked to me, it is not well to let a strong force of these fire-brands, after service rendered, enter a peaceful town, for if their previous operations have not come up to tribal standard, they may run amok in the place to relieve their feelings, and if the fighting has been satisfactory, they probably will, to mark the occasion. CHAPTER IV UPPER AULAKI. THE HOUSE OF MAAN. YESHBUM VALLEY. SHEPHERDS’ LORE Above Hagar Efm, across the southern border of Upper Aulaki, the route passes two towers of well-constructed masonry—Husn Keneb and Husn el Golb—frontier forts of that confederation. Above the latter post, wadis Edth and Ernimah join to form the Rafal gorge, and the road lies up the latter ravine with the beetling heights of Edth on the left. A steep pull, up past the towering peak of Ras Minarah brings us to the southern crest of Bikar and over the Thebt pass (5000 feet). Thence abruptly down into the rocky defile of wadi Thebt, and to its junction with the broad level bed of the Yeshbum, just below the market town of that name—the nucleus of an extensive valley- settlement. Yeshbum Sok is situated on a knoll on the right bank of the wadi, which, above and below the town, sweeps boldly in opposite curves forming a huge letter S. The Yeshbum traders were a trifle nervous of our formidable array as it swept up the wadi with stentorian chant, but the sight of Bu Bekr reassured them, and, opening their gates, they entreated us hospitably. Had this been a tribal fortress instead of a walled mercantile settlement it would have fired on us until explanations and apologies were UPPER AULAKI 1 77 forthcoming, but no force would be foolish enough to approach a combatant ‘ hold 5 in such a manner unless they were simply looking for trouble. The way young Bu Bekr ordered those portly and prominent merchants about was extraordinary to a mild-mannered traveller, and I ventured to expostulate with him privately on the subject. “It is their due,” he replied with a sunny smile. ‘ ‘ Of your favour, regard the men of this household—they make, between them, a donkey-load of dollars out of this valley every month and yet sometimes are parsimonious enough to attempt the southern routes through our out¬ lying sections without adequate local escort. They get into trouble, and we have to see them through, to maintain our prestige. Occasionally they try the same ‘basr 51 in the territory you have just left.” “ Seldom,” interpolated Mehsin grimly. ‘ ‘ And that leads to strife and bloodshed between brothers.” They both laughed at some joint reminiscence. ‘ ‘ Besides,” continued the hope of the house of Maan, ‘ ‘ not far from here, further down the wadi, is the commercial capital of our neighbour Abd ul Wahid. There the merchants have been pampered, for their liege- lord seldom leaves his palace down at Izzan to come and look them up, because of those hill-tribes round Haban— the Lokamash and Ahl Aswad. Yes, those were the Lokamash who fired a shot or two in our direction from the hills on our right as we were coming up Bikar—their border reaches this way, towards Thebt pass. They meant no harm, in fact they are friends with Maan now, but they still hate their own Sultan, and as for Haban! Why, mothers frighten their merchant-brats to sleep, by telling them that the Lokamash eat babies. 1 Foresight or scheme—used here sarcastically. 178 THE LAND OF UZ ‘ ‘ But they don’t, 55 I laughed. “ Of course not—they’re Moslems, if they are a little uncivilized. Still they do harry travelling traders a little. Don’t mention children, though, if you visit east of Thebt—the yarn has spread—Allah knows how—and they’re very sore about it.” At this juncture, supper was brought in by the mer¬ chants’ male servants, and, dividing into messes according to rank and tribe, we sat on our heels round broad circular mats of woven palmetto piled up with millet-meal, mountain-mutton and heaps of thick unleavened cakes of barley. “They ought to have brought on those sheep whole; they’ve no style,” whispered Bu Bekr, who shared a mat with Ali Mehsin, myself, and the chief of my tribal asakir. “At least we’ve no carving to do,” remarked Ali, glancing round to see if his retinue were satisfied and behaving nicely. “That would be your privilege,” he added—to my address. “ I know—and of all the greasy, onerous jobs—Bism Illah er-Rahman er-Rahim”—the prescribed formula was murmured down the messes, and we tackled the last serious business of the day. Our host attended my ‘ table ’ with ewer, towel and pitcher before the usual wooden jar of drinking water had performed its common round at the close of the meal. Non-combatants do not eat with tribesmen in Upper Aulaki, unless invited. After a few pigmy bowls of good coffee, and a pull at the hookah, I went upstairs out on to the roof of our quarters to have a look round, in the light of Shaaban’s 1 waxing moon. The tower was near the crest of Yeshbum knoll, and beneath it, the flat roofs of the Sok stood out in sharp relief against the deep shadows of the narrow alleys, like 1 The month preceding Ramadthin. It is perhaps unnecessary to state that Mohamedan months are lunar. UPPER AULAKI 179 plaques of burnished silver on a field of black velvet. The moon was in her second quarter, and, as she sailed up the sky, threw strong lights and shades athwart the spurs of the valley, turning the shingle along the lower reach of the wadi into frosted silver. My thoughts flitted out into the night down that gleaming track towards the Abd ul Wahid border and the involved intrigues of its political capital, Izzan, which, with the mercantile community of Haban, had wielded a marked and unfavourable influence on Arab politics for years; not by warlike prowess or sagacity, but through guile, and restless stratagem. Some years ago, Haban was governed by Sultan Mehsin whose cousin, an honest but weak ruler, was reigning Sultan of Izzan, and recognised as paramount in Ard Abd ul Wahid by our Government. Mehsin disgusted the Plaban merchants, who possess all the influence of wealth, by excessive taxation. They bribed the Lokamash and Ahl Aswad from their allegiance, to drive Mehsin out and he had to flee for his life to Izzan, for the rebel tribes were drastic in their methods, and placed a liberal interpretation on their instructions. In fact they burnt him out of his palace. He then offered a large subsidy and certain treaty rights to the Farid family if they would support him, and the might of Maan was launched down the valley on the bickering factions round Haban. The Ahl Aswad, who were settled along the wadi below Haban which here takes the name of that town, had to stand by their crops and husun (stone forts) and sustained a crushing defeat, while the Lokamash were chased back to their hills, and the militant merchants duly cowed. Farid’s contingent rebuilt Mehsin’s official residence at Haban, and left a body of picked men there to act as his x8o THE LAND OF UZ personal bodyguard, and he quickly resumed his former power, for, apart from his unscrupulous ambition, he was really a capable man, but hated straightforward methods. His was a curious type, and rare in these regions, for he had the nose and financial astuteness of the Oriental Hebrew without his business integrity. The lack of this last attribute brought trouble on him, for he tried to swindle Maan, who had waited patiently for the fulfilment of his promises, and after several excuses were told that he was not in a position to carry out his pledges. They at once withdrew their support, whereupon the Haban merchants bribed the Ahl Aswad and Lokamash again—this time to 4 depose 5 Mehsin, which they knew full well meant murder, with the ‘ tools 5 at their disposal. They also sent a heavy subsidy to the chiefs of Maan to secure their neutrality. This was promised, and a small detachment was despatched down the valley to Haban merely as a guarantee of good faith, for the rebel tribes were quite equal to the job. A certain section of the mercantile community had formed a definite plot with the rebels to procure the death of the unpopular potentate, for though the peaceful trader jumps nearly out of his skin at a rifle-shot, turns ashen at the whistle of a tribal yell, and sick at the sight of blood, he has an ingenious turn for second-hand traffic with the King of Terrors. Maan’s detachment kept the assassins off, in accordance with the strict tribal code, which ordains the protection of a quondam ally in such emergencies, unless blood intervenes between their alliance. They escorted the deposed ruler to Izzan, whence he proceeded to the coast, and thence by dhow to Aden, Jibouti and Hodeidah ; returning to Izzan via Sana, the capital of Yaman, and along the desert route from Behan, having offered his territory and the honour of his tribe to the UPPER AULAKI 1B1 French and Turkish authorities—needless to say, without success. When the Austrian expedition of savants went up to Izzan in the winter of ’98, I had the honour to command their tribal escort, and found Mehsin lording it at that town. He was afraid to show his nose out of it, owing to the hostility of the surrounding tribes. The exactions he levied on the expedition were disgraceful, and he and I had some strenuous discussions before transport could be bluffed out of him to enable the party to return to the coast. We found young Yeslum b’Erwes there, in irons. He was released by the generosity of the expeditionary leaders, having been heavily ‘ ironed 5 for two years ; a lad of sixteen, mark you—left as a hostage four years previously by his father, Sheikh Erwes bin Farid, then paramount chief of Maan, who pledged his tribe to sack and destroy Haban, and massacre the population, influenced by a heavy bribe from Mehsin. The Ahl Maan would have nothing to do with it, for Haban is one of their markets for Yeshbum produce, and, moreover, as a civilian centre, should be safe from the onslaught of any decent tribe. Of course tribal honour forbade the launching of a force to demand the surrender of Yeslum, who was a hostage in pawn for the money paid to his father. He was treated as described, to bring pressure to bear on the Farids in order that Mehsin’s wishes with regard to Haban might be carried out 1 . I was thinking over a few comments on this subject, when Bu Bekr bin Farid stepped out on to the roof. “ Sleep-time,” was his reminder, for it was now ten o’clock, 1 These remarks carry us back to the beginning of this century ; there have been changes since then, but this claims to be a character-sketch not a political report. 182 THE LAND OF UZ and we were starting early on the last stage to the Farid headquarters up the valley. “ Sheikh Bu Bekr, how far is Haban from here?” “A day’s journey for a kaflah (caravan)—within easy striking distance of a tribal force,” he added significantly. Then dropping his voice, “You love not Abd ul Wahid ?” “ He who was Sultan of Haban has not my esteem,” I replied guardedly. “ Yeslum told us all about it,” remarked Bu Bekr. The loquacity of youth. How is he, by the way ? ” “Well; praise be to Allah, but he still walks as if hobbled.” I cursed with subdued fervour towards the high-hung moon. “Listen,” continued the young chief,