Crocodile on the Sandbank - Elizabeth Peters [32]
“Ah, you underestimate me, dear lady! Tomorrow, when I accompany you to your boat, I will hire one for myself. Nor is it too late, tonight, to acquire a dragoman. The lobby still teems with the wretched fellows, and I am told they are essential to travelers. Perhaps you could recommend a good one.”
“No,” I said.
“Michael might know of someone,” Evelyn said, with a smiling glance at me.
“He has gone home,” I said.
“He is sure to be somewhere about,” Evelyn said gently. “He never leaves until we have retired. Indeed, I think the fellow sleeps here, he’s so devoted to you since you saved the life of his child. He would do anything for you.”
“You are the one he is devoted to,” I said. “I cannot imagine where you get these notions, Evelyn.”
Michael had taken quite a fancy to Evelyn and was, as she had thought, still in the hotel. We found him and, taking our leave of his lordship, left the two of them in conversation.
I was really vexed with Evelyn for helping her cousin to further his plans; if I had not known her so well, I would have imagined she wanted to encourage him. But that was Evelyn’s weakness. She was too kind, and too truthful. Both, I have found, are inconvenient character traits.
4
I HAD thought to avoid Mr. Lucas by making an outrageously early departure next morning. I underestimated him. The rosy streaks of dawn were scarcely brushing the sky when we descended into the lobby of the hotel, to find Lucas waiting, with an armful of flowers for Evelyn and a knowing smile for me. He insisted on accompanying us to Boulaq, and as the little boat carried us across to the waiting daha-beeyah he stood on the shore waving both arms like a semaphore and showing all his teeth in a smile.
With much bustle and a babble of cheerful voices the men took their places. The mooring ropes were loosed; the oarsmen pushed off from the bank; the great sail swelled as it took the wind; and we were off, with a six-gun salute from our crew, answered by other boats along the bank.
We sat on the high upper deck, with an awning to protect us from the sun. Rugs, lounge chairs, and tables had transformed this area into a comfortable drawing room, and the waiter, young Habib, at once appeared with mint tea and cakes. Evelyn lost her thoughtful look and sat up, pointing and exclaiming at the sights. The worst pessimist in the world must have responded to the happiness of such an excursion on such a day. The sun was well up, beaming down from a cloudless sky. The gentle breeze fanned our cheeks. The palaces and gardens on the riverbank glided by as smoothly as in a dream, and with every passing minute new beauties of scenery and architecture were displayed to our eager eyes. In the distance the shapes of the pyramids were etched against the sky; the air was so clear that they seemed like miniature monuments, only yards away.
We sat on the deck the whole of that day; the experience was so new and so enchanting it was impossible to tear ourselves away. At dinner time delectable smells wafted up from the kitchen near the prow. Evelyn ate with a better appetite than I had seen her display for days; and when we retired to the saloon as the evening fell, she performed Chopin beautifully on the pianoforte. I sat by the window watching the exquisite sunset and listening to the tender strains; it is a moment that will always remain in my memory.
We had many such moments as the days went on; but I must curtail my enthusiasm, for I could write another of those repetitious travel books about the trip—the eerie singing of the crewmen as we lay moored at night; the exchanges of salutes with the Cook’s steamers plying the river; the visits to the monuments of Dashoor (pyramids) and Abusir (more pyramids).
Most travelers hurry up the river as fast as possible, planning to stop at various historic sites on the return voyage. The voyage upstream is the difficult one, against the current, which, as the reader knows, flows from south to north; one is dependent upon the prevailing northerly wind, and, when this