Page 90 - The Tigris Expedition

Problems Begin

the ocean. To Adam’s tree, farewell! Farewell Ali, Mohammed,
Gatac, Kais, Shaker, Ramsey, and all our other Iraqi friends. You
arc disappearing now as a forest of waving arms, but we will often
recall you in the days to come, among the waves.
We were gaining speed. We were heading for the other bank of
the Tigris. Carlo and I turned the clumsy oars over and I yelled to
Detlef to lower the forward guara. The vessel obeyed beautifully
and we passed the green point of land where the twin rivers meet
and become the Shatt-al-Arab. Behind us lay the Garden of Eden
Rcsthouse with its cluster of palms and trees; to its right was the
Tigris and to the left the Euphrates opened into view with the Basra
road bridge that had prevented us from building the reed ship
among our friends in the marshes, since our mast would not have
passed beneath it.
‘Hurrah, we’re sailing!’ It was Norman’s voice, full of joy and
vitality for the first time since his violent fever. Nearly all the men
had barely recovered, but every one was dead set on getting away
and all eyes were bright with energy and excitement. The sail really
invited rejoicing as it drew its breath and pulled ahead of the wind.
For the first time we saw unfolded the tanned Egyptian canvas on
which our Iraqi art student Rashad had painted a huge reddish sun
rising behind a terracotta-coloured Mesopotamian pyramid.
The date-palms flanking the river must have signalled our
arrival, for people lined the banks shouting and waving, and as we
moved on more and more spectators emerged from huts and
villages of reed and mud-brick. Everywhere men and boys began to
run with us along the river banks as far as they could keep up with
our speed. But we sailed faster than they could move on the uneven
terrain, and passed with great speed through a changing landscape
of barren wasteland and palm plantations. Everywhere, however,
people seemed informed and some even shouted our names. There
were high spirits on board. We would pass the down-river cities
and industrial areas and reach the gulf in a few days. A motor-
driven balam with ten Arabs reputed to know the river came along
to pilot us through the hectic traffic and other modern obstacles in
the lower part of the river. They had just disappeared around a very
sharp right-hand bend when I noticed that our ship was out of
control.
Carlo was a mountain climber and like me had never sailed on a
river. Not familiar with local banks and shallows and with pilots
who ran around as they pleased, we chose to keep an equal distance
from both banks. But at this bend the river seemed to end straight
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