A Dweller in Mesopotamia | Page 2

94
DAWN AT AMARA 100
A BACKWATER IN EDEN 102
PUFFING BILLY ON THE TIGRIS 106
SUNSET ON THE TIGRIS 112
SHEIK SAAD AND THE PERSIAN MOUNTAINS 114
HIT, KNOWN TO THE ARABS AS THE MOUTH OF HELL 116
A BRITISH CRUISER IN THE PERSIAN GULF 122

LIST OF LINE SKETCHES
ABADAN 2
"SERRIED RANKS OF TALL IRON FUNNELS" 6
SHIP LOADING WITH OIL 7
"A MYSTERIOUS-LOOKING FURNACE TOWER" 9
"CRUDE STEAM ENGINES EVOLVED BY TITANS WHEN THE WORLD WAS YOUNG" 11
IN ASHAR CREEK 16
SUNSET, OLD BASRA 21
DHOWS, BASRA 26
MONITOR "MOTH" AT BASRA 28
THE SIRENS OF THE NARROWS 33
NOAH'S ARK, 1919 36
UPWARD BOUND ON THE TIGRIS 38
HILLAH 47
CTESIPHON 50
ANCIENT IRRIGATION CHANNEL NEAR HILLAH 55
TOWER OF BABEL. FIG. 1 57
THE TOWER OF BABEL 59
TOWER OF BABEL. FIG. 2 60
TOWER OF BABEL. FIG. 3 61
GOUFAS ON THE TIGRIS 68
"A MAGIC VIGNETTE OF PALMS, EASTERN BUILDINGS, AND A LARGE SOUTH-WESTERN RAILWAY ENGINE" 77
"SUDDENLY WE CAME UPON A SCENE OF STRANGE BEAUTY AND DRAMATIC EFFECT" 79
"BY GARDEN PORCHES ON THE BRIM, THE COSTLY DOORS FLUNG OPEN WIDE" 82
"ALL ROUND THE FRAGRANT MARGE, FROM FLUTED VASE AND BRAZEN URN, IN ORDER, EASTERN FLOWERS LARGE." 83
"BY BAGHDAD'S SHRINES OF FRETTED GOLD, HIGH-WALLED GARDENS, GREEN AND OLD." 85
SHOWING THE SIMPLICITY OF MESOPOTAMIAN DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE. TIGRIS 88
BAGHDAD 90
"PUFFING BILLY" IN BAGHDAD 91
A BIT OF OLD BAGHDAD 93
"BLOSSOMS AND FRUIT AT ONCE OF GOLDEN HUE APPEARED, WITH GAY ENAMELLED COLOURS MIXED." 98
"HIGH, EMINENT, BLOOMING AMBROSIAL FRUIT OF VEGETABLE GOLD." 105
THE WALLS OF HIT 110
HIT 120
SAMARA 121

I
THE FIERY FURNACE
[Illustration: Abadan.]
[Illustration]

THE FIERY FURNACE
There is an unenviable competition between places situated in the region of Mesopotamia and the Persian Gulf as to which can be the hottest. Abadan, the ever-growing oil port, which is in Persia and on the starboard hand as you go up the Shatt-el-Arab, if not actually the winner according to statistics, comes out top in popular estimation. Its proximity to the scorching desert, its choking dustiness and its depressing isolation, are characteristics which it shares with countless other places among these mud plains. But it can outdo them all with its bleached and slime-stained ground in which nothing can grow, its roaring furnaces and its all-pervading smell of hot oil.
Across the broad waters of the Shatt-el-Arab there stretches a lonely strip of country bounded by a wall of palm-tops. Like all the land here it is cultivated as long as it borders the river and thickly planted with date groves. Then lies a nondescript belt that just divides the desert from the sown, and then, a mile or so inland, scorched and unprofitable wilderness.
Into this monotonous spiked sky-line the sun was wont to cut his fiery way without much variety of effect every evening, and night rushed down, bringing respite from this heat; for it is happily one of the compensations of life in these parts that the nights are cool, however hot the day.
About 150 miles from this busy spot lie the oilfields of the Anglo-Persian Oil Company. Two adventurous iron pipes start courageously with crude oil and conduct it by or through or over every obstacle from these wells to Abadan. In the early days of the war great and successful efforts were made to protect this line of supply, which was of vital importance to the British Navy. The Turks lost Fao, the fort that commanded the entrance to the Shatt-el-Arab, within a few days of the opening of hostilities. They had imagined it such a formidable obstacle to our approach that they were thrown suddenly on their beam ends when we took it. Consequently they could not keep us out of Abadan, but fell back on Beit Naama vainly attempting to block the river by sinking ships. One of the hulks, however, swung round and left a channel through which a passage was simple. I once sketched some of these old ships as they lay throughout the period of hostilities. Since then they have been partially blown up. A divers' boat was at work when I made my drawing and the first charge was fired about three minutes after I had finished, removing the funnel and one mast of the principal derelict.
[Illustration: ABADAN, PERSIA, THE OIL QUAYS]
Well, to begin my story.
It was evening. The sun was setting in the orthodox manner described above. Abadan was looking very much as usual. The smoke was smoking, the pumps were pumping, the works were working, and all the oilers along the quay, like all well-behaved oilers, were oiling.
As if to protest against the frankly commercial atmosphere of everything and everybody at Abadan, a dhow that might have belonged to Sinbad the Sailor himself was making slow headway before the failing breeze under a huge spread of bellying canvas--an apparition from another age, relieved boldly against the dark hull of a tank steamer.
The flood tide had spent itself and the river seemed unusually still as twilight deepened and the many lights