Through the Desert. Henryk Sienkiewicz

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      “That’s right. It is coming from the west and south, but it does not seem to be as furious as the Khamsin.”^[4]

      “But only three years ago it buried a whole caravan in the vicinity of Abu Hammed, and did not uncover it until last winter. Ulla! It may blow with such force as to stop up the camels’ nostrils, and dry up the water in the leather bags.”

      “We must hasten on, and steer our course so that we will strike only the edge of it.”

      “We are running straight into it, and can not possibly avoid it.”

      “The sooner it comes, the sooner it will be over.”

      At the same time Idris whipped up his camel with the scourge, and the others followed his example. For a while nothing was heard but the cries of “Yalla! Yalla!” and the hollow sound of the thick whips, that resembled the loud clapping of hands. The western horizon, which had been almost white, had now become dark. The heat continued, and the sun blazed down on the heads of the riders. The hawks must have soared very high, for their shadows became smaller and smaller, and at last entirely disappeared.

      It now became oppressively sultry. The Arabs cried out to the camels until their throats were dry; then they became quiet, and a deathlike silence ensued, broken only by the groaning of the animals and the rustle of two small sand-foxes^[5] with enormous ears, which sped past the caravan, fleeing to the opposite side of the desert.

      The same Bedouin who had previously spoken to Idris said once more in a peculiarly strange tone of voice:

      “The wind will soon break loose and bury everything.”

      “All the more need of helping the little girl.”

      Idris whipped up the camel, and for a while they continued in silence.

      “Why don’t you speak?” asked Stasch.

      “Because I am wondering whether I had better tie you to the saddle or bind your hands behind your back.”

      “Have you gone crazy?”

      “No. But I can guess what you want to do.”

      “The searchers will overtake us in any case, so I need not do anything.”

      “The desert is in God’s hands.”

      They again relapsed into silence. The coarse sand had ceased falling, but a fine red dust, somewhat resembling mildew, remained in the air, through which the sun shone like a sheet of copper. Distant objects could now be plainly seen. Before the caravan extended a plain, on the edge of which the Arab’s sharp eyes again perceived a cloud. It was higher than the previous ones and rose in columns that formed enormous funnels with wide-spreading tops. At this sight the hearts of the Arabs and Bedouins quaked with fear, for they recognized the sand-spout. Idris raised his hands, and lifting them to his ears, began to bow to the advancing whirlwind. His belief in his own God apparently did not prevent him fearing others, for Stasch distinctly heard him say:

      “Lord! We are your children, therefore do not devour us!” And the “Lord” rushed upon them, and hit the camels with such force that they almost fell to the ground. The animals huddled together in a compact mass, with their heads turned toward the center. Enormous quantities of sand began to fly. The caravan was enveloped in darkness that momentarily grew more intense, in which they saw black and indistinct objects—like enormous birds or camels—sweep rapidly past them, as if frightened by the hurricane. The Arabs were greatly alarmed, for they thought they saw the souls of the men and animals that had perished in the sand. In the midst of the tumult and howling of the hurricane they heard strange voices, sometimes weeping, sometimes laughing, sometimes cries for help. These sounds were only delusions. Danger a hundred times more terrible threatened the caravan. The Sudanese well knew that if one of the great sand-spouts, which continually form in the center of the hurricane, should drag them into its vortex, it would knock down the riders and disperse the camels, and, bursting upon them, would in the twinkling of an eyelash bury them under mountains of sand, there to remain until some similar storm should uncover their bones and scatter them over the desert.

      Stasch nearly lost his breath; the sand blinded him, and he became dazed and dizzy. Sometimes it seemed as though he heard Nell crying and calling, and so he thought of her alone. Knowing that the camels were standing closely together, and that Idris could not be paying any attention to him, he determined to steal over to the girl’s camel, not that he wished to escape, but only to help and encourage her. He had scarcely put out his hands to catch Nell’s saddle than Idris’ large arm held him back. The Sudanese picked him up like a feather, laid him down, and tried to bind him with a palm rope, and after he had tied his hands, placed him across the saddle. Stasch clenched his teeth and resisted as much as possible, but all in vain. As his throat was parched and his mouth full of sand, he could not convince Idris that he only wanted to assist the girl, and had no intention of trying to escape. But a little later, feeling that he was all but suffocated, he cried out in a strained voice:

      “Save the little Biut! Save the little Biut!”^[6]

      The Arabs preferred to think of saving their own lives. So terrible was the sand-storm that the Bedouins could neither sit on the camels, nor could the camels remain standing. Chamis and Gebhr sprang to earth to hold the curb-bits, which were fastened under the lower jaws of the animals. Idris pushed Stasch off the back of the saddle and endeavored to control his camel. The animals stood with their legs far apart so as to resist the raging storm, but strength failed them, and the caravan was blown about in the sand, which pricked like pins, and torn to pieces as though with lashes from sand-thongs. Slowly at first, then faster, they began to twist and stagger as the hurricane advanced. From time to time the sand whirls dug grave-like hollows beneath their feet, or the sand and gravel, rebounding from the flanks of the animals, instantly formed hillocks, which reached up higher than their knees. In this manner hour after hour passed, the situation becoming more and more alarming. Idris at last realized that the only means of deliverance lay in remounting the camels and racing with the storm. But that meant returning in the direction of Fayoum, where Egyptian courts and the gallows awaited them.

      “Ha! There is nothing else to be done,” thought Idris. “The hurricane has delayed our pursuers also, and as soon as it ceases we will gallop once more toward the south.”

      So he cried out for them to remount. But just then something happened that completely changed the situation. The dark sand-clouds, now almost jet black, were suddenly permeated with bluish light. Then the darkness grew still more intense, and now arose in the higher regions of the air the slumbering thunder. Awakened by the whirlwind, it began to roll loudly, threateningly, and angrily between the Arabian and Libyan deserts. It seemed as if mountains were falling from the sky. The deafening noise increased; it made the earth tremble, and began to encircle the entire horizon.^[7] From time to time the sound crashed with such terrible force that it seemed as though the firmament was broken and falling to earth. Sometimes it was like a hollow, distant rumbling; then again it broke forth still louder, flashed its blinding lightning, threw thunderbolts, rose and fell and crashed again. This continued a long while.

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