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chased 186food of a s●hip’s boy and settle

d down to await the good w▓ill of the port doctors.As ●I lined up with the rest, to be thumped and pr●odded by order of His Majesty, the Khediv▓e, a new plan flashed through my mind.Th▓e ship was to continue to Al▓exandria.That port, certainly●, gave far easier access to the rea●l Egypt than Port Sad, and it was an unexplor▓ed city.Instead of disembarking wi●th the ot

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n once more—and once ●more was repulsed by

a thick-witted sea▓man. I returned to the deck and s●at down on a hatch.To my dismay, the ▓native purser began to collect the ticket●s before the last tender was unlo▓aded.He approached me and held o●ut his hand. “Where can I see ●the captain” I demanded. “M〃埊abarafshee,” he answered, shaki●ng his head, “bilyeto!” (ticket)●. Certainly I must offer some excu▓se for being on board without a ticket.The ▓lean form of the purser bending over me called ▓up the memory of the Jaffa consul.I rummag●ed through my pockets, and, spre▓ading out his second note to the ship▓’s agent, laid it in the purser’s hand▓.The consul’s yellow stationery bore a ▓disconcerting contrast to the bundle● of dark-blue tickets.The of●ficer gave vent to his astonishment i▓n an avalanche of Arabic. “M’abara●fshe

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to launch a second avalanche, hesitated, ●s

cratched his head, and, with a shr▓ug of the shoulders, went on gathering “bily●etos” from the native passenge▓rs. Some time later he descended from the up▓per deck and, beckoning to me, led th●e way to the bridge.The steamer was pre▓paring to get under way.The capta●in, a burly Briton, stormed back ●and forth across the ship, striving to give orde▓rs to the crew in such Arabic as he could muster●, and bursting the bounds of that ●unnatural tongue with every four▓th word, to berate the blockheads in forcible● excerpts from the King’s—private—English▓.His eye fell upon me. “Here,” ▓he roared, profanely, ’tis true, but to the poi▓nt, “what the bloody —— is a▓ll this” and he waved the now ragged note▓ in my face. “Why, that’s a note from● the Amurican consil in Jaffa, sir, s▓ayin’ I want t’ ship for Egypt.” Th●e purple rage on the skipper’s face, ▓the result of his attempt to set fort▓h in Arabic thoughts only expressible in Engli▓sh, subsided somewhat at the sound ▓of