Page 190 - The Tigris Expedition

We Cain Control of Tigris

company at shouting distance. Its black captain, Said Abdulla,
looked more African than Arab, although he was from the
Sultanate of Oman. Three of his crew had abandoned the dhow at
the moment of departure; they must have had a hunch of what
awaited them. But four men remained on board, wanting to return
to Oman. One was an African Swahili, two were from North
Yemen, and one was a compatriot of the captain from Oman.
Rashad happily joined this mixed lot to serve as interpreter and
liaison between the two ships, roughly of the same size.
Said had a compass, but no map. He did not set course straight for
our destination, the Hormuz Strait. What he did might reflect an old
tradition, as he took a route apparently followed by all the dhows.
As soon as we had passed a low, white, sand island on our port side
and Bahrain with all its ships had sunk behind us, he set course for
the tip of the Qatar peninsula, another long but blunt dagger jutting
northwards into the gulf from the Arabian side. Wc had been slow
getting away from the asry harbour, and Rashad yelled that
Captain Said insisted we must hurry in order to pass Qatar before
night. Norman consulted the Persian Gulf sailing directions, and
we could well understand Said’s desire to get away. Wc read: ‘All
the villages on the north-western coast of A1 Qatar were in 1951
deserted and in ruins, having been sacked in recent years; a few
fishermen sometimes camp temporarily among the ruins.’
We reached this north-western coast of A1 Qatar just as the sun
set and night fell upon us. It did not seem deserted. We saw several
lights along the shore on our starboard side and our experience of
Failaka was fresh in mind. Captain Said made a speed of four knots,
but the best we could do on our own on an eastward course with a
north wind was two knots, so he insisted on towing us. But luckily
his towline broke and when he came back to tie us up again I
refused. The danger of being towed by this reckless captain was
greater to us than any fear of Qatar, which was very far away. Said
was furious, and Rashad had the greatest difficulty in conveying the
bad-tempered messages back and forth. In the midst of it all a huge
sea-bird with a long beak, hooked at the tip, landed amongst us and
created havoc until it calmed down in Carlo’s arms; later it took off
into the night and landed on the sea. Shortly afterwards a big falcon
sailed into the light of our kerosene lamp astern and kept on sailing
so low over the heads of the helmsmen that we could see the nostrils
in the hooked beak. It, too, slid away. The moon was full, the sky
was clear; it was great to be sailing on our own. But the north wind
was biting cold and it felt fine to creep under a blanket when the

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