A Dweller in Mesopotamia | Page 7

me into a happier and better world.
It would be quite like Brown to try and outdo the ordinarily accepted
symbolism of bearing a palm branch by attempting to wave a whole
palm tree, for this he seemed most undoubtedly to be doing, embracing
its trunk and swaying from side to side.
Subsequently, when things had sorted themselves out in my mind, and
when I found I was still in the land of the living I realized that he was
attempting to descend to earth. He was no less astonished than I.
After baling out the bellam and restoring order in the launch we found
that the casualties were nil, and proceeded to compare notes. Brown, it
appeared, had joined the Naval Division, been to Antwerp, Gallipoli
and France, and then been transferred for gunnery duties to the rivers of
Mesopotamia, and was now Lieut. R.N.V.R. in the Dalhousie stationed
at Basra. His occupation, when I came across him in this unexpected
way, was that of a leader of an expedition in a motor-boat with two R.N.
victims to find a new route to somewhere or other which could not
possibly be approached by water.
His enthusiasm had been so infectious that he had persuaded these
gallant and guileless officers to go with him, and was, at the moment of
my arrival, attempting to get a better geographical idea of the
surrounding country by climbing a palm tree and shouting directions to
the unfortunate occupants of the boat below, who were hopelessly stuck.
The sudden impact of the bellam, uncomfortable as it was for all
concerned, succeeded where they had failed, in getting them off the
mud.
[Illustration: THE HOUSE OF SINBAD THE SAILOR, BASRA]
An old-world touch is given to the waters of Basra by the high-sterned
dhows anchored in the river. Above Ashar Creek the scenery of the
banks with its wharves and big steamers is not particularly
characteristic of the East. Some of it might be by the Thames at Tilbury
Docks. But by Khora Creek and in the lower reaches of the river at
Basra, these old-world ships, with their quaint lines and steep, naked

masts, are more in keeping with our recollections of Sinbad the Sailor,
or perhaps of the days of the Merchant Venturers of our own
Elizabethan days.
It is to be supposed that the type of ship that has survived in the East to
the present day, like the mahaila and the goufa, is very much
unchanged like everything else, and tells us faithfully what sort of ships
there were in these waters some two thousand years ago or more. If this
surmise be a correct one, then we can trace the poop tower of the Great
Harry and the square windows and super-imposed galleries of the
Victory's stern to this common ancestor. I wish I had been able to get an
elevation of the details of one of these more ornate sterns. It would be
interesting to compare the work with that in the ships of the Middle
Ages and see if there is a definite development of type from East to
West via the Mediterranean.
We passed down Ashar Creek just after sunset, and the house of Sinbad,
with its picturesque surroundings, thoroughly looked the part. The
tower of the mosque stood out against a lemon-coloured sky, and
wandering wisps of purple smoke curled up from countless hearths.
Some giant mahailas, nearly obliterated the crooked little galleries that
overlook the creek, and a few boats glided silently down towards the
open river. Lights began to appear and stars studded the darkening sky.
Faint sounds of chanting music floated across the water and all the
world was still.
[Illustration: Dhows Basra.]

III
SINBAD THE SOLDIER
[Illustration: Monitor "Moth" at Basra.]
[Illustration]

SINBAD THE SOLDIER
After a few days among the waterways of Mesopotamia one can get
hardened against surprises. The most amazing and outrageous types of
craft soon meet the eye as commonplaces of river life. Things that
would make a Thames waterman sign the pledge proceed up and down
without arousing any comment. Noah's ark, with its full complement,
could ply for hire between Basra and Baghdad, and the lion's roaring
would be accepted as the necessary accompaniment of a somewhat old
type of machinery resuscitated for the war.
I have seen boats jostling each other cheek by jowl that might have
been taking part in a pageant entitled "Ships in All the Ages." There
were Thornycroft motor-boats and Sennacharib goufas, mahailas and
Thames steamboats, an oil-fuel gunboat and a stern paddler that could
have come out of a woodcut of the first steamboat on the Clyde--and all
these in the same reach. I travelled in this last extraordinary vessel for a
short time. She was in charge of a sergeant