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234 BY DESERT WAYS TO BAGHDAD
the oars ; the last traces of the setting sun slowly dis
appeared, and gradually the stars reflected twinkling
points of silver in the black water, dancing brightly in
the moving current. A silence as of death reigned
over everything ; the blackness of death peered out of
the deep waters ; the slow but surely moving current
was drifting us on relentlessly towards an uncertainty
suggesting death. And with it there was a tremendous
sense of stillness and peace.
I was sitting very near the edge looking into the
dark waters. -. ,'
" I don't want to die yet," I said.
"You are such a time taking things in," said X,
" that you would not be aware that you were dead until
so long after the event that it would hardly matter to
you. You weren't afraid, were you ? "
" No," I answered. We were silent for a while,
then Hassan spoke.
"If you had crossed the chain," he said, "there
would have been no more Pashas for me to travel
with. Inside is the tomb of the last Imam of the race
of Ali, and no Christian may look upon it and live."
I looked again into the deep waters and began to take
it all in, what I had seen in the men's faces and how
they would have done it. Hassan put a rug over me ;
I had shivered. I wasn't cold. It was all over, we
were safe; but I was knowing what it was to be afraid.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE END OF THE RAFT
W E were now only sixty-five miles from Baghdad,
and with luck we should reach it next day.
We travelled on all night, and on waking up next
morning found ourselves floating past cultivated
banks and creaking waterwheels, and sighted in the
distance dark patches of palm-groves.
But, in spite of Ali's prayers to the " God of the
favouring breeze," our enemy the wind rose up
once more and compelled us to put to shore. From
this point it was only a few hours by land to Baghdad.
We could faintly see the town itself on the distant
horizon line to the east, separated from us by a
great expanse of sandy desert. We were told,
however, that the river wound in and out so much
that it was still a day's journey off by water.
We kicked our heels disconsolately on shore—a
sandy shore this time ; little sandy hillocks alternated
with patches of struggling tufts of grass. We sat
there all day. The sand blew into our faces, and
the river rolled on past us—and just behind me
a rat put its head occasionally out of a hole to see
if we were still there. Arten also at intervals put
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