Page 101 - The Tigris Expedition

The Tigris Expedition
deeper in the water. Norman was convinced the chemicals in the
pollutants had penetrated and damaged the reeds. We hoisted the
I oars aboard and set sail as fast as we could. But it was lunchtime
before we had everything ready for departure. As we sailed on we
passed foam caps that sailed slower than ourselves, and all that day
and all the next we had them with us.
It was a great relief to have round steering-oar shafts that now
rotated against smooth buffalo leather. But the wind died down.
Completely. The river still ran. Slowly. A beautiful, undisturbed
landscape. Except for the white caps of foam. Date plantations.
Water buffaloes. Geese, ducks and kassab canes. Small villages on
the riverside with happy dancing children, some running with us,
others climbing date palms. Barking dogs. Women in colourful
dresses, but always covered by long black cloaks. Some with sheep,
some with bottle gourds and some with aluminium containers on
their heads. Pottery had gone out of use. We saw a couple of canoes
with fishermen. Nothing else. Peace. The red sun set behind palms.
\ The river stopped running. We anchored before it started flowing
the other way.
Next day we again reached modern civilisation, as if with the
wave of a magic wand. We passed Sindbad Island and had to take a
tow between the colossal pillars of the new bridge which already
spanned the other half of the river, beyond the island. I had been
down before we started building and spoken to the German
engineers who constructed this super-bridge with a frightening
speed. In another month they would have the whole bridge com­
pleted, and so low that no masted reed-ship could ever again sail
down to the sea. On the pillars of the bridge, and from now on,
I
through all the hectic ports of Basra harbour, enormous crowds
i awaited us. Police boats escorted us and the balam that towed us.
All the cargo ships blew their sirens and rang their bells. The Iraqi
navy vessels had their officers and crews lined up in salute on deck
and dipped their flags. Hooting and whistling were everywhere, so
Yuri grabbed our own bronze fog-horn, jumped on to the roof and
trumpeted right and left while the rest of us clung together to the
i wide mast ladder or waved and shouted from the steering bridge. I
had to yell myself when Carlo pointed out a Norwegian ship from
my own little home town of Larvik.
In the midst of the chaos our contact man from the bbc in
London, Peter Clark, dropped out of the sky and boarded us from a
motor vessel. He just had a bite to eat and returned to shore with
i Dimitri in a Russian motor launch.
i
i 86

■I